Akas the Bloodless (Final Update 11th April 2006)

[Witcher Wolf]

Welcome to the world of Hestonia and eventually to the City of Wyrden. What's Hestonia? It's a world where the conventions of modern fantasy do exist, but there are enough twists and turns to make it as fresh as possible while keeping a fantastic feel.

There's magic, there's technology to an extent, putting the book firmly in the bracket of Dark Fantasy/Steampunk.

Akas the Bloodless follows the story of several characters, their lives and eventual struggle against the forces of darnkess - not because they have to save the world or they're told they need to save the world, but because if they don't do something they'll miss out on the chance and opportunity to better advance themselves, either from a political point of view or in the terms of raw power.

This book is copyrighted and all applicable laws apply, all events and people therein are a work of fiction and as such any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely cooincidental and should be considered as such.

I hope you enjoy this particular work

[Witcher Wolf]

Wyrden

“It is only by embracing the monster within you that you can truly let that creature out.” ~ Adam Wolfe

Prologue: The awakening of darkness

One hundred years ago when the world of Hestonia flourished under a different ruler and things were far simpler, there were very few hardships and people had a much easier time of things. It was a golden age of prosperity and commerce, where the far flung kingdoms of this spit of rock spinning out there in the void, traded knowledge and goods back and forth.

But all such ages come with a price attached and with a group that desires to work against the flow of the river, to paddle upstream and upset things for their own ends. A powerful cabal of dark magicians wove spells in the shadows and controlled the destiny of others. They hid themselves under the cities of men and the forests of beasts.

The power they sought proved to be elusive at best and when they came close to realising their goals they came undone, unravelling like so much snagged wool on an iron nail. This dark cabal sought to bargain with demons and old gods for their eternal souls, they offered up sacrifice of child and animal to appease wicked creatures that had slept for aeons.

They woke something terrible at the World’s End Mountains, something that had been sealed in a chamber and locked away behind wards that were laid by the wisest of the wise. There were seven that had breached Akas: The Bloodless One’s chambers in the lowest vault of the mountain range.

Six men and one woman drew upon the darkest powers known to the world, with an act of the flesh that would forever bind their souls to the servitude of that twisted master. But still the dark demon wanted more; he required a sacrifice of significant prestige and power. And so it came to pass that in the throne room of Akas, the leader of the cabal met his end at the hand of a woman who professed to love him.

His blood was the spark that ignited the inferno from which Akas’ new body was born, the monster shredded the sanity of all before him save the woman who was wise, and she ran from the chamber and fled into the cavernous tunnels beneath the mountain. It is said that what she encountered beneath the ground was enough to turn her dark hair as white as snow, her eyes as black as pitch.

With his new found sense of freedom the creature was able to ride forth from the prison and look upon the fertile land, happy people and mighty rulers. What Akas saw invoked a fury in him so great he smote the mountain in two and split the ground with his roar. The skies became as grey as an ash-storm and the heavens quaked under the demon’s wrath, he summoned to him others that shared a common goal.

They spread amongst the land and her people and slowly they blackened hearts and started wars, wars that claimed thousands of lives and ruined cities, towns, villages all across Hestonia. They were the beat of a jealous heart, the knife in a loyal companion’s back. The great age of the demon-kind had begun and with it sorrow strode alongside them with downcast eyes.

The rise of the demons came as a shock to the powers that be, the Old Gods who in their near infinite wisdom had failed to take into account the true avaricious nature of the people. They were left with a choice, sit back and let the world burn or take action. They chose to sit back and watch for the time being as corruption and decay swept over the planet, bringing strife and suffering hand in hand.

The once prosperous kingdoms fought against each other for the smallest strip of land, the brightest gemstone, the prettiest woman. Brother spilt the blood of sister and father turned against mother, the demon-kind revelled in this destruction and unrest, drawing power from it and taking comfort (what little comfort creatures like that can take) in the never-ending competition.

At the head of all battles rode the mighty Lord Rhage, the demon that warriors called during bloody confrontations in the old days, before the dark monsters were sealed from the light of the world. He cut a swathe of ruin through the kingdoms and toppled mighty empires to revel in their bloody crumbling stones.

The Lady Varsil whispered and crooned into the ears of men and women alike, bending them to her will. Making once faithful husbands stray to others and calling all harlots to spread her word, like a plague from city to city. Where Rhage devoured and destroyed all he came into contact with, Varsil corrupted and seduced even the greatest of heroes.

Akas was able to sow the seeds of doubt into the minds of his enemies; he would weaken the resolve of ancient kingdoms and bring with him a cloud of despair. He forged the twin blades of insanity and madness, weaving his dark magic over the strongest of his opposition.

Even the Great King Rhodenheim fell under the Lord of Madness’ wicked power and took his own life, on the eve of his greatest battle. This staggering blow to his men’s morale meant that his defenders were smashed and Melanchan, the capital city of Hestonia was taken from its people and thrown into the hands of a usurper King, Olden Rogart.

But even when men and women were safe in their beds, curled like wolves in the night they had little to comfort them. For the Dreamstalker, the Lady Nightshade curled through their fitful sleep like a cobra and poisoned even the happiest of slumbers. Her tapestry of nightmares wove terrible images in the minds of all, children cried out in their dreams and some never woke.

These were the dark days that lasted for one hundred years and the Old Gods did nothing to stop them, like frightened animals they cowered before the might of the demon hordes and their armies. With a whisper in the right ear Rhage could ignite a kingdom to war and lead them in battle, a master puppeteer of the anger of men.

The people of Hestonia were their pawns and played host to endless chess games as the bored creatures pitted army against army, to simply slake their lust for battle or alleviate a tiresome existence and provide some limited entertainment.

In the furrowed shadows of such darkness the seed of light was almost crushed, but some resisted the dark hordes and fought back to the best of their ability. There was no great alliance of kingdoms to battle this fierce fury, but a few ragtag souls that had the courage to stand against the greatest odds they had ever known.

They were neither the heroes of the old age nor the favourite of bard and minstrel; some were the people that we would call villains in their own right.

[MisterAnderson]

clericwolf said:

I will openly admit without compunction that the whole idea of Kalon Rhadon came from watching Equilibrium and wanting to put something akin to the Grammaton Clerics into fantasy writing.

Probably why I lub it so much!

Looking forward to seeing all you've done on Wyrden so far as well.

[Witcher Wolf]

Aye Mr. Anderson, the gates and doors to that city and world are about to be opened for the first time since I started the project

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter One: Red roses for past misdeeds

The howl of a fierce north wind charged across the road and tugged with an angry finger at the flap of a broken-down covered wagon. It had a shard of wood missing from one of the wheels and was skewed half way across a dirt track, just shy of a small encampment where six cloaked and hooded men struggled to keep out of the weather.

“It is a miserable day that begs I find someone to kill, just to make me feel better.” A tall balding heavy set man with hardened blue eyes and a day’s growth of beard spoke out at the roadside, the rain battered down from a grey and wan sky running into furrow and track where their horse stood champing at his bit.

The woman with him spoke in a chiding tone. “Calm yourself, Josef. You’ll scare folk; I know you’re not serious.” She patted the skittish horse. “You’ll scare Anfalan too, what’ll we do if he runs off?”

“It is this damnable weather, Gwen, it drives me to distraction and the cold buries itself deep in my bones.”

Gwen Haldry gave a deep exasperated sigh and put her hands on her hips; she was a plain but comely woman with short black hair and deep hazel eyes. The rain had half-soaked her green dress and the bottom of it was coloured a dirty brown where it trailed in the mud.

“Oh hush now, a little bit of wet never killed a man yet.”

A tall slender woman regarded both the husband and his lady with amber eyes. She licked her lips and brushed back a shock of red hair from her face, revealing elegant cheekbones and pointed ears. “You want to be careful there, m’ducks.” She began walking over to them. “People round here don’t take kindly to being threatened with death and all.”

Josef turned on his heel and strode to stand before his wife, shielding her from the approaching woman. “What do you want, treefer.” The woman was Kelanari. He snorted a cold breath of air and spat on the ground. “I’d would prefer it if you stopped there, creature of the forest. Your kind is naught but bad luck.”

Josef looked at the foreigner; her attire was of dark colours and made from silk and velvet. She didn’t bother with a cloak but a small neatly trimmed tunic crafted from light leather rested over her slender upper frame. The left shoulder had light plating with a metal disc that bore the mark of a snarling wolf’s head, teeth bared.

Amber bristled inwardly at the man and snorted just once fixing him with a look that could have frozen the air.

“Oh that’s a pretty welcome coming from a man who wanted to find someone to kill. I’m not the one making threats to folk they’ve never even met before. You want to share this camp; you do so quietly and without trouble.” Her tone changed and she flounced back towards a small shielded fire. Here she sat, giving both Josef and Gwen a terrible stare.

“Husband!” Gwen admonished, which drew amused laughter from some of the men by the fire; they looked rough types and could have been ex-soldiers or mercenaries. “You go over there right now and you apologise.” Like many of the common folk of Hestonia, she lived in fear of anything non-human; the stories of the Kelanari were frightening tales that her father had used to keep her in line when she was a child.

With a shrug Josef turned from his wife and pulled on the cart sullenly. He would be damned if he was going to go over to a mumbling treefer and say sorry. Josef was that kind of man; he’d rather be cursed from here to the ends of the earth than admit he acted out of haste, anger or was simply: wrong.

Gwen gave her man a cold glare and strode over to the Kelan by the fire. She coughed a little to get the other woman’s attention and then said timidly. “I am sorry for my husband. He’s a good man. Please don’t think badly of him.”

“Oh, I don’t,” the Kelan chirped and shook her head. “I am not thinking of that oaf at all. You try and give good advice and what do you get in return? Well, when he says that to the wrong person and they gut him and you for it – who’ll be laughing then, eh?” Then as an afterthought and with a bright smile she added. “No offence, the name is Amber. Have a good life.”

“I am sorry.” Gwen replied. She went back to her cart, climbed in and lay amongst the blankets and small goods. She heard her husband clatter outside and curse a few times, he banged on their damaged wheel and then followed her inside.

“It’s no good. I am no carpenter and I have no tools to fix it, Gwen. It looks like we’re going to have to walk to the village. It’s only two days and we can wait until the rain stops.” He looked down at her and made to touch her hair.

She reacted violently to that and shoved him away. “I’ll think about it.” Gwen was not happy and it came off her in burning whispers of temper. She narrowed her pretty hazel eyes and thrust her head against a pillow. “You’d best get some sleep and perhaps you’ll wake up a better man.”

Josef sat back sullen-faced in the cart and pulled his heavy coat around him Water dripped in and down part of the covered roof, which fortunately held against the torrent. He put his head in his lap and curled into a ball; the chill of the weather reached right to his bones.

The mercenaries outside were having an animated conversation regarding the cart, of course; it had goods and they were not the best men to be stranded near. They were eyeing it with the look of bored warriors, blood thirsty veterans of skirmish after skirmish. Amber caught fragments of their talk and frowned a little, she might not like the man or woman but their deaths wouldn’t really please her.

The fire began to burn low so the Kelan woman put a log on it. Just as she was about to draw her hand back one of the drunken men slurred into her ear.

“Hey. Do you want to make yourself scarce a bit with me?”

“Excuse me?” She blinked just the once and her jaw flicked downwards slightly agape.

“You heard.” He belched slightly and gave the woman a gap-toothed smile. “There’s a lot of us and only one of you. We’ve been thinking…we have.”

“That must have taxed a lot of your head to do that, imagine – all that thinking?” The Kelan snorted a laugh. “I can see the smoke from here.”

“Are you trying to be funny? What’s a little treefer like you going to do against, the six of us?” The drunken male turned his head to look at his companions. He turned it back and her fist, complete with knuckle-duster made of sharp metal, impacted with his nose and punctured the skin in six places.

“That does it!” she screamed. “I’m going to kill the next person that calls me a treefer!”

The drunken man staggered backwards and tried to free his short sword from his scabbard. He toppled over a pot and landed on his back. He flailed his arms, much to the merriment of his companions, who shook their heads and turned back to their drink and talk.

Amber was furious and it showed. She leapt upon him and pinned him to the ground. “You want to be mounted do you, you like that – want some more?”

This turn of events aroused him and in his stupor he foolishly said. “Yes, give it to me, treefer.” He felt the crotch of his leggings tighten against hers and fumbled for his belt. “I want it all!”

The Kelan gave him a wicked little wan-smile and drove the punch dagger down into his face six times, one for each of the men gathered there. The first blow shattered his nose and part of the bone was sent flying upwards into the soft part of his brain, blood splattered upwards and over the woman’s skin.

“I told you not to call me a treefer!” She hissed and leapt upwards to meet any more threats. Her eyes were wild and she drew the attention of the remaining five men.

“What the hell’s…?” The tallest of them, obviously the leader stepped away from the rest of his men and looked at the battered corpse on the floor. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that bitch.”

“Do I have to kill every single one of you filth-spawned, harlot humping jackals?” Amber clenched her fist and bared her teeth. “Come on then, let’s finish this and I’ll show you how a real woman fights.”

The men could scarcely believe their ears, but the hellcat before them stood her ground as they fanned out, weapons ready – to the over-confident men they had an easy prey and it would be over quickly.

“Where do you want your body dumping?” The leader snorted and snapped out a pair of lethal looking curved swords.

“I don’t intend to be the one that dies maggot.”

“Brave words for someone that’s about to fall.” Another mercenary spat on the floor. “I say we knock her cold, sell her to the slave pits.”

“Death is the only way for this one.” The leader said coldly and started to flank the lithe woman, tapping his one sword off the other. “Cut her down to size, men.”

[Witcher Wolf]

The rain seemed to match the mood of the small camp as Gwen and Josef, oblivious to the battle about to take place slumbered in the grip of Lady Nightshade’s foulest weave; the Dreamstalker curled her cat’s cradle of nightmares about them both.

Lord Rhage held sway here over all save Amber. Her anger came not from him but from deep within the Kelanari, part of her soul that the demon could not touch – this was the first spark of rebellion and it went unnoticed in the revel to come.

The Kelan woman was dressed for a quick battle; she did not wear armour or seem to possess that many weapons, but there was something in her stance that should have warned the men; they were being toyed with right from the start. There was more to Amber than first met the eye; her steps were those of a dancer but her eyes were those of a killer.

She flashed the men a quick smile and slipped the knuckle-duster from her hand to pocket it, blood and all. This was a signal for one of her adversaries to charge her, screaming and driving his sword into a full blown lunge.

Only seconds separate the victor from the dead in a melee. Amber went flat, sliding up and between the man’s legs as he charged. As she passed through, she turned her body slightly and smacked outwards with her elbows, this caused the mercenary to pitch forwards and stumble nearly dropping his blade.

She felt the pain of the impact, but sprang nimbly back onto her feet, grinning. The first assailant managed to stop his forward momentum, and growled in the back of his throat. He swore and turned again, only to find that the Kelan was upon him, kicking out with her heel. He raised his sword to defend and clearly noticed too late that Amber’s boots had armoured plates upon the side and metal parts to the heel. Her sweeping foot opened his jugular with a single strike. The man went wide-eyed and dropped his sword, scrabbling at his throat.

“Four,” Amber chirped. She drew out a pair of curved slightly serrated daggers and uttered a fierce warrior cry. The men rushed forward. It amused the Kelan that they tried to out-think and out-move her but her ferocious style and no-holds barred technique took them by surprise. She knew they had been expecting an easy kill, but Amber wasn’t about to go to hell just yet. She knew full well that if she didn’t put her all into this fight, it would be her last. She opened throats and cut deeply with her two curved blades, slicing with one and parrying with the other, until her three assailants lay dead.

The leader of the band watched the massacre of his men until he stood alone, virtually quaking in his boots, “What manner of beast are you?” he snapped. Amber could tell that pride and a stubborn heart drove him to remain and stand his ground – but she also knew his stomach churned and his resolve faltered.

She bowed to him. “I am a Kelan warrior born in the forests, what you people call a treefer.” She narrowed her eyes. “That term really gets under our skin, so I decided to get under yours. You did this! You thought I’d be an easy kill or an easy lay…” She shrugged. “As you can see, I am neither.”

She could hear in her voice that the tone of a mocking high-born Kelan, one of the people that she tried to distance herself from, but she wanted to rankle this man into doing something stupid.

“The fight’s not over yet, treefer!” The leader shook his head. “Had you left Kril alive we might not have come to this.”

“Oh don’t make excuses, human.” Amber spat and turned her back for a moment, putting even more of a challenge to the man. “You would have raped me and left me for dead or sold me as a slave and murdered those two in the cart – rather than look at us.”

He lowered his head. “Shall we end this?”

“Goodbye…” She turned in one fluid motion and with the spin her right hand stretched forth, a glittering object flew from outstretched fingers and the throwing knife found its mark directly in the man’s throat. “I was never one for beating around the bush.”

She watched the body fall to the ground with a detached kind of air, then walked over to his still twitching body and wrenched the knife from his throat. She cleaned the blade on his clothes and tucked it away in one of her many hidden scabbards.

“Idiot.” She spat again and turned her attention towards the cart after heading over to the back where a few supplies were stored she secured a small shovel. Then she moved off to the side of the camp and began to dig. She dug for many hours, as the sky turned from grey to black and stars twinkled brightly up above.

Dirt-flecked and sweat–streaked Amber let out a long sigh as the last of the graves were dug, one for each of the six men that she’d had to slaughter because they chose poorly to attack her. Part of her hoped that one day she might actually meet someone with a little refinement, who didn’t think with his loins, and who actually had some semblance of manners.

Before lugging the men into their graves, she stripped them of their equipment and useful gear, which she deposited in several small piles at the back of the cart. There, as the rain started to pour heavier and heavier, she knelt down, using part of the wagon as a wind-breaker and sifted through her spoils.

There wasn’t much of useful value apart from the weapons and a little jewellery; she could sell them for the right price at the local village. Crow’s Foot was only a couple of days away to the east and there was a reputable smith there, who wouldn’t ask any questions – this put a slight smile back onto her face and she started to load the best items, such as rings and various trinkets, into a pack.

Her sharp ears picked up the sound of an approaching horse; there was a steady ‘sloshing’ clop as it came through the wall of hazy rain.

She tried to discern the approaching traveller, moving further into the cover of the cart, sliding onto her belly beneath it. There she could watch as the slow moving creature and rider passed by.

The sharp wind cut across from the west and blew right past her just as the rider turned their horse onto the waterlogged road. For a moment, they seemed to stop and the hidden woman peered at them from her vantage point.

The horse was a magnificent animal and looked well bred and well cared for, his coat was a lustrous black and while streaked with the rain it still shone beneath the pale light of the stars. The animal’s eyes caught the barest of reflected starlight and glimmered for a moment as he turned his head; a gloved hand patted the beast’s neck reassuringly.

Amber’s attention was drawn to the rider now, but she couldn’t make out much of the figure; it had the build of a man and wore soft black boots. Over a medium lithe frame he wore a voluminous traveller’s cloak, the hood covering every aspect of his face until it turned her direction.

Beneath the shadows of his cowl a pair of eyes that almost mirrored hers shone with a fierce intensity. She caught her breath in the back of her throat and skittered a little closer towards the edge of her hiding place.

They were eyes that drew you in and once you were captured by those depths it was almost impossible to look away. Amber felt suddenly like a deer that had been caught by a hunter’s lantern and her heart skipped a single beat.

[Witcher Wolf]

“A hiding presence in the shadows does not bode well at all, for me or my mount.” The rider said to the near-darkness and Amber lay breathlessly still.

After a while, she moved a little closer and decided to throw caution to the wind. She brushed the mud off her clothing and emerged from hiding.

“Scrape the mud off and you’d be quite a princess indeed.” The rider’s voice was light hearted and soft, it had the twinge of an accent she couldn’t quite place, but as he continued to speak she decided he must be some kind of noble. “What brings a lone woman, especially one of your kind, to such a deserted wayside camp – are you friends of the occupants of that cart?”

How the in the hells did he know about the pair sleeping in a fitful nightmarish embrace in the wagon? Her eyes moved to look at the flap and then back to the speaker.

“Are you some kind of magician?”

“No lady. No magician. I have attuned senses and the wind is in the right direction.” There was a low almost mocking chuckle and the stranger dismounted the horse, patting the creature once more.

“I think you had best not approach any closer, friend,” Amber warned and adjusted her stance again, her hands moving behind her back to grasp a couple of long fighting knives.

“There is no need for hostility. I don’t mean you any harm.” The stranger stopped and bowed. “I scented your presence upon the air, the wind was not on your side; it blew from the west and well – I liked the smell, so I decided to stop.”

“Liked the smell?”

“To someone like me, the smell of a person is just as important as the looks, which is why I can say there are two in the cart there with you – one man and one woman, there were also others here but blood sings on the air and soaks into the ground, a fight perhaps?”

Amber blinked a few times and canted her head towards the cart again. “I know that I wanted to beat the hell out of the male,” she muttered softly and then her eyes narrowed a little. “The woman was trying to make up for his boneheaded attitude, she did a good job – might have even saved their lives come to think of it.”

“Oh?”

“There were some mercenary scum here, they got to thinking.” She mimicked and then let out a brazen snort. “Their idea was simple, rape me, rape her…kill us or sell us all as slaves and reap the reward.”

“Not exactly the brightest spark on the bonfire, then?” The man chuckled and stepped a pace forward from the horse. “They were inconvenienced in some way, I hope?”

Amber stepped back a pace and gave a curt nod watching him with a wary eye. “Yes. I had to kill them all, and their leader.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“I can smell the exertion of your body still on you, hear your heart still hammering in your chest – you are still in a state of heightened awareness after your battle. A Kelanari knife-fighter if my hunch is correct.”

“How did you know that?” She didn’t relax at all, there was something utterly disturbing about the man before her and it wasn’t his eyes.

“You have a particular stance that you have adopted, it is only found in one or two Kelanari knife-fighting schools. Master Rho’s school I would hazard a guess.” He adopted a smug kind of posture and lowered his hood, almost respectfully.

“Ok.” She stalked forwards and stood in the pouring rain before the man, looking up at him with defiant eyes. “Who the hells are you, how do you know so damn much?”

“I will trade you your name for mine.” He answered in a smooth seductive voice, reaching out to brush a lock of her hair from her eyes. She flinched but held her ground.

“What did you do that for?”

“I could not see your eyes; they are such pretty ones…mirrors of my own, so close.” The man lowered his head again. “Your name?”

Amber blinked again. “Amber. You?”

“Adam. Adam Wolfe.” The mysterious stranger stepped back and gave a single sweeping bow. “Lord Adam, but do not let the title bother you when it comes down to it…I am a simple creature of varied tastes.”

“I don’t think you’re simple at all.” She chided but blushed all the same for a moment, her thoughts derailed off into a different direction. “From what I can hear and deduce, you sound quite charming.”

He laughed loudly but not enough to wake the woman or the man in their cart. He inclined his head and looked back to his horse – the creature gave him a venomous stare in return and looked straight ahead.

“I think my mount is eager to continue on our journey.” He started to walk towards the animal and then stopped. “You are welcome to join us, unless you have other plans?”

She looked to the cart and then back to the horse, making up her mind in a split instance. “You and I are no longer strangers and I am trusting to the travellers’ code – if you have room on your magnificent beast for me and my spoils, then I will gladly share with you some of the profits when these are converted to monies.”

“That sounds like a fair trade to me. Amber.” Adam mounted the horse and offered the woman his hand. He was surprisingly strong for such a slim build and he was easily able to lift her in front of him onto the animal.

“So what do you call him?”

“Shade. I find it quite fitting.” The noble secured the woman’s spoils and then gave a slight kick to the horses’ side; they were off at a slow trot heading towards the village to the east.

Their journey took them away from the sleeping man and his wife and across a boggy, marshy countryside of rolling hills and dales, the land was barely flat and the small dirt road that had been cut into it by years of carts and horses was overflowing with muddy tracks and hoof prints.

Crow’s Foot was a small village that nestled just at the base of a mountain range known as the Talons; they were visible even from the far distance as the sun crawled into the sky early the following morning. Amber had fallen asleep on Shade and the horse gently cantered across the muddy field.

Back at the roadside encampment a bewildered Josef and Gwen emerged from their covered wagon under the early morning light and looked at the graves. They did not speak a single word and went about packing for the long trip to the village, something told them deep inside however it was not the last they had seen of the Kelan woman.

Adam had thrown his hood back the moment the rain had stopped and his long hair streamed in flowing silken strands behind him, he had the barest hint of a grin on his lips and urged the horse onwards with a few careful taps of his boot.

They were still quite a distance away from the village since it lay around two days travel from the camp site, across the open and rolling ground. With the advent of the sun, new smells came to Adam’s nose and he relished the soft wind whipping across his face.

The horse’s speed increased, which brought the Kelan woman out of her slumber. She opened her eyes, tried to sit upright and almost fell off. “Oh hells.”

“Morning.” Adam’s reply was cheery. “I tried not to wake you, but Shade wants his head.”

“I nearly fell off.” She muttered and looked down at the rapidly moving ground. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“You’ll be fine, and besides. I would not have let you fall.” He kicked the horses’ ribs harder and the animal lunged forwards into a gallop.

“You are certainly sure of yourself, Lord Adam.” Amber held onto Shade’s neck and leaned a little forward; aware that Adam’s arm had curled around her waist. “Oh.” She said with a sudden understanding.

The man gave a low chuckle and almost purred in reply. “I told you I would not let you fall, now hold on tight.”

The horse began to gallop faster and faster, so fast that the wind made it difficult for the Kelan to communicate with the rider. She looked around and gave a soft gasp as the landscape and scenery streamed by – the creature certainly had her attention as his magnificently muscled legs pounded onwards at breakneck speed.

Soon the hills and dales were a blur and she felt the push of Shade’s acceleration drive her backwards against the long haired man, she put her arms behind her and caught hold of his belt shouting at the top of her lungs.

“I have never ridden so fast an animal, how is this possible?”

“Shade has been in my family for a long time, he’s from a long line of arcane creatures that you might call mage-blooded.” Adam replied before his voice was taken away by the wind and all he could do was laugh.

“Impressive.”

A wild ride followed over the landscape, the mage-blooded horse didn’t seem to touch the ground as he gained speed, flowing like dark water across the furrows and runnels leaving only a wake of displaced liquid in his path. The scene whipped on by as Shade danced on the air, his hooves making a soft thundering sound as he leapt from a small hill to clear several hundred feet with a single stride.

In only a single day of breathless travel the magnificent creature bore his passengers towards Crow’s Foot without trouble, they were a blur upon the horizon to other travellers and nothing more.

A group of ill-prepared lurking bandits spied only the barest hint of movement before they were knocked off their feet by a blast of ice-cold air, the faintest sound of a woman’s laughter as the magical beast tore past them.

[Witcher Wolf]

What should have taken them two days only took them from the rising of the sun and the pale light of moon and stars, to the burning golden sky of next morning to reach a dip in the land where the village stood against the backdrop of grey ‘toothy’ mountains.

There Adam brought the horse to rest and Shade danced on the spot, flicking his head back and forth still eager to gallop like the wind.

“Easy there my friend, you do not want to worry the villagers. Imagine if they see you tear into the street at the speed of a bolt of lightning, what are they going to think eh?” The Lord patted his horse a little.

The animal didn’t sound convinced and he gave a loud snort while shaking his head from side to side, clearly still wanting to charge on in.

“Feisty.” Amber noted and ran her fingers into the mane of dark hair at the horses’ neck. “I like that, but Adam is right.”

“Thank you.”

Amber skipped off the horse for a moment to stretch her legs; she knelt down and then stood up giving Adam a sly smile.

“I think I am ready now.”

He once more leant down and offered the woman his hand; she took it and allowed herself to be lifted onto the horse once more. The Kelan leant back a little and adjusted herself on Shade’s back.

“Why don’t you use a saddle?”

“I never really liked them and well, Shade hates a saddle and refuses to have one put on his back. Now are you going to argue with a horse that can travel two days, in just one?” Adam smiled a little and gave the animal an affectionate pat before he guided the horse down a muddy path towards the village.

“No.” Amber laughed and settled her eyes on the approaching wooden walled enclosure. “I would say you’re right.”

Having been reined in, the magical creature cantered now the last few miles towards the approaching village, head held high and adopting a playful kind of posture – definitely showing off to the village folk that started to take some interest in the horse and those he carried.

The village lay in the centre of a stone walled compound and was made up of numerous medium sized buildings on the outer edges, towards the middle the buildings became more impressive and denoted the wealth of the folk that lived there. Tall chimneys rose from the most impressive structures and cast gouts of grey smoke into the blue sky, swirling upwards to be caught on the eddies of the wind.

As they passed under the wooden arch of the main gate both passengers could see the streets had some cobbled stones lining the most important routes, but most of them were no better than the muddy tracks and roads that lead from the camp to the village and beyond.

The sight of such finely dressed people brought the usual glances and stares from the villagers, some who sat on their boxes and small wooden chairs. A group of beggars swerved across towards them making a beeline for the front of the horse and Shade gave a snort as he saw them move.

“Easy.” Adam said quietly to the horse. “Keep calm there.”

He skilfully moved away from the gathering gaggle of ragged shapes and guided the horse down a side street. The men and women cursed him and someone threw a rotten apple in his direction; the dark haired man ducked it and sighed. “I would help them, but first they must try and help themselves.”

“I don’t know their circumstances.” Amber had always been a woman who tried to look after herself, number one and be damned to what anyone and everyone else thought – she gave a backward glance and then whispered into Adam’s ear.

“I would not pay them any more mind Lord Adam, really. They flung an apple at you out of spite; they don’t want to be helped. The money will go to drink and trips to houses of ill repute.”

“You say that as though it is a bad thing?” The dark cloaked man chuckled but smiled all the same. “Your counsel is wise Kelanari Amber, I will heed it.”

The woman was about to bristle when he called her a Kelanari, she was expecting the usual insult and mentally chided herself for thinking the man would stoop so low. “I am glad you did not call me a treefer.” She whispered again into his ear. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”

“Oh. I would never use such a base insult, my wit forbids me from acting like a lout – a rogue I might be, but I like to think with this scoundrel’s heart is at least a modicum of well breeding.” He paused to flick his hair back in a showy, obviously mock manner. “And refinement.”

“You make the word Kelanari sound almost respectable. I don’t usually get on with strangers and I am the last person to ask things like this.” Amber blinked a little at her own forwardness and frowned. “But I really do wish to learn a little more about the man I am travelling with now.”

“Ah…” He paused a little and offered a wonderfully charming smile. “I will tell you more of myself, when the time is right. I do trust you, but there are things about Adam Wolfe that must be learned as the sun and moonrise and set.”

“I will say one thing. I wished to meet a man that had a silver turn of phrase, perhaps the Old Gods were listening.”

“Oh you never know, my dear Amber, you never know.” He gave the woman a playful wink and guided his mount towards a nearby inn and stable. “You wished to sell your spoils and then give me some monies in exchange for the trip, this journey comes without a monetary price but I could use your skills.”

The Kelan woman turned her head to regard Adam, she got caught by his deep and penetrating gaze – a slow gulp followed and she gave a shy smile. “You have such a blunt gaze, Adam Wolfe, one that tears through a soul and into the bone beyond.”

“Does it frighten you?”

“Not really.”

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Two: Crow’s Foot, Wolf’s paw.

It was rare for Amber Savarre to trust anyone, let alone the noble that she now seemed to have as a travelling companion, she thought long and hard on this question and requested a little time to think his offer over.

He appeared mollified by her answer and tipped his head in her direction smiling a little more warmly. “I will stable Shade and then meet you in the tap room of the Hammer.” He gestured to the small tavern that sat in a quaint shadow across the way from the inn house.

“That sounds like a plan I can relate to.” The woman gave a little nod and turned, her eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the village. A slow smile played across her thin lips and she trailed into a nearby alley, wandering as if by chance until she tracked her way to a small wall.

A young boy remained in quiet vigil against a small wooden door; he wore ragged clothes and had a mass of unkempt ginger hair. His round face brightened when he saw the woman’s approach and he ran to meet her.

“Amber!” He threw his arms around her legs and hugged tightly.

“Hello Scamp, your uncle in?” The Kelan woman ruffled the lad’s hair affectionately and then she placed a tiny kiss on the top of his head. “Run and tell him that I have some weapons he might want to look at.”

At the kiss the young boy turned bright eyes upwards and fled through the door as fast as his legs could carry him, leaving it slightly ajar. Amber could hear his excited babble through the crack and caught sight of a stern faced man with swarthy skin.

“She’s here.” Scamp burbled like a brook and pointed to the door.

“Now…now lad.” The older man began and gave the door a suspicious look. “Who is?”

“Amber…Amber…Amber!”

“Oh well, you didn’t say it was her. She’s always got a good bargain or two for us, show her in you scallywag…before she runs off.” The portly smith adjusted his girdle and sat behind his table, adopting a stern faced businessman’s expression.

Scamp shot out of the door and dragged the Kelanari in by her hand almost bouncing on the spot.

“Hello my dear.” Maden began and smiled a broad smile at the Kelan woman. “You are a sight for sore eyes; it’s been a good few years since you’ve set foot here in Crows…what brings you back?”

“Uncle.” She replied and slipped into the chair in front of the older man’s table. “You really are still one of the sweetest men I could hope to have met, so unlike many of the other humans – never judgemental.”

“That sounds bad, what have you done this time?” The older man laughed, his grey eyes shining. He moved some of his shock of white hair away from his face. “I really need to lose some of this girth so I can keep up with pretty young Kelanari like you.”

“It will keep you warm in winter.” She said, smiling. “I have not done anything, well, except protect myself.”

“What happened?”

Under the ancient gaze that many humans seemed to have refined into a fine beam of thought, Amber’s resolve cracked and out came the whole story in a direct outpouring of curse words and expletives. She frowned a little when she saw the young boy standing nearby, a huge grin on his face.

“You killed six people, that’s a lot!”

“It’s nothing to be proud of, Scamp.” She tried to admonish the boy but his bright eyes shone with that complete youthful exuberance that defied all attempts to reason with it.

“Ok.” Uncle Maden replied and moved a few things off his table tapping on the surface. “Let’s see the spoils of victory, lass; better they’re dead than my favourite Kelan, eh?”

Amber emptied the contents of the bag on the surface and sorted through the various daggers and swords. They were of fine make but they were not exactly well cared for. The older man gave a snort and picked one up. He examined the hilt, pommel and the rest of the craftsmanship.

“Well, I can tell you one thing; never buy from a man called Craddock.” The smith’s eyes closed and he put the sword down with a sigh. “You know that I can only give you half of what these are worth, right, because normally I wouldn’t take such shoddy cared for weapons.”

“I know.” Amber smiled brightly for a moment. “Uncle, they’re didn’t belong to me to begin with – any profit I make off them is a good one right?”

Scamp laughed a little and then slipped out of the door, moments later Amber heard him hitting something with a stick yelling. “Die evil dog, die!”

“In that I suppose you’re right.” The older man conceded and then selected a couple of better looking knives. “I tell you what. I’ll give you nearly full price on these because it looks as if someone knew how to look after a weapon, at least.

“You are such a snob when it comes to blades Uncle, that’s why I love you so much.” Amber planted a kiss on the end of the old man’s nose. “Thank you.”

With their transaction out of the way, the pair of them sat and talked for a while. Amber was sad to see Maden looking so old, but that was the very nature of the Kelan’s extremely long life-span, another reason why she had little time for most humans.

They spoke of mundane things and how much Scamp had grown. Amber stayed with Maden until the sky began to darken and the first glitter of the evening’s stars lit the blue/black sky.

She made her way out from his small home and back towards the tavern where she had the feeling some kind of destiny was waiting for her – a yawning pathway that opened up into a giddy abyss.

[frivolity]

Superb ;D Please post more. NOW!

greedy frivvles.

I likes this a LOT. ;D

[Witcher Wolf]

Heh. A part per day

[Witcher Wolf]

A couple of shadows detached from a nearby alley and she turned towards the main street, her pace quickened slightly then she broke into a long run towards the cobbled street – she’d had her fill of confrontation and didn’t want to bury any more people for a while.

It was rare for lurking shapes in Hestonia to pose no threat but these pair of miscreants were friends of Scamp’s, they’d followed the Kelan woman all the way from Maden’s house and were about to try and impress her with their following technique. A little sadly a pair of young shoulders fell and they sloped off back towards the grotto.

A quick glance behind her determined she’d lost whoever it was that had decided to keep tabs on what she’d been doing, she shook her long red hair out and leant on a nearby wall outside the tavern.

“Good evening, there,” a recognisable voice whispered across from where she rested. Adam Wolfe stood, now dressed in a black and silver brocade coat in one hand he sported a glass of dark red wine and in the other a small chicken leg. “You were starting to worry me; I thought I might have put you off.”

Amber shook her head. “I had to do a few things, got talking to an old friend and then ran back here when I realised how late it was,” she offered a wan-kind of smile and then looked past him. “Are there many people in tonight?”

“Some. Why?”


“I don’t do well in crowds – we can go into the back room?” She gave a nervous look through the nearest taproom window and squinted as the glass distorted everyone and everything; the fire appeared to be a writhing dancer cast in orange and yellow flames.

“It looks Ok, for now.” The Kelan squared her shoulders and made to walk past Adam. He put a hand out and it landed lightly just resting for a moment on one of them, she shot him a glare but her hand didn’t rise to knock his away.

“Something spooked you, I can tell. Your heart is racing again and your scent is not that of someone that’s calm.”

The bluntness of that statement stopped her cold and she looked at him with rapidly blinking eyes. “What did you just say?”

“We come to this question again, I can smell your fear if you must know. It is not a great fear but enough to twitch my nose,” Adam removed his hand and gestured to the warmth of the tavern. “Come, it’s time that I gave you the first shred of who and what I am.”

Every instinct screamed at her to run and get the hells away from Adam as soon as he said those words, but her curious Kelanari nature made her unable to walk away. “You’re buying me a drink for that last statement of yours, I do not scare easily.” She lied in this regard, ever since she’d met the tall stranger her heart had been skipping beats like mad and she’d almost jumped at shadows in the alley.

Adam Wolfe nodded slightly and opened the door; a man stepped out and ducked under the tall figure’s arm. He gave a polite smile to both of them and wandered on his way. Adam gave him a nod and passed the man his glass, the fellow blinked but wasn’t quite sure to do with it – Adam had already entered the tavern.

With some reluctance Amber Savarre entered the taproom and immediately began to search for the nearest and darkest corner, ever since she was a child she had been picked upon by these places of men and hated them with a passion – it was only due to her companion that she even deigned to wander within.

Adam returned moments later with a bottle and two glasses. “Tonight,” he began with his usual suave tone. “We talk of old tales and drink elder wines.”

“There’s that silver tongue of yours.” She tried to focus on the man’s eyes, they were at least something she could fathom and she was slowly drawing her own conclusions as to the nature of their feral depths.

“I cannot deny who and what I am,” the man gave her another enigmatic smile but this time there was some humour that traced the lines of his lips. “But first we shall drink a toast, to settle the air between us?”

“There’s no foul air to be honest, but if that’s what makes you feel better my Lord, then so be it.” The woman held onto her glass until Adam tapped her hand gently for a moment, she let go as if a spark had touched her skin.

“Not until I pour.” He admonished and then filled the glass to just below the rim with a sparkling golden coloured wine; he mirrored the same motion and poured a generous proportion into his own glass.

Amber pouted slightly and touched her right hand with her left fingertips, she looked at the man again and then to the wine. “How much did this cost?”

“Enough…the cost is nothing and the wine is a mere trifle compared to the joy of the woman’s company, I am with this night,” he replied and seated himself at her table, taking his glass in his right hand and holding it to his lips. “You make the toast.”

“That’s an easy one,” she said with a dry laugh. “To handsome demons such as you and rogues, scoundrels and silver tongued vagabonds all.”

Adam smiled again while raising his own glass. “Amber Savarre it is a true pleasure to have met you, this toast I make to our new friendship. And may it bring plentiful rewards for us both.”

She put her glass down and gave Adam a nod in return, his toast pleased her and already she felt relaxed in the taproom. A rare event, one she wasn’t sure how to enjoy fully. Her eyes roved the rest of the occupants and she caught snatches of conversation, the people of Crow’s Foot kept themselves to themselves – another point in the village’s favour.

“I do have a question?” Amber asked as she picked up her glass again and downed some of the sparkling contents. “Well, two questions.”

“Go on?” Adam leaned back on his chair and adopted a lazy posture.

“First, what is this wine?” She licked her lips; the taste was something quite pleasant.

“Melan-gold,” Adam replied and took another sip savouring the wine. “And your next question?”

“I pride myself on being a tough woman. I come from the Kelan knife-fighting schools yet you create a sense of longing coupled with unease,” Amber narrowed her eyes in frustration. “Why?”

Lord Adam cricked his neck and pondered how best to answer this, he decided in the end that the truth was the logical option. “I have no idea, my mother told me that it was in my blood and someday I would learn the true meaning of what she meant – as you can see Amber, that day has not yet come.”

The Kelan gave an exasperated sigh and muttered, “I hate unsolved mysteries, and it makes me want to be the one to solve them,” she flicked her eyes over the Lord and gave a tiny smile. “At least you, as a mystery are a lot more pleasing to the eye than a mouldy old parchment.”

“I should hope so!” He laughed and poured more wine into his glass, giving Amber a playful smile. “More?”

“Always…”

He refilled Amber’s glass and then put the bottle down, the liquid within caught the firelight and threw shards of light across the room for a moment.

“What do we do now?” Amber questioned while entranced by the small flickers of golden light. “Where do we go from here?”

“I say we see where the road leads. I have never really been one to premeditate anything,” he answered in a double-sided manner and swirled the wine in his glass. “I…” Adam cut himself off.

“What’s wrong?” Amber turned her head sharply to look around as if there were hidden dangers everywhere. “Adam?”

“I am not sure,” he set the glass down and looked at the liquid for a moment, it was starting to vibrate a little – throwing concentric circles outwards in a steady rhythmic pattern. “But I don’t like the look of this.”

Amber’s eyes fell upon the glass and she blinked again, standing up swiftly and putting one hand on the rough table top. “I’d wager what ever it is, it’s trouble?”

Before Adam could answer several of the taproom’s occupants began to notice the odd vibrations, they were growing stronger now and the bottles behind the bar were shaking with an ominous rattle.

“I might be tempted to say an earthquake or tremor,” he looked from side to side and put his hand over Amber’s on the table. “But my ears pick up the sound of horses.”

“Do you think its bandits?”

“Crow’s Foot has little of worth, so it won’t be bandits.”

“Melanchan soldiers then?”

“I hear men shouting orders,” he replied and began to move towards the door. “Come on, we’ve got to find out what’s going on…if it’s bad…we’ll need to flee, get to Shade if you can.”

Amber had no choice, she took the bottle from the table and followed after the man cursing quietly to the Old Gods, they had such a sense of timing.

[Witcher Wolf]

There was a moment of silence when everything stilled for a single heart beat, something hung on the air for a split second and the dark sky became as red as a crimson tide. To those with an inkling of magical knowledge or understanding they could sense the presence of the warmonger, Lord Rhage.

His delight lit the horizon like a burning bonfire and with it brought the sound of thunder, only this was not the clatter of the clouds but the clamour of hundreds if not thousands of hooves. They had come at the bidding of a dark master to follow a savage path down hill and over dale, leaving Melanchan for the dark open lands of Vikart's fertile soil.

It is a sad irony that when the dark one commanded they slaughter and destroy in his name, Crow's Foot was a defenceless and tactically useless opportunity - of course the demon cared nothing for the usefulness of land and holding, he lived for battle.

A wave of heavy mounted soldiers hit the main gate of the village and shredded it with their impact; the horses wore dark chain barding and spiked nose-pieces. They did not require a battering ram in this case; the gate was matchwood before the hammer of their strike.

Two guards lost their lives in the first blow as the wooden structure gave way with a resounding crack, pitched backwards and trampled under iron-shod hooves.

In years to come those that survived this attack would ask the question how the enemy were able to approach so carefully and so thoroughly, it would not be answered until a long time in the future.

Adam bore witness to this as his flight from the warmth and relative safety of the tavern brought him into the street. His eyes narrowed as the gate came crashing down; he whipped his head around to Amber and gave a warning shout.

"The village is under assault!"

She heard this as her curiosity brought her to the edge of the door; she was out of the narrow space in moments and stood beside the tall dark haired man. The Kelan woman could only watch in morbid fascinated fashion as the two guards were crushed beneath the enemy's charge.

"Bastards, how did they get so close without being spotted?”

"A good question, but one we have little time to address at the moment. We stand little hope if we fight, but we may have to battle our way out." Adam gave a sigh and began to calculate the odds, they were not good.

"It's a blasted army!" Amber Savarre looked this way and that, her knives already in her hand as she let the bottle fall. "We need to get to Shade…"

They had little time to react before the first of the stampeding horsemen reached where they stood, the invaders spread like a cancerous growth throughout the village - those that resisted they gutted upon the spot, those that did not resist they speared and toyed with like broken dolls.

At their head was a heavy set, bulky low-browed man, he had the military cut of a Melanchan soldier and his armour was stained red. He wore a suit of large plate mail with jagged curved shoulder plates and left his head un-helmed.

As his horse cleared the gate he bellowed orders to his men, his shock of blonde hair snatched by the wind.

"Leave none alive, the Lord Rhage demands it!"

Amber watched him kick his horse into a flailing rise that broke the skull of a fleeing peasant, the nose bone shattering like ice. He wheeled the beast around and then spied a fleeing child, with a roar of encouragement he drove the animal onwards, his target now clearly marked.

She knew she couldn't do a thing and was forced to watch the struggling boy bore down upon by champing teeth and clattering hooves.

A brave man attempted to intercept the charging warlord but fell to the side as a brutal blow opened his throat as the horseman's sword rose and fell, he staggered and clutched at the wound as if his fingers could stem the bloody stream.

Adam had seen enough, he turned his attention to the stables and where his horse was. Shade would no doubt be trying to escape. He cursed this ill-fated night and ran full pelt at the open stable-yard knowing full well that he risked being spotted.

The warlord's horse impacted with the boy's back and there was a sickening crunch as the armoured creature pulped bone and muscle beneath black iron hooves. To add a sickening insult to the proceedings, the beast stopped and pranced a little on the mauled body further ruining it.

Rhage's followers tossed torches onto thatch and tinder; they spread oil over the meagre homes of those that lived in Crow's Foot. They brought with them the stench of death and its black smoke cloyed through every street, alley and garret.

Mewling babies were silenced as they were torn from their mother's arms, thrown onto the still-burning pyres as the soldiers laughed and slaked their thirst for blood with the lives of countless innocents.

It was a scene of horror, chaos and terror. None could flee and those that fought back were soon overwhelmed, valiant defenders pierced through their fragile bodies by long spears held in the callous hands of jeering riders.

There was no end to the charge of destruction as Adam sprinted towards the stable-yard, teeth gritted. He fought back the anger that burned in his dark heart, the blood rushing in his ears.

He was seen and a horseman broke away from the rest of the pack to bear down upon him with bloodthirsty speed. Amber Savarre raced after the fleeing lord and she witnessed the ride of the enemy, one of her knives skidded off the charging rider's armour.

The soldier did not break his stride he simply offered a grin from under his helmet as Adam stopped and turned when he heard the hoof-beats and saw the flash of a skittering blade.

The horseman sneered and put his head down urging his mount to go faster, a long sharp spear held at the ready - a bloody tip hung with gore inched closer and closer.

It was not fear that lit the defiant lord's eyes, Amber wondered as she saw him face his own oncoming death - if Adam feared anything.

The world seemed to pass into a liquid sense of time, as if the very nature of ‘the flow’ was interrupted and she was distant, a casual observer of her friend’s final moments.

In truth it all happened so quickly barely anyone saw it, the only witnesses were a pair of cowering frightened children that hid under a broken cart and the Kelan.

At the moment of near-impact the lord gave a grunt and turned himself to the side so the spear slid along just past him, he was not to be such an easy prey. This took the rider by surprise as he was now rocketing past the nimble man at speed, with a snarl that seemed so unlike Adam he wrenched the other from his saddle.

The Kelanari women let out a low whistle while she stopped in mid run, whirling her head about to see if she was in any danger. She was alert and primed should a single soldier approach, her glittering knives held in elongated fingers.

The rider's trajectory took him nearly into the stable-yard's main wall, he hit the ground with a heavy grunt and there was a slight crack as his spear snapped in two, throwing his one arm out of its socket.

He tried to rise and his eyes fell onto the lord, Adam stood there with his face twisted into a mask of pure fury. His handsome features were contorted with a boundless show of rage, the demon lord would have been proud of this, save that the man's anger did not stem from him but from another source entirely.

"It seems," Adam set a boot against a stone and kicked it towards the struggling horseman. “You broke your toy.”

The rider did not quite hear the spoken words as he tried to get up again; he snapped his shoulder back into place with a yell of pain. One fist impacted the muddy street and he rose with a look of revenge falling across his dirt-splattered face.

"You will pay for that!" he snorted and spat.

Adam couldn't hear him; all he could hear was the sound of battle's harsh clamour around Crow's Feet and the whisper of a beautiful voice in his ear. A female voice that demanded he push aside who he was and let something else loose.

A twisted smile fell onto Adam’s lips as he looked up with a growl, the sound stopping the advance of the horseman. He drew his sword and stood a distance away.

"What in the name of Rhage?"

"Not quite." Adam answered with a snarl.

Amber watched all of this from a distance then turned and caught a glimpse of a running soldier, she saw him charge toward her and the Kelan reacted with an executioner's stroke, her first knife took the man's ear off and the second opened a red slash across his eyes.

She severed both of his eyeballs in a single move, and as he fell screaming and clawing into a pool of muddy gore her booted foot kept his head under until he stopped.

Then it was down to the dismounted horseman and Adam Wolfe. They were locked in a stalemate of sorts and the swordsman circled his opponent looking for an easy opportunity to strike.

Adam drowned in the rush of his own heartbeat and then it was all silent, for a moment he saw the vision of a terrible yet beautiful figure - she wore the raiment's of a priestess replete in crimson glory.

Her hair was like a funeral pyre burning bright orange against the cold cloak of the sky.

Her eyes were that of a feral wolf rising to defend the life of her first born and she gave a single nod before the image faded and Adam saw the hand of the demon lord behind the strings of the man.

Lord Adam’s head flew back and in a ragged gasp of choking breath he gave vent to a scream of anger.

“Adam!” Amber began to move towards the man, quickly.

"Come no closer!" He screamed and then felt warmth trickle down his face, blood as red as the vision-woman's hair flowed freely from his nose and over his lips - he tasted that crimson river and shut his eyes.

Amber skidded to a halt, what Adam could not see was what was truly happening to him. She watched once again in curiosity as the horseman's nerve shattered like a spear against a metal shield, the man dropped his sword from his fingers and turned to run.

It was a prey instinct and it suited the predator in Amber's companion like a pair of well-worn gloves, but this time things were different, as if the whole slaughter had been a catalyst up to his rebirth.

The cry of anger transformed in a sharp-note and a venting roar of release bit into the air, produced by the slavering jaws of a lupine.

Atop broad shoulders covered in sleek black fur and with the movement of taut elegant muscles, the head of a massive wolf rested, ears curling back already.
The man was gone, transformed by the power of an ancient and dormant bloodline, unknown to him and placed upon Hestonia by the first ones from which the world took its name.

Adam was now a creature of sleek rage-fuelled killing fury, as dark as the night sky and with a whipping bushy tail. Feral eyes the colour of the Goddess’ own burned brightly as he swung his head about sniffing the air, then he turned to regard the fleeing armoured soldier.

With a snarl from his dewlaps and a flex of dagger-like claws he drove his massive bulk towards the man at full speed, the sight of the monster caused some of those still living to run at the army that devastated their homes.

The fleeing soldier had no chance and neither did a group of horsemen that he ran towards, screaming out in intelligible babbling words about the hell-spawn that dogged his every stumbling footstep.

It was a frenzy of death that made their first assault pale in comparison, while the creature seemed to have no rhyme or reason in its attacks and they did not know from whence it came, it fell upon them in a vengeful slew of claws and teeth.

Throats were torn out and their armour proved no match for the lethal sharp claws of this adversary, a howling-screaming-roaring whirlwind of scything natural anger ripped across them and gouts of blood bubbled from terrible wounds.

Their horses were butchered as they tried to get them out of the way, spears were snapped in two like match-sticks and riders were dismounted, their backs broken by the impact of being plucked from the saddle and hurled onto the ground.

Amber had seen nothing like this in her life. The monster that ravaged in a single-minded gleeful blood-soaked vendetta among those men seemed nothing like the silver tongued lord.

Adam in this form brought forth a primal fear from deep inside the Kelan’s heart, all her training at the knife schools had not prepared her for the creature that now towered over ten feet in height and ripped a swathe through the enemy.

The savage fury of Adam Wolfe became akin to a dangerous drug - she wanted to run and put this all behind her, distance herself from the predator of the flesh and the bestial avenger - her legs would not move and she was rooted to the spot.

The wolf-creature, the shifter was however not afraid and he revelled in the letting of blood more than those men who sought an easy kill. They fell beneath his ravaging jaws and blood soaked clawed fingers, tumbling into an abyss of death before their bodies could hit the floor.

Finally the man that challenged Adam stood with no guard, whimpering upon the floor head cowered under both his arms as if that might save him.

A massive clawed hand rose to strike but alert ears pricked at a sound off to one side, a thrumming arrow ended the soldiers' life and the man dropped forwards a final gasp leaving his body.

Adam turned with a roar of anger and bared his teeth towards this new aggressor, he saw the red-armoured man nock another arrow, a warning scent reached his nostrils and overrode the glorious thrill of battle.

The general Fenaric took aim and fired, cursing as the nimble beast dodged his second arrow as the ground exploded into a chemical furrow of displaced earth.

"Ten thousand black ikons to the man that brings me the beast's head!" He roared and the army suddenly had a new target, the hunter now had become the hunted.

Adam Wolfe and the beast within him were a wily pair, now their rage had been sated in the life of the transgressor Adam convinced the creature, as a war raged in his head for control - flee now and fight again later.

As one both wolf and the Imperior male within, turned and gave a challenging bellow towards the crimson armoured rider and his men, then the beast snarled and fled the scene of carnage moving with some speed towards the edge of the village.

Amber Savarre was now torn in two, she looked to the running wolf creature and then to the village, she could do nothing but weep as she recognised a young boy pinned to a nearby door by a rider's spear.

"Scam..." The words died in her throat as she ran over. It was her turn to push aside grief and experience the cold steel of anger, bright amber eyes shone with furious tears and she was about to tear the thing from the boy's body.

Her shoulder was impacted by a heavy nose, she turned knives in hand. Shade bunted her again with an insistent kind of motion, the animal looked to the boy and then the woman and then to the horde of charging riders.

We have little time fair of eye and bright of hair; we must go lest my master suffer the same fate as the boy. One dark beast he has become, but against a thousand armoured warriors he will be slain.

The woman just stopped and blinked as a mental mind-voice whipped into her consciousness, the angry tears forced back for now and looked wordlessly at the sleek horse, a hand rested on his neck.

"Maden?"

Dead I am afraid, killed as he tried to protect the boy - there was nothing you could have done bright-hair, now we...must...go!

[Witcher Wolf]

The horses' mental urging broke through the shield of her thoughts and lit the ember of understanding, her eyes took in the scene of carnage and she swung herself up on the animals' back whispering softly to him. "Take me to Adam then."

Shade obediently wheeled around and fled past a group of startled horsemen at a fiendish gallop, putting his head forwards and snorting a deep breath. Amber held on for dear life and gripped his neck wrapping her fingers into his mane.

A cry went up but it was too late to pursue the horse as it became nothing more than a silver streak of light, dumbfounded the guards watched Amber and Shade make their escape.

General Fenaric ignored this and surveyed the carnage he had wrought. He smiled a little, the Lord Rhage would be most pleased and there was surely to be a great reward for this slaughter. Nearly everyone in the village was dead or dying – he cast a nod to his horsemen and struck hard against his own animal’s belly speaking a cold order.

“Search the village. Put any survivors to the sword and gather the loot.”

The smoke from the burning buildings gathered for a moment and formed a twisted apparition; the general turned his head to regard it. It was the face of his master the demon lord Rhage. He bowed his head in subservience and awaited the creature’s harsh guttural tones.

The smoke wore a frightening visage, a horned image with serpent like eyes and elongated teeth.

Rhage’s voice echoed through the dying village. “You have wrought much bloodshed today my general, but there is much more that you can do.”

“You have but to ask master?” Fenaric replied getting down from his horse and kneeling on the ground, his red armour lit by the fire and the harsh light of the bloody sky.

“I do not ask!” The Demon lord’s voice cracked like a whip and Fenaric felt his throat constrict for a moment. “I demand! Such is the way of my kind.”

“Forgive me.” Fenaric choked on those words, it wasn’t in his nature to be humbled by anyone let alone the Warmonger.

“This once…” Rhage whispered in his ear and then began to laugh softly; the sound chilled those that heard it to the bone.

“Your orders then?” Fenaric bristled inwardly but kept his thoughts firmly focussed upon the smell of death.

“Raze Crow’s Foot to the ground – we must incite another war…I grow bored with these petty dalliances.” The demon lord spoke in a mocking tone curled with sibilant echoes.

A sharp smile appeared on Fenaric’s lips and he stood from his kneeling posture. “I shall make a war the likes of which Hestonia has never seen.”

“We shall see Fenaric.” Rhage’s words whispered on the wind and the demon withdrew his presence, scattering the smoke as he did so.

Fenaric stood for a while and listened to the sounds of the village’s last moments before he turned and mounted his massive warhorse. “The Demon lord commands we raze the village and make it into a black mark upon the lands!”

A cheer went up from his men and they gathered fresh torches, utilising the village’s store of pitch to coat some of the more resilient buildings. In less than one hour as they put their backs to the smoke and ruined settlement, the village of Crow’s Foot was a blazing pyre in the distance.

Fenaric was silent brooding heavily upon the day’s events and now he turned his mind to the task he had set himself, to wage a war upon this world the likes of which would be the bloodiest yet.

With a cry to his men he turned northwards and galloped off, unconcerned with one escaped Kelan and a mage-blooded horse.

Time turned onwards as three separate groups made their own paths across Vikart’s soil, Fenaric’s men towards their encampment. Amber, Adam and Shade headed towards the mountains and finally Gwen and Josef, unawares of the fate that had befallen the village made their arrival after a slow two day journey.

Within the shroud of the early morning as the sun hid behind grey clouds, the two walkers came over the hill and stopped as they saw the devastation beneath them.

“Goddess,” Gwen put her head onto Josef’s shoulder and felt the strength go from her knees. “I feel sick.”

Josef had no words for a long time; he turned his head away from the slow curls of grey smoke, spiked corpses and flickering fires.

“Who could have done this?” Gwen’s question was an insistent one and she fought down a wave of revulsion as the wind brought with it the smell of the charred dead.

“Melanchan’s soldiers,” Josef answered darkly and half-closed his eyes. “Bastards, what did we ever do to them? Crow’s Foot was just a farming village, it was nothing!”

“It will never end Josef; they will keep burning and destroying until there’s nothing left!” Gwen’s voice rose slightly and she fell to her knees in the muddy earth.

“There is one thing I can do,” Josef narrowed his eyes and knelt by his wife. “But you won’t like it Gwen.”

“Not that?” Her voice took on a tinge of fear.

“We had friends in that village and now it’s flat dead earth,” Josef bellowed and put one hand into the mud. “All I wanted to be was a simple farmer, just tend the crops, and make a few ikons here and there.”

“But I have heard stories of what offering yourself to the Anshada does to you!” She was trying to plead with him now, but Josef was distant, revenge on his mind.

“I have made my mind up Gwen. I love you, but my heart won’t stand it if I have to bury you.” He stood up and paced back and forth his feet sloshed through the hoof prints made by Adam’s horse.

“Josef,” she bit her lip and forced tears away. “If you are set on this path then as much as it scares me I will walk it with you.”

“No…no Gwen…I can’t ask you to do this,” it was his turn to plead. “The path takes a bitter toll on women; you know the Shaper’s feelings, the Old God draws heavily upon a female’s power.” Josef’s lip trembled a little.

“No. As you make up your mind, mine is so made up as well!” She felt a wave of anger directed towards the Shaper and then to Josef, it quickly calmed – abating like a swift squall.

Josef sighed exasperated and closed his eyes. “Our fate has been written then.”

The sun tried to emerge from behind the wan clouds but the grey/white foggy wall kept it firmly locked away. Gwen and Josef put their backs to the ruin of Crow’s Foot and began to trek the long journey towards the Talons and the port of Jakarta beyond those dark forbidding mountains.

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Three: Unholy Alliances

They were united in a common set of goals but their union lasted only as long as there was a definite leader, a powerful creature that could dominate all others and impose his will upon the assembled demon kind.

Akas: the Bloodless One had been such a leader, ripped from his sealed chamber and thrust like a dark hand over the lands of Hestonia, he spread his corruptive influence further and further dominating the lesser minions and the demon lords.

Only Varsil, Rhage and Nightshade seemed to be immune to his power and control, this was a fact that burned brightly in his black heart – they were united with him but they did not serve him out of loyalty or because he forced them to obey, he could not fathom this and it drove him to plot against them.

In the twisting miasma of the shadow-lands where Akas made his home in a black iron keep he sat upon a throne of white ivory, brooding into a pool of crimson sticky blood. The bloody pool had shown him the future so far and had given him a unique insight into the events that were to come.

Now that ruby red surface was as silent as a morgue and nothing appeared in the rouge depths. He could only witness with a mounting sense of anger his own visage, the corrupted blackness that slithered in the liquid.

His physical bulk was that of a massive man with a huge belly, within the centre of his stomach a giant maw lined with rows of blackened teeth sat and occasionally shifted to chew rhythmically.

His head was typical of most demons and bore four horns, two that curved from his forehead and two that curled from under his chin. His lips were thin and redder than the rest of his skin, while his eyes burned like red-hot coals under sharp elongated brows.

Two iron bracers were locked about his heavy upper arms and over the lower half of his body he kept some kind of modesty with a black loincloth. Over which was embroidered one of the seals of unmaking, rumoured to have been written by the Shaper himself in a moment of madness.

Lastly as he flexed his hands each finger tipped with a dagger-length black fingernail he could see a faint ripple in the pool, this forced him to lean a little closer, a whisper of grey smoke roiled from his elongated nose.

His thoughts drifted to the three rebel Greater Demons and he leaned back on his carved ivory throne, the arms cracking slightly under the pressure of clenched hands. He had been driven under-ground and sealed in that burning chamber by the wise ones, they had been the cause of his loss of power and while he was out of the way the others came and did as they wanted.

The Wise Ones were all dead, slain by his agents during the time of his rebirth – yet still he felt unsatisfied and required more. He was not content with the death of great kings and the toppling of empires. These things were all nothing compared to the nagging thoughts that there were still creatures that needed to be put to the yoke and chain of his master plan.

Varsil seduced her way across Hestonia and brought with her nothing of value to his campaign, she was gaining power and soon she might be able to oust him from his rightful position.

The ivory under the grip of his hand creaked again as he flexed his fingers once more, small shards of it dropped like tiny snowflakes.

Nightshade infested the dreams of mortals and the darker desires of his minions; she seemed to have her own agenda. It was something that merited some further investigation, but that did not for a moment serve to assuage the mounting rage that the self-named Demon king felt when he focussed upon her.

Then lastly there was Rhage. He was a dangerous one and required dealing with as soon as possible, he had set about a ruthless campaign and butchered his way across Hestonia with the aid of Fenaric, a lapdog mortal that desired to stand shoulder to shoulder with his kind.

The thought of this was enough to prompt Akas into fits of stuttered laughter where his bellowing voice shook the throne room and caused a few more shreds of stone to drop from above him.

The Lord of Madness stood from his seat and vented another roar before he waded into the pool, lashing at the surface with his sharp fingers and shredding his image. Smoke boiled from his nostrils and the resulting screams of rage drew the attention of some of his minions.

One such minion made his presence known with a whisper of silken dark fog; it rolled in from the edges of the room and coalesced into a hooded grey robed figure.

“I hear my lord’s rage filled cries and wonder why? What vexes thee great king Akas?” The creature kept his head lowered and subservient to the last.

The Demon king turned baleful eyes upon the minion and strode over through the sloshing red to stand before him, claws inches away from striking to tear.

“Does the king have fault with the actions of his Unholy Trinity?” The creature once more whispered in an almost seductive tone, choosing his words carefully.

“Speak what you know herald? Before I rip your being into tiny shreds?” Akas was in no mood for play and his temper was already upon a thin blade’s edge.

“I am nothing more than a grey shadow compared to thyself king of Demons, but I do know that Rhage has overstepped his boundaries as your Warmonger.” The sibilant creature slithered to one side and began to stroke Akas’ fingernail almost lovingly.

“True,” Akas begrudgingly gave a nod and stepped back from the stroking minion; he strode to lower his large bulk back upon the ivory throne and fixed the other with a fire-laden stare. “Speak more Ssharan.”

“As you command it,” He replied and dropped into a low bow. “The general Fenaric plans to wage a war against Hestonia that will be unlike any we have ever witnessed.”

“There is nothing wrong with war.” Akas snorted and waved a hand in dismissal.

“No my king, there is naught wrong with war but when the Warmonger feasts upon the souls of those consumed in battle, he grows stronger,” Ssharan looked up with slit-like golden eyes. “Perhaps even stronger than you?” he uttered these final words as carefully as possible; Akas’ anger was legend amongst the lower forms.

[Witcher Wolf]

A heavy laden silence fell with a pregnant pause over the Demon king’s chamber and it was as though the very walls sulked for a moment, slowly the large being shifted his weight and rumbled in the back of his throat – the minion had a point.

“Your words are spoken with caution yet they are lined with wisdom.” The Demon king gave a snort and rubbed his hand across his mouth that lay in his belly, the tongue licked out almost as if it were another entity entirely lapping at his fingers.

“If it pleases the Demon king,” Ssharan whispered softly, seductively again. “I can offer more insight. I am often abroad upon the mortal realms, walking as one of them…I could learn more of the General’s plan?”

Akas sat and brooded upon this further for a few moments, the blood pool bubbled and yet no images came. He looked at his minion and back to the pool, giving a final nod of acceptance.

“It is my pleasure to serve you my king…”

“Until I grow tired of you…”

“Indeed.”

Now Akas leaned back on his chair and gave a curious look to Ssharan for a moment, eager to learn a little more – today had been a boring one; it was starting to get better.

“Fenaric is a wily one. I can sense he will not be so easy to dupe. Do you have a plan minion?” Akas tapped his fingernails against each other in a rhythmic motion, to clink them one by one.

Ssharan replied with a whisper of a smile his face barely seen under the hood, golden eyes shimmered with a malicious intent. “I have the seed of a plan that could work in our favour, what I am about to propose is drastic indeed.”

“You have me intrigued enough to command you to speak further.” Akas chuckled thinly and licked his lips in anticipation.

The minion began to pace a little under the ever-burning scrutiny of his master; he drew in a deep breath and pressed onwards with a slick tone. “We draw mortals into our plan, ally with them and use them to further our own goals.”

The Demon king was forced to blink at this suggestion, he sat for a long time in deep contemplation before he began to laugh again – the sound was as soulless as the being himself.

“Ssharan, have you lost your senses,” he cackled without a trace of humour in his vicious tones. “Do you really think we need mortals to help us in our schemes? These are our playthings…our entertainment and our enemy?”

The minor Demon quailed under Akas’ laughter for a moment until he regained his composure and dared to shake his head. “My king…please listen to me for the moment…if Rhage is using a mortal, such as Fenaric…why cannot we likewise create our own web and disrupt his plans…set mortals to fight mortals…weaken Rhage’s army and slay the General, take his lapdog away from him.”

Suddenly as if a moment of clarity burned into his horned skull Akas stopped laughing and opened his maw to smile. “In the depths of your insanity you have reached a clear spring of thought, yes…this may work out to our advantage in the end…you will put this plan into operation.”

“My king…”

“But if it fails and you fail me. I will flay your dark soul and place the tatters as a tapestry over my throne.” The Demon king warned with a final statement before he gestured for Ssharan to leave him.

The grey robed Ssharan gave a single nod and drifted from the throne room in a pall of ethereal smoke, he curled into nothing and left the Demon king to once more sit and brood darkly upon the ivory chair.

Before he could gather his thoughts he was once more disturbed as the door to his cavernous throne room flew open and in stalked the lady Varsil.

She was a perfect creature in every way shape and form, designed to enthral the hearts of mortal and Demon alike. When the Shaper cast her from the mould of the universe he did so without blemish and without fault, the only mistake he made was to make her heart from a shard of regret and her soul from a kiss goodbye.

The Demon could choose to take any form she wanted to achieve her seductive goals; today she wore the raiment of a mortal-seeming woman. She had long dark hair that reached almost to the floor and her well muscled, tanned and amply endowed body was caught in a dress of red sheer silk, it left little to the imagination.

Her feet were bare and her fingernails were coloured gold, around her right foot she wore a tiny golden chain replete with a number of small bells that made a soft chiming noise as she walked.

Her large dark almond-shaped jade eyes were rimmed with black kohl and her lips were lined in a dark red lipstick that matched the decadence of her dress. She paused a respectful distance from the brooding Demon king and waited to be addressed, Varsil was no fool when it came to demonic politics and she played the part of lady to the hilt.

Akas’ eyes shifted to a coal black colour and he inclined his head partly in respect, mostly in boredom. The pleasure he might have felt upon seeing the woman before him was already leeched away by the Demon king’s very nature – the lord of Madness’ curse was that he could find nothing with beauty within, all was grey and wan; all things bored him to the extreme.

“What a pleasure.” He lied.

“That is my forte Demon king, most high of all Demons and most cruel.” Varsil’s voice took on the usual tones of soft velvet as she smiled coyly, the effect lost upon Akas’ massive form.

“You are here for a reason, why do you come before me to disturb me with useless prattle and platitudes?”

Her veneer did not crack for a moment even under such a furious assault of hurtful words, she knew well Akas and his nature and it amused her more to push the boundaries as much as she could.

“I came to bask in your glory and swoon in your magnificence,” she simpered for a moment then her laughter broke like an icy chill. “I have come to seek a favour from you my king, we should be strong allies…you and I…”

Akas’ interest perked for a moment and the bored Demon king gave her a nod of acceptance.

“Continue?”

Varsil stalked through the pool of blood her red dress seeming to draw the liquid into it, changing the colour to a deeper crimson. When she emerged on the other side she was completely dry and not a trace of blood stained her clothing or skin, she licked a single drop from an elegant fingernail.

The Demon king watched this vaguely impressed and looked down as the woman came out of his pool, the surface shimmered and there was a single image for a moment. It was of the lord Rhage as a usurper sitting upon his throne and wielding his power.

“You saw something?” Varsil enquired with a soft flicker of mirth.

“Rhage was seated in my place, lording over my domain…basking in my power.” Akas’ voice was akin to cold iron and it struck a chord in the Demon woman’s heart.

“I would guess that you know he plans to take your place as king of all Demons?” Varsil almost purred this as if it pleased her. “I would rather not see such a base entity in command of such a position; he could be our worst enemy.”

“I cannot refute your statement at all lady Varsil.” Akas vented another sigh and with it a cruel whisper of smoke.

She continued loftily. “You are a fool if you trust him king Akas,” her eyes fluttered a little and she took one tiny breath. “He will destroy us all and we shall be trapped again!”

The Demon king listened as her voice raised a notch and likened it to a screeching cat or fingernails drawn down glass.

“Lady Varsil,” he began coldly. “Do not try my patience. I know full well the plan that Rhage has set in motion, claiming lives all over Hestonia…taking power from wanton destruction…normally I would care nothing for the fate of mortals, but in this case our fate is tied as much as we hate it…to theirs.”

Varsil softened in her approach and adopted a coy expression once more. “Forgive me king Akas…I did not mean to speak out of turn, it burns my blood to think of that base creature taking the place of one so well suited to rule.”

A slim smile crested the demon’s lips and he shook his head taking a moment to laugh once more. “You are a wily one Varsil. Well suited to the role of seductress and temptress, but you do know your power holds no sway over me…I am beyond the pleasures of flesh and blood.”

“It is a raw pity,” the Demon woman sighed softly and her eyes burned with unkempt desire. “It is not in my nature to give up even if the cause is lost.”

“If you can stir desire within that which has none…” Akas gave a wicked grin then showing all of his fangs. “I will make you my Queen.”

Even this offer took the lady Varsil by surprise and she let out a small gasp, she quickly recovered her composure and gave a small nod to the Demon king while her coy smile remained in place.

“I can only try my best king Akas.” Varsil purred once more and looked upon the Demon king, compared to many she had seen he was far from handsome and far from the perfect catch but his power was an attractive lure.

Akas’ offer was made partly out of curiosity but mostly out of spite, he knew that the curse upon him was absolute and no-one had been able to break it yet. He was the lord of Madness and Despair; it was fitting for him to wallow in those dark emotions.

He was inwardly amused since Varsil would likely concentrate all her effort and energy on pursuing him now. This meant that she could not be distracted by any of the other players in this grand chess game, she would keep her attention firmly fixed upon the Demon king and her desire for power would override her caution.

Akas had one more trick to play however and one more lure that would ensure he remained the centre of the Demon woman’s lustful thoughts. He spread his hands upon the throne of ivory and closed his eyes; they shifted into silver pools for a moment before they were lost behind heavy lids.

The lady Varsil watched this with a slightly raised brow on her elegant features; she folded her arms and studied the king intently. If she played her hand right she may well not have to bed this creature, he was powerful but also repulsive. Her curiosity however could not be assuaged and she had to ask in a low shimmering voice.

“My king, what do you do?”

“Watch and learn lady.” Akas’ voice dipped into a low baritone and he shifted form with a low groan, muscles, bone…flesh and sinew all crying out as the demon king wrapped a new visage over the old, forcing his structure to adopt something totally different.

Varsil watched this with wide eyes and slowly her look of distaste turned into one of outright lust. She licked her lips slightly as the demon king took on a more pleasing shape, a shape that forced her to re-evaluate her earlier musings about bedding such a loathsome creature.

“My king,” she whispered in dulcet tones. “You are full of surprises.”

“I find it wise to keep a few secrets should the need arise.” Akas was dwarfed now by the ivory throne but still held the power and majesty of his station.

She beheld the Demon king in a new light, gone was the bloated heavy set monster with the jutting jaw and horned head. This was a tall and handsome man; his skin was akin to alabaster and his eyes like a dark void.

His lower half was clad in black leather, a looped belt circled his waist and an ebony buckle engraved like a dark sun joined the two halves. Akas wore dark boots and over his upper half he chose a pitch-black voluminous sleeved robe that left his muscled and pale chest bare.

The soulless void-like eyes were framed in an elegant face cut along the lines of a male Kelanari, he even chose the pointed ears of their kind for this new look. Lastly a mane of slightly curled black hair tumbled down from the crown of his head completing the transformation.

The lady Varsil was hooked in an instant, Akas’ ploy worked perfectly and she couldn’t help but lick her lips one final time.

“My king…” She breathed and made sure that the demon could see her chest rise and fall in that sheer silken garment.

Such an obvious show of her ample endowments did nothing to stir the demon king but he now sat back and smiled, it was still the smile of a monster but instead of terror and fear it inspired more in the lady Varsil – a hot-blooded desire to have him and hold onto him till the world unravelled.

He could sense this and his smile widened, he might have been the lord of Madness and Despair but the wily Demon king knew when to play the part of the noble and seductive ruler. The thought of the sheer sense of loss that Varsil would feel when she failed in her endeavours would be enough to feed him for an eternity.

“Your offer still stands king Akas?” She questioned breaking through the Demon king’s reverie; she had moved a little closer and now stood only a step away from him.

“If you can light a fire in this cold heart,” he repeated and let the last word hang as if it were a perfect tapestry. “Then I will make you my Queen.”

Varsil’s mind already attempted to fathom this particular tactic, perhaps the king was tired of all his years of loneliness and needed a companion? She pushed that thought aside, Akas wasn’t weak and he certainly wasn’t the kind of creature to need support. Was it a game then? If it was she could play since even the slimmest chance of winning would set her above them all, with the Demon king by her side.

The power was a prize and so was the prestige associated with being the queen next to Akas. She would have normally thought on such a matter quite deeply before she even attempted to aim for such a lofty place, but the king had given her his blessing – the offer was like a powerful drug, the more she thought upon it, the more it drew her into its dark embrace.

“And I can use all of my powers, tricks and charms?” One more question came to the forefront of her thoughts and she voiced it bluntly.

“Yes.”

“I am allowed to pursue other dalliances and keep to my own plans regarding mortals?” She ran a slender finger over the dark leather of the king’s knee before she stood once more before him.

“Yes,” he replied once again and gave her a long slow smile. “But you are not allowed to pursue any other Demon save for me, if this is not acceptable then we shall consider the game forfeit and you will have automatically lost.”

She bit her lip for a moment and then gave a single nod.

“You have my word upon the Shaper himself.” Varsil said and knelt before the dark king, already lost in the fathomless depths of his void-shrouded eyes.

It was fitting she would swear upon a mad god especially the one that provided so much of his power. Akas gave a pleased chuckle and gestured to the woman before him. “Then I suggest you hold nothing back in your pursuit of me, for I am unlike any man or Demon you have ever dallied with.”

“I can see that,” she breathed once more and was quite taken aback by the majesty and power before her. “You are a most unique being indeed. I think…I am going to enjoy trying to rouse you.”

Akas’ laughter bit into the air like a thousand screaming souls and he threw his head back to look up at the cavernous roof above him. She would have to work much harder than that, if she could crack his black heart at all. Meanwhile his mind drew him back to the mortal world and the fate of his minion, already manifest and searching for allies.

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Four: The Wolf in the Man

Far from the machinations of the Demon world Shade and Amber had quickly caught up with the fleeing wolf-creature and rather than attempt to reason with Adam in this state they hung behind him as he wound his way towards the Talons, still far distant and grey as the sky returned to normal.

He did not seem to try and lose them as he fled towards the mountains, sometimes Amber swore he turned his head back to see if they were still following. She also swore that she could make out an amused grin etched into the creature’s muzzle.

Rain and shine came and went as their journey continued onwards, Adam seemed as though he was being drawn towards this distant place for a reason, and it had gone beyond the flight reflex that had driven him to escape the butchers of Crow’s Foot.

Amber and Shade pursued the lord for three full days as the sky tinted overhead and the first smells of an early summer began to fill the land, the attack had happened upon the cusp of the season’s turn and would hit Vikart’s farming community hard since the village provided a good half of the wheat and grain to local mills and bakers.

Finally at the end of the third day when the sun burned low on the horizon and dipped behind the skyline, to cast a sheet of red over the clouds. Adam slowed his pace and reached the foothills of the Talon’s where he turned sharply on all fours and made as much speed as he could up the rocky incline.

Shade followed his master’s path without breaking a sweat and slowly cantered along with the watchful Amber on his back, their journey had passed in silence with very little sleep for the exhausted Kelan.

Now at the end of it she rocked upwards on the horses’ back and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes. “What is he doing?”

He has taken the foothills. I really have no idea lady Amber, but it is best to let him run the beast to ground.

“What does that mean?”

I am a servant of the Anshada; do you know what they are?

Amber leaned down to whisper into the horses’ ear and said quietly. “No…but I think you’re about to tell me?”

Shade’s mental voice took on the tint of humour for a moment before it vanished as the mage-blooded creature clopped up a stone pathway near the side of the first big peak; it wound further into the foothills and revealed a cleft in the grey surface.

The Anshada are those that traffic with the Shaper and his Demons.

“I thought the Shaper was the force that made Hestonia?” Amber gripped Shade’s neck tighter as the horse continued to follow the incline and path, before he stopped right at the cleft’s dark entry.

Yes…the Shaper made our world but he also gave rise to the Demons in a fit of madness, it is a long and twisted story. Soon you will learn it, but for now you must learn of Adam’s tale.

“Well…only if you’re not going to earn any kind of reprimand for telling it,” she gave Shade an affectionate pat on his neck and then whispered. “Go on then?”

Quite…Lord Adam is a man who was born of an ancient bloodline; his mother is a Hestonian, one of the first to be exact. The countess Arabella, she’s a wonderfully charming and decedent creature – as most Hestonians are.

Amber sat and listened to this with her mind whirling with question after question, her eyes grew wider as the mage-blooded creature continued to tell Adam’s story.

Most Human kind on this world claim to be Hestonian, but they’re not…they are actually drawn from the three great tribes: The Scandish, Imperior and Nubian to be precise. Adam is an Imperior by his birthplace but also part Hestonian. His mother dallied with a young Imperior noble and well, things happened as they always do.

Shade’s mind voice had the edge of exasperation about it for a moment but he cast a warm gaze towards the dark entry in the mountain.

The Hestonians are the true rulers and inheritors of Hestonia; it is from them that the Shaper named our world. They are part Demon, part something else and have tremendous powers – fortunately for the rest of the world they do prefer to keep out of fame’s light, keeping themselves to themselves.

“This is all hard to take in, but is Adam alright?” Amber followed Shade’s gaze to the cave, looking back and down at the magnificent animal.

I suspect so. He’s run the beast to ground and they’ll both sleep for a little while. Which is the perfect time for us to speak, and now if you will? I’d like to carry on with Adam’s tale.

Shade took on an imperious tone in Amber’s mind but she could sense this was mostly play and it amused her slightly.

“I am sorry Master sage, please go on.”

Master sage? Oh that’s rich…While the Hestonians don’t meddle often in the affairs of lesser beings, like you…no offence meant of course…

“None taken,” she laughed a little and gave Shade another slight pat.

They are known to take an interest in certain things. Arabella is one of those women that cannot help but put her fingers into every pie she can find. Adam is every inch her son in that respect, he’s a meddlesome beast.

“There’s naught wrong with meddlesome,” Amber chuckled.

Shade craned his neck and shook it a couple of times letting out a low snort-whinny of reply.

In that you are Adam’s mirror it seems.

“Both as stubborn, I’d wager?”

I would rather leave that conversation for another time

“As you wish,” the Kelan woman grinned a little and stroked the horses’ neck softly. “I thank you for confiding in me.”

Shade’s ears flickered softly at the compliment and he gave another whinny, this time it was a pleased sound.

You are welcome. Now let me continue my tale of the Hestonians.

There was the truest hint of pride in the horses whispering contact that produced a strange purple tint in Amber’s mind

When the Old Gods withdrew and decided to sit upon the sidelines at Akas’ birth…you of course might not know this, so just listen for now. The Hestonians were less than pleased to see the great seals broken and the Demons free – they were useful behind the door as Hestonian and Anshada alike could plunder their power.

Now they are back upon our world things are a little more complicated for both of those factions. A circle of Hestonians gathered in secret and began to work upon forging new powers to tame the Old Gods…one such deity is known as Karnate.

The head of the Circle was none other than the countess Arabella and for her work in providing this new delightful Goddess with form and function, Karnate became Adam’s benefactor…she gifted him with her blessing.

Amber began to pace a little as Shade’s voice filtered into her mind; she stopped as the stallion mentioned Arabella and whistled. “That takes some kind of power. I know I am no trafficker in Demons and such things, but still.”

There is far more to the story than I have told but that is enough for now. Simply put, Adam is a child of Karnate and Arabella…you will sense the animal about him and the Goddess’ nature that drives him. You will be attracted to it, even though you might hate Adam deep in your heart.

“Well I don’t hate Adam,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what to think of him, but I am starting to think that there are external forces at work here.”

She is a carnal creature and craves all things that are found in the blood. Be it passion and sex or violence and anger. The Karnate gave Adam his choice at the massacre of Crow’s Foot, she came to him and opened her final gift – the creature you saw him become is the purest form of her children.

You are a Kelanari knife fighter and know full well the ways of battle. This is why Adam is drawn to you, you appeal to the man and to the beast. He must settle accounts with his feral nature if he is to survive, of course you will also find that you act in a manner that you are not used to – that is the power that Karnate has given to him, to attract the female of the species.

She chuckled a little at the stallion’s last comment and couldn’t help but add. “Well…it works.”

You may be the one to tame both the man and the wolf within, but that’s a choice you are going to have to make upon your own. Know that the path to Adam’s heart is fraught with the danger of loving such a creature as he – but I have a feeling that you are one for dangerous challenges.

She gaped a little at Shade and turned away for a moment. “I don’t know about loving him. He is attractive and powerful, those are always a good combination…but I don’t know if my heart is ready to be bound in chains to another.”

As I said…it is a choice that you will have to make.

“I have no idea.”

That’s how it always begins.

“Shade,” she sighed and put her arms around the stallion’s neck. “A word of advice, don’t try and play matchmaker.”

Me? Why the merest thought of such a course of action had not crossed my Equine mind.


“I can feel you’re scheming in the back of my head,” she smirked a little and moved towards the cave entry. “I think I’ll go and see how our ragged lord is, you’ll be fine out here?”

Well…I am not going in there if that’s what you think.

Amber took one look at the dark sky and then slipped into the cleft between the rocks, her nimble frame allowed her easy access and she stopped to listen once inside the small cave. The sound of Adam’s rhythmic breathing perked her ears and she felt her way along one of the walls towards where she thought the lord might be.

As she moved through the darkness the sound of the man’s heavy breathing became closer and closer until her boot nudged something, she put her hand down expecting to find fur…she found skin and quickly her fingers recoiled.

Adam didn’t rouse though he was locked in a deep sleep where he replayed the massacre of Crow’s Foot from an outside viewpoint, seeing for the first time the creature he’d become and witnessing the Karnate’s rage and anger flowing through him.

Amber set herself down by the side of Adam’s shape and curled her arms about her knees for a moment. There was a strange attraction, heady in the air and Shade’s warning filtered into the back of her brain. Oddly enough she ignored it and convinced herself all she was doing was keeping him warm, she curled around Adam and closed her eyes.

That is definitely how it begins…

The horse stood outside the cave entrance and stared up at the sky as time snuck onwards to creep past like a stealthy thief in the night. The clouds stole most of the stars putting them into their fluffy packs and scudding onwards until the crest of the first glowing golden rays of sunlight dared to rise and burn away the darkness.

A sliver of light crept into the small cave and slowly traced a methodical path across the floor marking the hours. Shade remained as resolute as ever standing away from the soft breeze of the wind, it tugged at his mane for a moment and then let go to howl quietly down a ravine.

Amber was dimly aware of a hand draped over her followed by an arm. She was lying next to the naked shape of Adam and it took her a few moments to register where she’d lain her head, she quickly moved it and sat bolt upright.

A few rapid blinks later and she snapped the sleep from her eyes, the rocky surface upon which she was perched did little to soothe aching muscles and tired bones. She found herself wishing for a nice hot deep bath and stood up, taking a breath of fresh air from the mountain’s chill wind.

Adam in his dreams was totally unaware of the woman standing there within the cave; he was chasing Fenaric through the forest and making the General pay for his transgressions. He was a bloody swathe of retribution hacking through Fenaric’s men like kindling until he brought the general down and ripped into his throat.

Adam Wolfe awoke with a low triumphant growl and his eyes flew open, they were coloured amber and in their deep depths now lurked the feral mirror of Karnate’s wolfish gift.

Amber turned to the sound and knelt down in the shaft of light. “Are you alright Adam?”

One hand rose to rub across his face and then he felt the sharpness of the rocks and stones beneath his naked body, the chill of the cave upon his skin caused goosebumps to rise all over him and he shivered a little.

“I was dreaming.” He replied to her question and touched a small signet ring upon his finger with his thumb, rubbing it just once.

Amber watched his action and gave a slight smile. “Dreaming? What were you dreaming about?”

Adam shook his head to clear it and took a long slow breath before he stood up, unashamed of his current lack of attire. “Running that bastard Fenaric to ground and making him pay for Crow’s Foot!”

She nodded in assent to this statement and gave another smile, a rueful one. Amber then ventured softly. “How much do you remember?”

“All of it, the thrill of battle, the slaking blood…her face and her red hair…like a fire in my mind and body,” he took a couple more deep breaths and closed his eyes. “It was a release unlike any other.”

Amber took a cautious step towards the lord and offered her hand. “I think you need to calm down. You are the one in control lord Adam not the animal, the beast inside and not the Karnate.”

Adam took it and it seemed to provide some kind of grounding. Slowly he began to regain the sense of the man he was and looked down at himself. “It seems that I shall have to provide myself with some clothing.”

“Unless you want to walk all the way to where you’re going flashing everything you have to the world at large,” Amber chuckled and added with a ribald smile. “I wouldn’t complain, many ladies wouldn’t…It might make a few men jealous too…but it’ll be cold.”

This made Adam smile again and he let go of the Kelan’s hand. “If you’ll stand back then I shall see about conjuring up a suitable set of clothes.”

“Conjuring?” Amber tilted her head slightly and fixed Adam with a narrow gaze. “You’re not one of the Anshada are you?”

“Not really. My mother taught me a little, simple tricks…nothing that could compare to her power or those of her Circle.” He replied in a conversational kind of way while trying to call to mind the correct formulae and symbols to bend the weave of the world to his will.

Upon watching Adam’s concentration Amber took a couple of steps back until she was close to the cave entry, just in case things went wrong. She’d heard tales of conjurers suffering terrible backlash even when attempting to master a simple cleaning tapestry.

Adam brought to mind the first few threads of the weave and forced them upon a mental loom to form a tapestry; in this tapestry he bound the colours of creation and form until they were threads of silver and gold. He saw in his mind’s eye the shimmering nature of a new garment locked within the pattern and began to slowly imbue it with the flow of energy he felt spring up from a distant place.

Slow and steady breaths followed until the young lord was firmly convinced he had fixed the pattern correctly. He took a single red coloured thread in his mind’s grip and tugged on it a couple of times, he felt the rush of power and the whole image flared into impossible colours and fell away into a sudden onrush of shadow.

Amber saw the sudden appearance of inky-black threads weave their way over the naked muscled form of Adam and cover him from head to foot in new attire. He now wore exactly the same clothes as she remembered him dressed in from the Crow’s Foot tavern.

“Impressive.”

“It was,” Adam wiped a slight amount of sweat from his forehead, his heart was running like a thousand horses and his vision swam for a moment. He managed to avoid the pull on his soul from the dark Demon world where the Shaper made his lair and all power of the weave flowed.

Amber caught the slight bead of sweat and walked back over to him concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he smiled a little and tapped her on the nose with his finger. “It was a simple tapestry to perform, one of the easiest to be honest…although I am going to have to invest in some form of trinket to store my clothing in, should I suffer another bout of Karnate’s wrath.” Adam chuckled a little and adjusted his coat, pulling at his boots slightly.

“Ok.” She appeared satisfied and turned to look outside again then back to the lord. “So what do we do now? Do you think that bastard will come after us?”

Adam shrugged and then shook his head pulling his dark hair into a plait and clipping it into place. “Fenaric won’t be concerned with us now. He’ll be looking for more helpless souls to add to his master’s stockpile.”

“Fenaric? So that’s the name of the butcher?” Amber spat in venomous tones and folded her arms across her chest. “Who is his master?”

“A Demon Lord,” Adam’s reply was a soft one and he moved to stand by the side of the Kelan woman. “Rhage…they call him the warmonger; he’s only concerned with glorious battle and slaughter.”

“Why does Fenaric serve him?”

“Ah…that’s a complicated question…but one that’s best answered by knowing the nature of such an ambitious warlord.” Adam cracked the slightest of smiles and put his hand on Amber’s shoulder.

She looked down at it and then to him and saw the golden gleam of his eyes, they were firmly now marked as Karnate’s own having the look of a wolf about them. She caught herself staring and smoothed her hair back letting the red waterfall billow about her shoulders.

“Fenaric lives to serve Rhage hoping that one day the demon will make him into one of them,” he caught the Kelan’s stare and held her gaze for a long time. “A foolish hope since Rhage would rather crush mortals beneath his boot than make them into demons. Still, the man does not stop trying – it is rumoured that the warmonger was once mortal – but you know rumour.”

“All too well,” Amber gave a tiny snort and put her hand onto Adam’s for a moment. “Rumour is that we Kelan prefer trees to men, a good thick branch or a sturdy deep knothole for the men. That’s why we are known as treefers.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment and she sighed.

Adam gave her hand a companionable pat followed by a little more bolder stroke. “I had always wondered where the name came from. I cannot say that I am truly surprised at its origins considering the minds of men are things found wandering below the beltline most times.”

[Witcher Wolf]

The longer touch sent tiny sparks up and down Amber’s spine and she quickly tucked her hand away into a safe pocket. “You’re harsh but you’re also right.”

“I usually am,” he laughed and little and cricked his neck. “The bed was rather hard this night. I have a hole as large as a demon pit where my stomach should be and we’ve got a lot of ground yet to cover.”

Amber’s stomach growled as if on cue and she looked down at it with a bemused expression. “Between the escape from Crow’s Foot and the whole last few days I have only barely nibbled on trail rations.”

Adam moved towards the light and blinked a couple of times as he paused with one hand on the cold rock. “There’s a small mining settlement not too far off from where we are, ever hear of it?”

“No?”

“Vess…Not the best place to make a stop but they’re bound to have some food and drink there…do you think you can handle a few hours travel?”

She felt her stomach growl again and like a persistent beast it started to roll, a slow steady sweep of nausea crept over her but she nodded. “If we left now I think I might be able to survive till at least midday.”

“Then we’ll not dally at all.” Adam stepped out into the bright early morning light and wrapped his coat about him. Amber followed and rubbed her hands together, while the sun was still trying to warm the land the cold mountain wind bit through in a ravenous hungry breath.

“Hells! It’s cold!” She muttered and looked towards where the mage-blooded horse stood resolutely watching them both.

I had wondered when you two might deign to show your faces and lead us upon some merry quest or adventure. I do hope you have decided that we need to move on, as much as I adore the mountains, the idea of becoming a perch for errant birds of prey does not fill me overly much with a rampant sense of joy.

“And a good morning to you as well…Shade.” Adam went to his horse and leapt onto the animal’s back, he looked down at Amber who still stood shivering in the cold air.

“Coming?”

She walked over and took his hand allowing him to heft her up onto Shade’s back; she made herself as comfortable as possible and then took a deep breath. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so chill.”

This is why the wise ones called these peaks The Talons, not just because they happen to look like claws against the sky.

Shade chuckled a little and set off back down the small rocky sloped path being as careful as he could; his hooves danced over the stones and kicked small ones over the edge of the nearby ravine.

Amber watched the tiny rocks tumble into the blackness beyond and withdrew her curious gaze holding even more tightly onto Adam and Shade.

“Make for Vess,” he leaned down and whispered into Shade’s ear and then held his head back draping his pony-tail over one shoulder. “We’ll be eating some reasonable food soon Amber, worry not.”

She gave a thankful smile and looked ahead rather than down until the horse had made his way back onto the actual path that lead further into the mountains. Shade stopped for a moment tossed his own head and then began to canter, and then gallop up the pathway sending dust and stone flying as he did so.

The rest of the journey through the valley of stone high-peaked mountains went by for her and Adam in the blink of an eye. The mage-blooded horse could cover vast distances with complete disregard for terrain and surface conditions, through harsh winds, storms and snow.

Adam was thankful for his mother’s gift and watched the landscape turn into a flickering blur as his mount thundered on past. He couldn’t help thinking of Amber’s fate should she have not met him and his stallion, she would have probably wandered into Crow’s Foot just after the massacre and found the village as nothing but a smoking ruin.

Just as a note, this concludes pages 1-100 of the novel. As they are formatted in the document they would equate to exactly 100 pages in the book itself.

[Witcher Wolf]

He frowned a little at this thought and wrapped his arms about the Kelan woman’s waist, he whispered into her ear in a reassuring manner.

“It is good that we met.”

Amber tilted her head slightly and laughed. “Well you made my life more interesting.”

Shade thundered over the rocky terrain until he came to a track at the back of the mountain pass, he slowed to a canter and then trotted into the small mining settlement. Immediately that such a magnificent creature entered, the workers there stopped and looked at the horse and his passengers.

“Can we help you?” The mine foreman was a tall lanky man with a shock of bright ginger hair; his bloodshot slightly yellowed eyes spoke volumes about the conditions at Vess.

“My companion and I require a little food and water.” Adam said and dropped down from Shade’s back; he patted the horse and helped Amber down. She alighted on the floor next to him.

He looked them both over and waved a grubby hand towards a low squat building. “It’s not good to travel on an empty stomach…there’s not much, but what we do have you’re willing to share; all we ask are a few ikons for the time and effort.”

Amber gave the man a thankful smile and moved quickly towards the low building, she vanished within it leaving Adam to follow.

He looked to the foreman and passed a few golden ikons to him before he followed in Amber’s wake and pushed open the heavy wooden door. She was already inside and seated at one of the miner’s many tables, it looked as if this room was set aside for meetings and meals.

As Adam joined her at the table he ducked his head and pulled a stool out. “Not the best but it’ll certainly do.”

“It has food. I don’t care about anything else right now.” She was famished and her growling stomach pointed this out by letting them both know with a low rumble.

Adam laughed a little and he lay one hand on the tabletop watching Amber now with a curious gaze, she caught this and quirked a brow.

“I don’t really know what to say,” he spoke quietly and suddenly. “For the first time in my life I am utterly speechless…something must be wrong.”

Amber’s lips turned upwards into a small smile but her reply was cut off as one of the miners wandered in and put down a tray. On it were two steaming bowls of stew and two large hunks of bread, the thoughtful miners had also provided two cups of mountain water.

She looked to him and then to the bowl quickly falling on the food in ravenous hunger. He remained quiet as he ate and let his friend devour the food she obviously needed so badly.

He ate in silence and kept a wary eye on the rest of the mine through the windows, Adam was not exactly the most trusting soul and Amber would make a good prize for the right slaver should the workers have the right connections.

“You’re somewhere else aren’t you?” She said between mouthfuls breaking the awkward silence.

“Just watchful,” he sniffed the air and put the last hunk of bread into his mouth chewing thoroughly before he gave a pleased sigh. “I sense no harm from these people but it pays to be careful.” He dropped his voice into a lower octave and whispered across the table.

“Watchful is good,” she flashed him a bright white smile and finished off her stew in a few more mouthfuls.

“I try my best.”

Finally she sat back and sighed softly satisfied at last, she looked him over and gave a winsome little grin in his direction. “You can’t figure me out?”

“No,” he was not ready to admit defeat yet but he decided to speak the truth. “Any more than you can really do the same regarding me.”

She laughed a little again and slid her bowl towards the tray putting her spoon into it with a clink. “Now we’re both well fed what do you suggest?”

“Jakarta Port and from there we find a ship to take us to Wyrden,” Adam watched the miners for a while longer looking slightly skittish. “It’s the only city I can think of that isn’t in any danger from Fenaric and his lackeys.”

“Right...”

“Or do you have somewhere else you’d rather go?” He chuckled a little. “After all I can’t force you to travel with me. I am hoping that you’re enjoying my company?”

“I would not have come this far if I did not like the person I have been travelling with, although I have to admit I am fond of Shade as well,” she teased with a soft half-smile. “But seriously Adam you’re fine and I want to do something to prevent another Crow’s Foot.”

Adam knew it would come back to this and to be truthful part of him wanted to just forget it. There was the glimmer-spark of a heroic nature about the man that wouldn’t quit and he wasn’t the best person to cast in the role of saviour – yet these things often fell on the most unusual shoulders.

He remained silent for a while before he nodded his assent and added rising from his stool. “Then we had best put Vess to our backs and ride like the wind to Jakarta Port…there’s only one place we can find out more, Wyrden…as I said before.”

“You speak that name as though it has more importance than just a city?” Amber followed suit and stood from the table looking out to the mine courtyard. “Does it?”

“Wyrden is a city of many things but importance isn’t one of them, there are people there that traffic in the kind of darkness we’re going to need.” Adam Wolfe left the conversation there and just walked towards the door, opened it and stepped outside into the cold air.

She wasn’t long behind him and found the young lord preparing Shade for the next leg of their journey. He stroked a small ebony handled comb over the creature’s long mane and whispered softly to the beast.

“Is there something wrong with Wyrden?” Amber stepped up to Adam’s side and put a hand on Shade’s sleek coat. “I do not really know much of across the sea. I was fairly sheltered in the schools.”

“The government…” Adam began with a half laugh and turned so he could see Amber properly. “They will tell you that Wyrden is a villain’s hive and the worst scum congregate there – they’re not wrong but it’s also something else, you’ll see when we arrive.”

Amber’s curiosity had been perked now and she bit down on any more questions for now, stroking Shade’s back a little and eager to be off.

A sweeping wind picked up and caused one of the weather-vanes to whir with a soft clatter of sound, she looked at it and frowned a little pulling her jacket closed – she snapped the fastenings together and pulled her hair into a long tail, quickly plaiting the whole red mass.

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Five: On a Wing and a Prayer

It was noon on the third day of travel across the eastern plains where Shade carried Amber and Adam closer to the bustling port of Jakarta. It sat against the rocky backdrop of the skyline with a smaller range of dramatic coastal cliffs to the south east; laying at least six days east from the Talons it would have been a rougher journey if it were not for Adam’s horse.

The sun was burning brightly in a clear blue sky and birds flew in rapid patterns from cover to cover from the tallest towers as the mage-blooded horse drew level with the main gate.

Jakarta was quite a sight and one tower dominated the horizon with a plethora of small wooden and bronze platforms, gangways and colourful ribbon-like ropes. Shade stopped and both of his passengers were afforded the view of a dark shadow as it blotted out the sun.

It looked like a massive man-made wooden and steel vessel with the sweeping lines of a majestic soaring eagle or falcon. It was coloured in burnished gold and black and fitted with a single crystalline ‘V’ at the front through which, as it passed, could be seen humanoid figures.

Adam craned his head and smiled a little, there were only a few sky-ships that matched the look of that one, which meant that he and Amber would be in luck finding passage to Wyrden. He couldn’t help but broaden that smile as the giant vessel soared overhead, kept in the sky by a combination of science and magic.

Amber on the other hand almost froze on the back of Adam’s horse; she looked up with wide wild eyes at the impossible ship above her as it made a lazy arc towards one of the longer bronze platforms, neatly sliding into place with a soft gentle swish of motion.

“What is it?”

“That would be the Mist Reaver,” Adam grinned widely as he watched the vessel come to a complete stop. “We are in luck Amber. I know the Captain of that ship and he should be able to take us to Wyrden.” He sounded as excited as a schoolboy and spurred Shade on through the gates of Jakarta.

“I’ll take your word for it.” The Kelan people were known to be isolationist and their cities bordered upon the paranoid, some of them had closed their gates to non-Kelan years before Akas broke free. Amber came from the knife-fighting school of Master Rho and her upbringing was even more hermit-like than the rest of her folk.

“You don’t sound convinced?” He said as Shade trotted proudly through the streets of the port passing under ribbon festooned overhangs with their colourful market trader stalls to either side.

“My studies did not leave much time for other things, especially things like that ship,” she shook her head and tiny frown lines appeared around her lips. “A ship floats on water and does not sail the sky.”

Three more galleon style vessels chose this moment to pass overhead as they wound their way towards the massive tower; Amber gave them a distasteful look and set her gaze on something other than the busy sky.

“That ship is one of the best and it’s probably the most unique vessel in all of Hestonia,” Adam explained and gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “I think you’ll agree it’s better than being tossed upon all that water in one of the seas fickle storms.

She pouted and tried to find a point to argue upon but the simple logic of that statement forced her to agree, albeit grudgingly. “I suppose you’re right.”

Shade’s hooves clopped in several sharp taps as Adam brought him to a halt before the giant sky-ship tower. He looked up at the sleek bird of prey style vessel and suppressed another wicked grin.

Amber decided to get down and she slid to the ground grateful to be able to stretch her legs, she rubbed her arms a couple of times and the sensation of pins and needles shot through her as the feeling returned.

“I really did not expect to see another Kelan here.” The speakers voice was pure and clean like an elegantly cut crystal. It belonged to a tall green-eyed Kelan male who stood over six feet and carried himself with some importance, his attire was that of a typical swashbuckler or pirate complete with an overly large black floppy wide-brimmed hat from which danced a scarlet feather.

He wore a ruffled white shirt and dark burgundy trousers that tucked into ostentatious turn-top highwayman’s style boots, again as black as his hat. Over the shirt and trousers he sported a red flowing buccaneer’s split long coat embroidered with gold thread.

The sleeves of his coat were likewise embroidered with the same thread and had a diamond set into each cuff, it was obvious that this Kelan had spent a long time cultivating this particular look.

He had the typical angular features of the Kelanari and from under the hat a mane of slightly curly black tumble-down hair flowed just past his shoulders, hiding a single diamond studded earring in his left lobe.

He had solved the problem of pointed ears and headgear by cutting two slits into his hat from which the tips of his ears poked out. He turned and gave Amber a low sweeping bow, removing his hat and replacing it in one smooth motion.

“Captain Talon Mane,” he said. “Of the good ship the Mist Reaver, at your service – and who might you be?”

Amber being unused to such manners floundered for a moment before she cast a side-long look at Adam Wolfe, who for his part sat on the back of Shade and grinned as if he’d been reunited with a long lost brother.

“Amber Savarre.” She admitted and moved back towards Adam’s horse, the animal bunted her in the back and she looked sharply at him.

“It is nice to see that Talon Mane has lost none of his appreciation for all things that are fine in life,” Adam spoke up from his perch and gave the Kelan man a swift grin. “It’s good to see you my friend!”

“Blow me down with a gusty squall! As I live…love…lust and breathe Adam Wolfe!” Talon’s own grin rose to match the other man’s and he laughed softly. “What in all of the hells and heavens brings you to Jakarta…not this young lovely surely?”

Amber looked from one to the other and then narrowed her eyes with another frown, she couldn’t quite believe the highly outspoken obvious Kelan male, usually her people were quiet and reserved – she concluded in her own head that this one must have been raised by humans – perhaps an Imperior nobleman or some such.

“A...young…lovely,” she said slowly with each word sounding like it was formed from a block of ice.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Indeed so my lady…I have seen fairer I shall grant you but you are by no means plain and simple lass,” Talon beamed one of usual gleaming smiles and adjusted his hat taking great pains to make sure the feather was in the right place. “And if you are with young Adam there you must have superior qualities to most of the women I’ve ever seen him with?”

Adam gave Talon a long-suffering look and then got down from Shade’s back standing by Amber in the hope of reassuring her.

“What?” She snorted. “You talk with more flowers than the women on that market stall…speak plainly man!”

“That would not be in my nature good lady for if I were to speak plainly then all would know what I truly mean,” he gave another quirky grin and bowed again. “She has fire this one.”

“Tell me of it,” Adam chuckled and locked his eyes to Amber’s gaze. His expression betrayed nothing but a deep respect for the woman. “I wouldn’t have it any other way…she and I have fought side by side and you can trust to her skill with a knife my friend.”

Talon clapped his hands together and tipped his hat forwards to bob the feather again. “Then that’s good enough for me. Any companion of Lord Adam Wolfe is a friend of mine!” He outstretched his hand and left it there, his many silver rings gleaming in the sun.

She looked upon it as if it were a striking snake and then gingerly shook Talon’s hand. “I am not used to such things.” It was about the best that Talon would get as an apology and he knew it.

“So what brings you and the Reaver to Jakarta then?” Adam looked upwards to view the underside of Talon’s docked vessel. “She still gives me the chills every time I see her…which is no doubt why you designed the ship that way eh?”

Captain Talon Mane preened a little and gave a bobbing nod. “Aye Adam, she’s designed to be unique and stand out – I want people to know the ship by look and action, she’s got a fine crew and you should meet my first mate.” He cast a glance behind him to the interior of the sky-ship tower.

“First mate eh?” The wily Wolfe gave a singular eyebrow raise at the intonation of the words, chuckling to himself, “he a good man?”

“She,” the voice was enough to cut down to the bone and chill even Adam’s spine and it belonged to a very tall Kelan woman. Her eyes were dark blue and appeared like whirlpools to capture and drown the onlooker’s soul, a long flowing wild mass of snow-white downy hair drifted like a blizzard down past her backside.

A single twined plait of her hair dangled past her right pointed ear and reached to tap against a semi-curved silver earring, shaped like a claw. Around her throat curled a pendant shaped like a dagger again made from silver. She wore an open necked white blouse that left her shoulders bare and showed off her deathly pale skin.

Over this was a black and grey waistcoat of velvet laced at the sides, the blouse and waistcoat ended a few inches below her breasts to expose a tattoo of two black roses twined around her belly button.

She stalked towards them all and her long legs moved smoothly in black leather leggings, laced and buckled up both sides. Around her waist and casually hanging down over her hips were two slender belts of silver-grey leather. Finally she wore metal plated ornate thigh-high black boots that sported a couple of sharp looking daggers in each top.

As she reached the small group she stopped and folded her arms appraising both Adam and Amber with those dark eyes.

She turned and nodded to Talon and then unfolded her arms revealing ornate arm bracers set with a single black obsidian stone, before anyone could say anything she spoke again in the same dark velvet husk.

“Silver and I am the First Mate of the Mist Reaver. You must be Adam Wolfe but I cannot for the life of me think who you might be,” Her gaze turned towards Amber and she gave the woman a half-smile.

Amber almost bristled at being spoken to like so but she held her fire-forged response in check and replied with a straight quiet tone. “Amber Savarre, Silver. I am honoured to meet the First Mate of the Mist Reaver.”

The other woman nodded to this and the smile appeared a little more genuine now, she cast another glance to Talon and then spoke into his ear. “We have about three hours to kill before we can leave again, what are your orders?”

Talon watched the interchange dimly aware that he’d stopped breathing for a moment, what ever fate had brought these two hellcats together must now be sitting back with a large ale and laughing heartily at him, at least this is what he thought.

That thought was also mirrored by Adam Wolfe who seemed to flinch when both Kelan females spoke to each other, he had been expecting claws since both of them appeared to be strong willed and were certainly not inclined towards friendliness.

“I am,” Adam ventured in Silver’s direction and cast a quick glance at the slightly smouldering Amber. “I hope that all the stories the Captain has been telling you about me have been the best ones?”

There was a moment of silence before Silver laughed softly and shed her icy demeanour for a moment. “He said you were a character…I can’t yet see what he means but I am sure with time you’ll have ample opportunity to showcase that.”

Adam flicked a finger against his long coat and looked irked for a few seconds, it quickly passed and he fixed Talon with a level gaze.

The Captain could feel the heat from both the lord and his lady companion, he smiled briskly and intoned. “Claws dear Silver, one must not upset the good friends of Captain Talon Mane.”

“Were they out?” She looked at her long white nails and inspected them in a bored manner. “So sorry, shall I go away?”

“No,” Talon grinned almost boyishly. “Not at all…it keeps things interesting and the banter is quite fine. Seriously however, Adam is an old friend of mine and anyone with him should be accorded the same respect as me.”

Silver blinked and gave a grudging nod to her Captain before falling silent once more and studying everything, from the people to the passers by in the street.

“It is fine Talon really,” Adam chuckled a little more. “I am not in the least bit insulted.” He lied and looked again at the prim and proper Silver. “You have a sharp First Mate, which is good to see…your last, was.”

Talon cut him off and nodded grimly. “Less than satisfactory I know…funny story involving that…it’s how I hired Silver.”

Amber kept studying Silver while Talon spoke, she was trying to spot various weapons hidden about the woman’s person and she smiled a little when she recognised the one hidden mark of a fellow knife-fighter.

It was hidden on the pendant around her neck and only Master Rho’s school carried such things, she left Adam’s side and walked over to Silver offering the woman her hand with fingers outstretched.

Silver looked down sharply and relaxed when she saw there wasn’t a hidden agenda to the other woman’s motion, she quirked a slim brow and spoke quietly. “What is it Kelan sister, trying to make friends?”

“Will you do me the honour of a warrior’s handshake Master Silver?” Amber spoke in deference after recognising the mark of a practitioner of her craft.

“Master is it now?” Silver questioned with another quirk of her brow, a thin-lipped smile dancing.

Adam and Talon watched this interchange, Talon’s story forgotten for now and they exchanged a couple of puzzled if a little worried looks.

Amber tilted her head slightly and just below her neckline she revealed a similar dagger-like pendant, to the untrained eye it appeared as if it were a simple piece of gaudy jewellery – to Silver it suddenly took on a whole new meaning, her demeanour softened slightly.

“That puts a new light upon things.” She replied and took Amber’s hand in hers locking fingers around the other woman’s wrist.

Both women stood like that for a while and it appeared to their respective partners in crime that they were gauging each others strength. Silver was the first to let go loosely and she smiled one last time.

“I am honoured.” She said to Amber and touched her pendant with a finger. “To meet another master of our craft...”

“Did she say Master?” Talon whispered to his friend and his lips twitched into a wry smile. “We’ve missed something along the way old friend, when did they kiss and make up?”

Adam coughed and that drew the attention of both Kelanari women, they turned as one and gave both men amused looks.

“What?” Talon said and tried to act innocent, he even adjusted his hat to a rakish angle. “We were just wondering if we’d missed a little time…first you’re almost at each others throats and now?”

“It is the nature of the Kelanari female.” Amber said and adopted an almost mysterious kind of expression, it also said: don’t attempt to argue, you’re going to lose.

Silver gave a nod and adopted a similar expression, if a casual passer by looked at both women they could have been considered sisters by looks alone. This dug into Adam’s mind and he wondered suddenly if their meeting had been by chance or if fate had rolled the dice and tipped his hat in their direction.

“Ok,” Talon had quite enough of not being the centre of attention and swept his hand towards the port. “Jakarta lies before us like a red-candle girl on a bed of velvet sheets, are we to stand here and simply look or taste the delights before we ship out?”


“I like the sound of that,” Amber gave a throaty chuckle and purred in reply to Talon’s question. “We should perhaps find a place where we can talk a little?”

Adam looked to her and opened his mouth to speak, shutting it again and pondering the sudden change in Amber. He looked to Silver who seemed to be wearing a tiny smirk and swept his long coat about him a little more.

“What does the gallant Lord Adam say?” Silver husked in the lord’s direction spotting his obvious motion. “Do you not find the idea of red-candle girls interesting…or I wonder do you prefer black-candle boys?”

Adam didn’t blink at that but he smiled a broad smile. “I prefer my women not to be girls,” His reply was perfectly phrased and spoken with directness that none bar Talon expected. “As for boys…a light snack…nothing more.”

Talon raised a brow at that and fielded any further banter by walking off into Jakarta’s thronging crowds uttering a brisk. “Follow me!”

Silver stalked off with a swish of her swaying hips sweeping past Adam with a low throaty laugh. “A truly excellent reply my Lord, you win this round.”


Amber for her part thought Adam was going to be truly insulted regarding the black-candle boys comment and bristled a little on his behalf, she reminded herself as she was always wont to do – Kelanari knife-fighters were headstrong bitches.

He shook his head and put both hands into his long coat, resigned to the fact that Silver had a personality like a briar patch. He looked at his companion and then gestured. “Time to follow Talon, before he gets himself in trouble…and then out of it again…”

“Is he always so odd?” She watched both Talon and Silver cut a swathe through the crowded market place, people straying too close soon gave the enigmatic pair enough room to move.

“Talon is…like his ship…rather unique and takes a little getting used to,” Adam began to walk briskly after the Kelanari Captain. “But he’s a dependable rogue.”

“I suppose so,” Amber fell into step to the side of the lord and took a breath or two of the air, tasting salt upon it. “What do you think of Silver?”

“She’s a bitch,” He replied and then added. “I like her, you and her could be sisters only…you’d be the nicest of the pair.”

Amber gave a snorting laugh and added wryly. “Oh Adam you don’t know me that well at all.”

“No I don’t,” he replied and turned to look at her as they walked. “But I would be willing to change all that.”

“We’ll work on that as we go,” she couldn’t be more honest. Fate had thrown them together and they had really no direction but with the arrival of Talon Mane it proved to Amber one thing, the excitement and thrill she’d been looking for were just perilously dangling before her fingers.

He seemed to be willing to accept her answer and hurried to catch Talon and Silver up. Adam let his thoughts wander back to Crow’s Foot and idly contemplated what part he was going to play; he feared the untamed spirit that now lurked behind his eyes. He needed to speak to his mother – but Arabella was on the far distant shore somewhere in Wyrden.

“Now, here’s a question for you all, inside or out?” Talon’s voice broke into his musing and the Kelan Captain stopped suddenly, almost causing Silver to walk into his back, he chuckled and gave her an enigmatic smile.

Silver rolled her eyes and stepped to the side looking around watching the people with a critical eye, someone only had to move out of place and they would find a few inches of steel in their belly.


“What?” Adam shrugged. “It would help Talon if you actually expounded on the question a little more?”

Talon Mane turned full circle in a dramatic gesture and flounced a little. “Adam…Adam…do we find somewhere to sit and drink, inside or out?”

“Oh…”

“Well?” Talon’s feather blew into his face and he snorted a breath to move it out of the way.

“Outside…it’s a lovely day and we should take advantage of it.” Adam replied and looked to the two Kelan women for confirmation.

Silver gave a brief nod and began to walk over to an empty table under the leeward side of a nearby busy inn, she looked down at the single snoozing drunkard there and elbowed him off the stool – dragging him to a close alley and dumping his still sleeping body there.

“Blunt.” Amber said and gave an approving smile.

“He was in my seat,” Silver sat down and put her elbows on the table resting her chin on her cupped hands. “I’ll have a white wine.”

“And for Amber?” As Adam spoke Talon was half-way between inn and table, he stopped once more and put his hands on his hips mock-tapping his foot.

Amber made a quick mental check of her favoured beverages and shot back with a grin. “I think white for me as well.”

“Two whites…and for you Adam Wolfe, blood…virgins…bloody virgins?” Talon adopted his usual rapid grinning manic smile and stepped off out of throwing range.

“I’ll have another white.” Adam snorted in reply and a low growl found its way to the back of his throat.

“Four whites, now that’s a turn up.” Then the Captain stepped smartly towards the door of the inn to vanish within with a sweep of his hat, doffing it to an emerging young noblewoman – who twittered in response.

Silver coughed and Amber thought she might actually be physically sick.

“Are you all right Silver?” Amber questioned while sliding into her own seat opposite Adam.

“That…simpering ‘twittering’ noblewoman,” Silver answered and spat on the ground. “He loves it of course – it panders to his highly developed showman’s ego…but still…it sets a bad example.”

“I doubt he really pays any attention, you know Talon…he plays his part well,” Adam gave the woman a companionable smile and then added. “For what it’s worth I don’t go for the simpering or twittering myself.”

“That would be because you have taste.” Both Silver and Amber shot back in unison and then exchanged a couple of amused glances.

Adam swivelled his head from one to the other and then sat back with a resigned expression on his face. His mind began to wander again and then he spoke up suddenly with a direct question. “Silver, so how did you and Talon meet?”

Silver blew a lock of her hair out of her face with a soft huff and fixed Adam with a long, searching look before she answered. “It is quite a simple story really…Talon’s previous first mate was a bastard who planned to steal the ship, sell it for a tidy profit to the highest bidder…he pulled in some men especially for the job. I heard him talking about it in a tavern and warned Talon.”

Adam nodded as Silver spoke his face shifted as the betrayal was mentioned and he added in a colder tone. “I’d have gutted the bastard and hung the men with his entrails.”

Amber looked askance and nodded in agreement with Adam’s statement looking towards the door to the inn, before glancing back to the table.

“I did,” Silver replied with a nonchalant smile. “So now you know.”

Adam hadn’t expected anything less from the woman, she had all the lines and marks of a killer – it was as if he could sense another predator and wondered if she sensed something about him.

“How did you two hook up?” Silver decided to satisfy her ember of curiosity and put both hands on the table only to stop as a black shadow fell over them all.

Shade, bored with standing outside the sky-ship tower had clopped his way through the market and now stood off to one side of their table, his black tail swished once or twice.

“Is this your horse?” Silver questioned and looked approvingly at the animal. “He’s a magnificent creature.”

Shade flicked one ear and remained mentally silent but exuded a pleased and smug kind of aura at them all.
“That would be Shade,” Adam said and didn’t elaborate upon the woman’s question, he smiled a little towards his faithful steed. “Without whom I would be probably dead a hundred times over…certainly after our last narrow escape.”

“Oh do tell?” Silver looked over the horse again spotting that Shade had no saddle or stirrups. “You must be an accomplished rider to travel with no saddle, or you have an arse of iron.”

Amber burst out laughing at that and earned a reproachful look from Shade, she ducked her head and Adam could still hear her soft chuckles.

“I have an elegant arse thank you,” he replied with a feigned noble’s smile. “Do you know of Crow’s Foot?”

“Yes?” Silver had heard murmurs of the place but it didn’t really interest her.

“It was razed to the ground and destroyed…while we were there…we barely escaped.” Adam watched Silver’s reaction and noted there wasn’t a flicker in the woman’s deep blue eyes.

“Bandit attacks happen,” she sighed and looked for Talon rolling her eyes a little. “Little villages are prone to utter destruction.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but my friend had friends there and this was not a bandit attack,” Adam sighed softly and shook his head. “Normally I wouldn’t really care…but Fenaric lead the assault.”

“The right hand of the Warmonger?” Silver suddenly perked up at this and snapped her gaze back to Adam. “Go on?”

“Little villages that can’t defend themselves are always being destroyed,” Amber said sullenly. “But this was an army of about a thousand heavily armed men; they attacked without mercy and without reason.”

“No rhyme or reason?” Silver tapped a lacquered nail against the table thoughtfully.

“Only in the name of Rhage,” Adam watched Silver’s reaction again and glanced towards the inn door then back. “Fenaric’s filling some kind of quota…the Demon lord has a reason…but I don’t know what it is yet…not sure I really want to find out.”

“Then why get involved?” Silver shrugged her shoulders and smoothed her hair again. “Heroes end up in unmarked graves with flowers and birds aplenty…their gold is no use to them when they’re dead.”

“And a dead world is no use to any of us. We live in an age where Demon lords can do as they please and what can we do about it?” Adam snarled a little and clenched his fingers together. “My blood is being drawn towards this endeavour…the more I pull away from it…the more I am brought in.”

Amber cast a concerned look to the man opposite her and put a hand on his. “Adam what do you mean?”

Silver perked her ears and smirked briefly at the hand touch; she said nothing and watched for Talon’s return.

“Rather than a heroes blood, mine is the blood of Karnate…you learned as much from Shade while I slept no doubt.” He narrowed his wolf-like eyes and clenched his fingers again into his palms, thin lines of blood trickled out.

Silver raised a brow and blew a long low impressed whistle, “the Karnate?”

“Well my blood is that of the Countess Arabella, but my true self walks by the side of the Karnate…yes.” Adam’s heart-rate had gone up a few beats as he thought of the glorious blood-spilling battle; he fought to control the wellspring of dark emotions that suddenly began to overwhelm him.

“And here I thought you were just a simple lord with a heart for adventure,” Silver blew a soft breath out through her teeth and then added. “Amber Savarre you do keep some interesting company – quite a dangerous fellow you travel with.”

“I saw his first change,” Amber shot back and removed her hand from Adam’s. “It was beyond anything I have ever seen.”

“His first change,” Silver’s curiosity peaked even more and the woman pursed her lips. “What is this you speak of?”

Talon Mane chose this moment to come flying out of one of the inn’s windows in a shower of shattered glass and broken wood, his hat followed him and guffawed laughter burst from within.

“It will have to wait,” Silver purred and stood from the table. “It seems Talon’s managed to get himself in trouble, again.”

Adam turned his head sharply around and smelt the blood of his friend as the Kelan’s matted hair was thick with it. “I would say more than trouble.” He growled archly and followed Silver’s stance.

Four glasses of white wine followed Talon out of the inn door and smashed to the ground on the cobbles, people stopped and stared some of them pointed and laughed at the foppish Captain sprawled upon the floor.

[Witcher Wolf]

The slightly dazed Talon Mane managed to get to his feet and shook his head. “A bottle of ale over the head is no way to win friends you fat blubbery Scandish tosspot.” His voice was etched with anger.

The target of the Kelan’s ire was a huge man garbed in the rough clothes of a port guard; he stormed out of the inn in a drunken stupor yelling abuse from his alcohol soaked breath. “Hell’s damned treefers! I should kill the gadspawned lot of you!”

Amber had a knife in her off hand and Silver arrested her motion with a softly spoken barely heard whisper of, “not yet…”

The fellow was bald and tattooed with a colourful collection of various images over most of his skin, he had one missing left eye and the right one had a massive scar that broke a nearly handsome face. He had the typical look of a rough northern male and bellowed again advancing on Talon.

“Ye’re a Bastard child of…a nut and an acorn!”

Talon Mane couldn’t stop the ringing in his ears, he was none to happy with the shouting and his flight through a glass window – his coat was torn in several places and the Kelan snapped up his blood streaked head.

“Oh will you shut the hells up!”

He punctuated every single word with a shot from his quickly brandished pistol, the rotary mechanism clicking through each time as a charge ignited in a blaze of fire and smoke.

The brutal impact of the weapon rocked the guard back on his heels as each ball smashed into him, the armour he wore offered scant protection against the Captain’s pistol and the angry Kelan’s shots were aimed at the man’s head.

A cylinder of spent ammunition dropped from the still smoking pistol as the guard’s body hit the floor with a resounding thud. The gaggle of people inside the inn and out ran for cover and most of them pretended to be suddenly looking in some other direction.

The man lay dead, pierced by six precise shots – all of them in his face. His blood leaking onto the cobbles made tiny rivers of red as it ran down the stonework.

“Thank you,” Talon said and scooped up his hat with a snarl. “You broke a bottle over my head, you ruined my best frock coat and you called me a treefer…may you rot in the bowels of Akas himself!”

He turned to the others and adjusted his hat once more stowing the pistol back under his coat with his other three. “No manners some of these people but I fear we might have to cut short our little dalliance here – it won’t take them long to build up the courage to report this little incident to someone braver in the Port Authorities.”

“What did you do Talon?” Silver folded her arms and gave the Captain a stern glance. “People don’t just break bottles over smooth talking Kelanari’s heads without good reason.”

Talon grinned sheepishly for a few seconds and coughed. “I remarked that the man’s girth was larger than his waistband.”

“You told him he was fat?” Silver made an exasperated sound and rolled her eyes. “You were looking for a fight!”

Adam looked past all of them and a red haze drifted over his vision, he had the smooth crooning tones whispering softly in his ear. He could see a small gathering of armed men moving from the tavern and he shook his head.

“Is he alright?” Talon Mane narrowed his eyes at the young lord and gave Amber a questioning look. “He looks a little off colour?”

Amber was watching the small group of people and she looked back at Adam taking a step forward and putting her hand on the lord’s arm. “Captain Mane, we need to get Adam out of here or there’ll be more than just one dead port guard.”

“This has something to do with the change he mentioned?” Silver sounded impressed again and idly wondered what would happen if Adam lost his faltering control, she pondered helping that along but decided against it.

“Yes,” Amber growled and gave the men a wary look. “If Adam slips you’ll see more blood spilled here this day and some of it could be our own. I don’t think the Karnate distinguishes between friend and foe.” Her voice had a tone of regret woven into each word. “Now please help me get him out of here!”

Silver let out another soft breath and adjusted her stance a little with a glance to Talon. “Captain,” she began. “It’s time for you to get our new friends to the Reaver, leave these four swaggering blowhards to me?”

Talon didn’t argue, his head was still spinning and he was in no hurry to see Adam’s change as Amber put it. He nodded to the white-haired woman and gave her an encouraging smile. “Do not be too long my lovely and do not play too rough with them eh?”

Silver shot him a reproachful look and lifted her fingers to her lips, a second breath blew him a kiss and she stalked away from the three of them.

[Witcher Wolf]

“I would dearly love to watch her work,” Talon sighed wistfully and then turned back towards the sky-ship dock tower. “But young Adam here needs to be away from blood and battle it seems – come then Amber Savarre let us take our friend to my vessel!”

Silver watched the three of them leave her alone and she smiled disarmingly at the four swaggering sell-swords, her long white hair drifted lazily around her shoulders and settled as the breeze died down.

A crowd of onlookers gathered and some small children clung to the legs of their mothers, hiding under their skirts and peeping out. It was a showdown and the people of the port were used to seeing uneven odds, mostly it went badly for the other party as sell-swords often played by their own rules – changing them on a whim.

The men were in no mood to talk and they spread out around the woman in a confident circle of menace. She turned her head and trailed her gaze over each one of them noting the imperfections in their combat stances, how they held their swords.

The first man had the look of Scandish again with the rough north features and several days’ growth of stubble, a short sword rested comfortably but too loosely in his right hand.

The second was an Imperior youth of no more than fourteen summers, he had cold eyes however and a dagger was his weapon of choice. His fingers shook around the thin hilt and Silver watched him lick his lips, it wasn’t his first kill but he had still many more to do before he could hope to steady his left hand.

Her third combatant appeared to be a seasoned Nubian veteran; he could prove to be the most dangerous since he never directly looked at her but she knew he was watching her intently. He favoured a long sword in his right hand and had short cropped black hair, his green eyes kept a watch on his companions.

The last man to stand behind her was an arrogant and cocky Imperior fellow, his stance was too wide and his sabre that he held too tightly in his right hand wavered slightly. He seemed to be impatient and mopped his brow with a red kerchief, revealing a scarred forehead and very little hair.

Silver took stock of all this but quickly grew bored with the standoff, she decided to act first and stepped back a few paces and turned to face the scarred man. His eyes went wide at her sudden movement and he stumbled backwards clutching at his severed throat, Silver’s long dagger dripped a single drop of red.

It fell to splash on the floor and moments later the scarred man’s body followed it as he thrashed like a fish gasping for air.

She tossed the dagger to her off hand and licked the blade offering the three remaining men a wickedly sharp smile. She didn’t speak but stood there again tossing her head slightly in challenge, a deadly sign of: come get me.

Only the Nubian seemed to understand the woman’s motives and her quick efficiency, slowly he withdrew casting a suspicious glance to the two other men. He briefly toyed with the idea of fighting to aid them but no money was worth his death at the hands of a Kelanari knife-fighting witch.

To the Scandish man and Imperior youth the woman was still a better target and the fresh jingle of ikons in their purses made them a little bolder, eager. They assumed that the scarred man’s death came from his inexperience in combat and not the woman’s vicious stroke.

“It’s luck,” the Scandish man spat to the Imperior youth. “Two of us mean more gold since the darker there has backed out of the fight.”

The darker in question stopped and his green eyes grew suddenly much colder. He turned and faced the Scandish, noting him for the first time, but not as an ally.

Silver couldn’t help but chuckle; she gave the dark skinned broad-shouldered and muscled warrior a nod of respect.

The youth just nodded eagerly and waved his dagger in a motion he’d seen one of his peers perform in a tavern before adding in a whiny nasal voice. “Come on then witch!”

Silver arched her slender eyebrow and shook her head setting her long white hair billowing once more.

The ominous thud of dark boots perked her ears and she watched the big warrior step to her side, he made no move towards her but spoke in a heavy thick accent of his countrymen. “Whitehair, I want that one…” He levelled his sword to the Scandish man and looked down to Silver.

She weighed the options and decided it might be amusing to see how the Nubian fought, so she gave him a tiny shoulder-shrug and flicked her dagger. “Be my guest.”

“Teeal…” The Nubian introduced himself and broke into a run barrelling towards the Scandish sell-sword with a bellowing war cry, whirling his large sword overhead.

“Brutally crude...” Silver noted to no one but herself and kissed the blade of her dagger before she stalked towards the youth, she was in a foul mood after seeing Talon pitched through the window and someone else was going to pay in blood.

The Scandish man’s nerve broke for a moment as the massive dark giant barrelled towards him, he thrust at the Nubian’s belly but the big man’s blade swept down and with a guttural laugh he battered the other aside.

His bulk drove into the Scandish man’s chest and blew the wind from his lungs with a bone-crunching impact; it was like being struck by a fast moving ore-train – one of the Imperior steam locomotives.

Both men went crashing backwards and into a nearby market stall scattering crowds of people and throwing produce everywhere, mashed fruit and vegetables flew in all directions.

Teeal bellowed a laugh and slapped his massive black hand around the collar-bone of the dazed Scandish warrior. “You picked a bad day to call me a darker.”

Meanwhile Silver reached a few paces before the youth and he waved the dagger again hissing through his teeth. “Kelanari witch, bitch…bitch…bitch.” It became like a chant and he stabbed forwards with each word.

Silver wove to the left and right toying with the inexperienced Imperior youth, a glittering look of malice in her soul-dark eyes.

The youth stabbed again and tried to slice her across the face, she put the tip of her dagger in the way and tiny sparks flicked from the blade as she parried with a flick of her wrist.

While Silver toyed with the boy the Nubian warrior had no such intention of playing, he dropped his sword and hoisted the man up into the air with both his arms high over his head and flung him at a nearby wall – he hit it with a rattling crash and slid down to the floor.

He wasn’t done yet as he picked the bloody warrior up once more and growled to the heavens before he slammed the man down onto his upraised knee, it was a brutal move that severed the Scandish warrior’s spine and caused him to choke out a cry of agony before he died.

Teeal Mohadda stood triumphant and smiled at the crowd as if he was still in the Gladiatorial pits of his home, he bore the marks and scars of a pit fighter and from his simple attire – a black loose pair of leggings and a short tunic He needed no armour to survive in battle.

Silver noted his out of the corner of her eye and she made a quick appraisal, he could be useful she concluded and then returned to playing knife-tag with the youth, a game she rapidly decided was boring.

She didn’t care that the boy was young enough to learn the error of his ways, she could have let him live but her vicious streak manifested like red-slash and gash after gash as she went on the offensive.

Her dagger wove a wicked crimson flicker of cuts as it flew around her fingers, cutting tendons and crippling the boy in a few deft moves. He bled from a number of light but debilitating wounds that forced him onto his knees before the woman.

“Please!” He begged of her. “I’m only young, I didn’t know what I was doing…I’ll never say or do these things if I live. I’ll follow a virtuous path!”

Her harsh laughter followed this and her long fingernails stroked across his chin for a moment as she toyed with an idea. “Have you ever heard such sanctimonious claptrap?”

Teeal picked up his fallen sword and slid it away with a loud snort. “No honour in life…no honour in death, this one would put a knife into pretties back if it were turned.” He stopped to the side of the youth and spat at him, the spittle running down the boy’s ear.

The Imperior youth gave another pleading whine and blurted out. “But I have never lain with or kissed a woman; you can’t deny me that pleasure!”

Silver knelt down and breathed across his lips with a soft husky laugh. “You do not know what you’ve missed then young rake.”

“I’ll let you live,” she whispered and then pressed her lips to his for a long moment giving him the taste of a sensual wine.

“T..thank you.”

Teeal saw her hand rise with the knife in it and she drove it into the boy’s back whispering into his ear pulling her lips from his. “Just as long as the kiss I gave you lasted.”

“A deadly white flower,” he concluded as he watched the boy open his mouth to scream but Silver’s lips closed over his again drowning out the sound.

She lowered the youth to the floor and closed his eyes. “He would have been quite a fighter if he’d have bothered to train,” she said with a note of respect in her voice. “But he overreached himself.”

This last act of the white-haired Kelanari knife fighter proved to be too much for some in the crowd and they balked, some of them ran as far away as possible – many mothers made comments about the murderous Kelanari whore, Silver just stood back up and fixed Teeal with a glass-stare.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Why?” She questioned.

“Why?” He let out a lofty chuckle. “I am no fool, I see a Kelan witch…I know the Taker has come for me. I do not burn my fingers when I play with fire.”

Silver laughed a little at this reply and her gaze melted slightly. “He called you a darker as well, did that have something to do with it?”

Teeal snorted and cast a filthy look to the broken man on the floor by the wall. “It did.”

“My Captain would love to meet you,” she purred softly and began to walk towards the sky-ship dock tower. “We’ve the need of a good Bosun aboard our ship.”

“I do not like water.” Teeal said sullenly but deigned to follow the white-haired woman, noting how her backside moved in her leggings.

“That’s no problem,” Silver chuckled throatily. “It’s a sky ship.”

“Oh…”

They made swift time to the base of the sky-ship tower where the stylised shape of the Mist Reaver remained to cast a dark shadow even though the sun still blazed brightly in the cloud-swirled sky.

“That is the ship?” Teeal looked upwards as they approached it and marvelled at the giant flying sky-bird’s shape. “I expected sails and oars!”

“Most people do, or a great bag of wind…but you’ll meet him soon enough.” She said dourly and made her way into the interior of the tower, past the throngs of people that slowly filtered in and out.

“A bag of wind?” he looked at the Kelan woman with confusion in his eyes.

“The Captain and I are going to have a couple of words regarding the inn, he promised me a white wine and never delivered.” She said and began to step slowly up the spiral stairs that wound their way towards the top of the tower, hundreds of feet high.

Teeal put his large hand on the guide rail and continued to ascend with the woman, he remained silent now and wondered just what he had gotten himself involved in. The offer of work aboard such a wondrous vessel however was too good to refuse.

They broke out of the claustrophobic interior and into the bright glare of the sun, there were many sky ships of all shapes and sizes docked to the various gantries but only one stood out from all the others.

Talon’s vessel, the Mist Reaver lay across from a large galleon and gleamed brightly; even Silver with her frosty demeanour couldn’t help but cast a warm smile upon seeing the ship.

“It is beautiful,” Teeal walked over to the ship and put his hand on the hull stroking the wooden frame and metal. “How does it work?”

“Only Talon and his engineer really know.” Silver replied and rapped her knuckles on the metal, it gave a resounding hollow ring and a hiss of steam blew from under the nose of the ship.

Teeal jumped back a little as a wide long ramp came smoothly down with a whisper of hydraulic pressure.

“So do you want to meet the Captain?” Silver leaned on one of the steel and bronze struts and looked Teeal right in his eyes. “Or go our separate ways.”

He was torn for a moment and then decided by putting a foot on the ramp. “The pay is good?”

Silver breezed a tiny laugh and ducked around him tapping up the ramp with a soft footfall. “You will find the pay is very good and the crew are some of the best. I am Silver by the way, the First Mate of the Mist Reaver.”

“Teeal Mohadda,” the Nubian cracked a wide grin and walked behind the woman up the ramp and into the belly of the beast. His eyes were everywhere as he saw a long corridor lit with glowing crystal lamps, all of the walls were dark oak and there were oil paintings and gold fittings everywhere.

“The ship is a bounty of beauty,” he breathed out and touched a railing feeling how cold it felt beneath his fingers. “It is gold?”

“Yes. Do not even think about the Mist Reaver in terms of worth and treasure however, if you want to work with us,” Silver warned and levelled a stern look at the big man. “I do not think you are really that stupid.”

He took no insult and removed his hand. “I do not see the beauty of wealth. I lived to follow in my father’s footsteps; he was a great Pit Fighter – but there was no end to the slaughter for gold…so I escaped and broke free.”

Silver turned and beckoned him onwards; she smiled a little at his story and wound her way deeper into the massive interior. “Let us see if the Captain has recovered from his little impact with the inn window.”

“The men…they started the brawl.” Teeal noted as they walked down a carpeted hallway. “They took his hat.”

Silver rolled her eyes again and frowned. “That’s bound to have made Talon irritable.”

“They took his hat, put a bottle over his head, ripped his coat and threw him out of the window.” Teeal elaborated as they turned a corner.

“Was this before or after he called one of them fat?”

“He said nothing to them, only asked for a wine.”

“Typical,” Silver’s reply dripped ice as she paused before Talon’s door raising her hand to rap against it. “Why did you come outside to fight then?”

“I was bored…but not bored enough to die against a Kelanari Master,” Teeal stood a little straighter and waited now before the portal. “Their gold will come in useful to repair the Captain’s coat.”

“A good and honest gesture – you want to watch that.” Silver teased and rapped again.

“Come!” A cheerful voice echoed from within and there was a clinking sound that followed it.

Silver pushed the door wide and gestured for Teeal to enter; she followed him in and closed the door behind her. “Gallant Captain?” she breathed softly. “I have a proposition for you…”

Talon’s cabin was like the Kelan himself overly decorated and decadent to the extreme, it had the same oak panelled walls as the rest of the Reaver and the fittings were all gold. He sat behind an ostentatious ebony-topped desk on which were a number of writing implements and parchments, he looked up as Silver addressed him and grinned.

“Better send the fellow out then.” He joked brightly.

“Not that kind of proposition.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Forgive my jest!” He beamed at Teeal and immediately began to appraise the man; he actually liked what he saw and made a calculated guess as he spoke again. “I would say that you’re here to apply for the position of Bosun?”

“At Silver’s behest yes,” Teeal announced and waited for the woman to speak again, she of course fell silent and he was forced to continue. “I want to be a good Bosun on your magnificent and most beautiful vessel. I am told the pay is good and the crew are the best – the Captain I can see is a man of many tastes.” He then threw down the bag of gold ikons he’d been paid to join in the fight outside the inn.

“What’s this?” Talon heard the bag chink and scooped it up with slim fingers. “Ikons for me?” his grin widened even more and he jingled the coin purse a couple of times. “What is this for?”

“A new coat,” Teeal said with a deadpan face and voice, totally serious.

“What a heartfelt gesture and so greatly appreciated!” Talon stood up and looked up at the giant black skinned warrior. “If you can give orders and work with my crew, follow my lead and trust me to trust you – you’re welcome to be our Bosun.”

Teeal looked down at Captain Talon Mane and then across to Silver who remained impassive in the cabin, he looked around and suddenly felt a little nervous – he had wanted greatness and yet this was of a different kind.

“Where do I sleep?”

Talon beamed once more and flopped back into his chair. “The old Bosun’s cabin, if you want it?”

“The…old Bosun,” Teeal said with a note of apprehension in his voice.

“He died a hero’s death.” Silver assured and looked askance to Talon as the Kelanari male waved a finger.

Teeal missed the gesture and shrugged a little. “I will try not to die then.” He added after a few more moments. “The cabin is fine, when do I start?”

“Hmm, how about now,” Talon threw another bag of ikons over to the man, keeping the gift; he knew full well not to refuse a gift from the Nubian. “If you have nothing else you’re doing that is?”

Teeal laughed and shook his head. “You see me as I am, with only the things I have on me as mine,” he looked to Silver then to Talon and bowed to them both. “I will not forget this, Teeal Mohadda is proud to be the bosun of the mighty Mist Reaver.”

Talon leaned back in his chair and acted nonchalantly for a moment spinning the bag of ikons around his finger. “Welcome to the crew then, we depart in under an hour. Bosun, have the men lock down the ship and if the Port Guard come calling – I was killed in the battle and my body eaten by crows.” He chuckled softly.

Silver just let out a sigh and put her back to the cabin’s wall in a resigned kind of way.

“Yes Cap’n.” Teeal moved towards the door confidently and opened it, ducking once more as he passed under the frame, “how many crows?”

“Oh,” Talon answered. “A…murder!”

Silver groaned.

“Yes Cap’n…” He scratched the top of his head and made a slight face at Talon’s remark before he caught hold of a passing crew member and relayed the Captain’s message directly.

Silver shut the door after she was confident Teeal had followed the fleeing crewman down the corridor and fixed a level gaze on Talon Mane.

“What do you think?”

“I like him. He’s big, bold and brash…why didn’t you kill him?” Talon remained smugly behind his desk dressed in a version of his earlier red attire, except it was black now and picked out with silver.

“Why waste good talent, he recognised my style and that means a lot to me – I quite like Nubians, out of all the human peoples they’re the ones that actually have some sense,” she replied archly and found herself a seat off to one side of Talon’s desk. “He stood and fought beside a stranger in battle…reacting to their typical insult for his kind, darker indeed.”

“It is rather crass just like treefer, which book of clichés do these people read Silver?” Talon opened a cupboard in his desk and drew out a crystal glass into that he poured a generous helping of white wine.

“I believe this is yours.” He said to Silver and offered her the drink.

She took it and sipped taking a moment to relax. “I do not know Talon, you go for white wine and we end up with how many dead?”

Talon opened his fingers and counted off. “Four?”

“Yes.”

“We got a new bosun out of it…and don’t forget Adam and Amber.” Talon pondered his own drink and left it sitting there in the glass, he studied Silver intently for a while. “You’re not irked with me are you my lovely?”

“No. I could kill you, but no I am not irked with you.” She snorted and drained the rest of the wine with a mutter. “Rogue…”

“Have I ever said I was anything but a rogue my dear?” Talon stood up from the chair and crossed the room to where she sat; he put a companionable hand upon hers and smiled. “Would you have me any other way?”

She pondered punching him in the face to relieve some of her tension but the touch of his hand on hers stopped her. “You don’t deserve me Talon…”

“I do not deserve you, this ship or even me!” Talon’s lips quirked into a grin as the conversation attempted to veer towards a serious note. “But I am stuck with me, you’re stuck with me and I am stuck with you!”

“Talon,” she warned but her laughter broke through it and she placed the glass onto a nearby table with a clink.

She wasn’t allowed another word as Talon pressed his lips to hers, she didn’t push him away or attempt cut his throat – she melted to his arms.

For all her core of steel and shell of ice, the one man to break her demeanour in a moment that had never harmed or hurt her was Talon, she had opened her heart to him years ago and he had treated it as if he wore velvet gloves.

He took a long time over the kiss and made sure she knew that he had placed her at the centre of his world, it was a long lingering gesture that set both their hearts afire and as they shed clothes as if they had only moments to live – they lay sprawled and recaptured the first night that they had ever met in a tempestuous tangle of loose limbs under the glowing light of a crystal lamp.

It was not a moment for long caresses and lingering touches, like a moth burned in the bright embrace of a candle the two of them shared that final poignant blaze together and collapsed breathing hard.

When Talon could speak again he wiped his sweat streaked brow and chuckled. “We should depart really…”

Silver gave a mutter and looked about for her clothing, her motion arrested by Talon’s slim hand on her shoulder.

She flashed him a coy soul-dark look and fumbled for his hat, putting it on her head with a soft laugh. “Does it suit me?”

“I still think you looked better wearing me.” He joked and began to dig around for his clothing, stealing his hat back with a soft. “Mine!”

Silver lay there in her mass of tumble-down white hair and her chest rose and fell, she took a few more steadying breaths and stood up buckling on her leggings and digging out her boots.

“Better?” Talon asked with an arched brow.

“How did you know?” She slipped into her blouse and smiled warmly.

“A lover’s intuition – well that and you were radiating lust like those fools at the port radiated idiocy.” He dressed quickly and dug out his brace of four pistols from where they’d been hung on the back of a chair, attaching them under his black frock coat.

As she smoothed down her hair she laughed again at Talon’s ribald comment and slipped a thin stiletto into one boot. “Well…thank you for being so perceptive…”

“I do my best.”

“I think you did better than best.”

“Charmer,” he checked his attire in a long floor-length mirror and saw Silver standing just behind him, doing the same. “We’re rather vain on the whole aren’t we?”

“Of course,” she chuckled with a breathy husk. “I take pride in my looks and you do in yours. I call it concerned about ones appearance.”

“It’s much better than vain.” Talon concluded and chuckled one more time. “I like that.” He said and crossed to the door, pulling it open with a gloved hand. “So shall we go and put our backs to the wind?”

“It’s about time.”

“I am shocked though…you haven’t asked about Adam or Amber?”

“Should I?” Silver frowned a little and found she was only now wondering how the young lord was doing. “Is the lord fine?”

“Sleeping like a baby…I had the cook brew up a draught, Amber’s keeping watch on him. We’ll be going to Wyrden to see if we can’t find out what’s up…Amber also told me about Crow’s Foot.”

“Oh…that…”

“Yes that.” He put his hand on Silver’s shoulder again and smiled at her. “As much as I hate to get involved in something as big as this,” he knew that was a total lie but carried on. “I can’t help myself!”

“Just don’t get us killed.” Silver muttered as they both left the room and closed the door behind her again, walking briskly off towards the bridge of the Mist Reaver.

Talon followed and replied with aplomb. “Lady Danae Silvercrest: Silver? Have I ever let you down before?”

“No but that doesn’t mean something won’t happen to knock the wind out of your sails…but what the hells, it’s not like we’re going to live forever is it?” She gave another resigned sigh and pulled her hair back off her face.

“That’s the spirit!” Talon quickened his pace and strode out before Silver becoming even more cocky and confident as he approached the door that lead to his bridge. He could already see the blue sky and construction of the dock tower out of the crystal view-port at the front of the Reaver.

A sea of expectant faces turned to view Talon as he strode onto the bridge; he sank into his leather-backed chair and tapped the wooden arm with his fingers.

“Soon we’re off my crew of brave, bold lads and lasses!”

A cheer went up as Silver stepped in and took position to his right side, leaning one hand on the back of the chair.

“We have a new Bosun, a Nubian fellow by the name of Teeal.”

A quiet whisper filtered back and forth through the bridge as Talon spoke, he watched his crew’s reaction as they gathered to listen.

“Spread the news to all your shipmates, but I am sure that he’ll introduce himself as time flies by.” Talon cast his eyes to the dock’s circular platform and took a breath. “We make for Wyrden, you know the way! Get to it!” He grinned and sat back.

The crew dispersed and manned their various positions on the odd vessel; the most prominent was a young man of twenty that stood before a ship’s wheel of some kind. He gave a nod to Talon and began to operate various levers and big brass switches.

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Seven: Cloud-stalking Wyrden

The docking gantry of Jakarta’s tower rotated backwards and out of sight leaving the giant bird-shaped vessel hanging there impossibly in the sky above the port. The sun gleamed in shards of gold against the dark hull as the Mist Reaver moved backwards casting a deep shadow upon a group gathered below on the street.

Children stood and stared pointing to the sky as the vessel turned slowly around and began to arc into the air swiftly sailing upon the clouds as if they were water. The outstretched wings of her shape clove the white in two as she pushed further and further upwards falling out of sight but not out of mind of the impressionable youngsters.

On the bridge Talon Mane watched the assent of his vessel with a critical eye and turned to whisper to Silver. “I never tire of that sight.”

“Nor do I,” she answered softly.

The trails of air that whipped past the rapidly accelerating ship broke into silver streamers off the wing tips and as the Reaver rolled to the right she broke out over the gleaming Sea of Aden, the body of water that separated Vikart from the lands of Hadden and the newly formed city of Wyrden.

“I suppose we need to discuss with Adam just what the hell is going on.” Talon mused and cast a glance to one of the crew, catching their eye with his own, “Sparrow my lad?”

“Yes Cap?” The red haired youth dressed in leggings and a waistcoat of black and red, turned and scurried over to Talon. “What be it sir?”

“Go to the passenger cabins and see how our guests are, then tell them to meet me in the small stateroom, got that?” Talon grinned at the youth and leaned back in his chair again to watch the sky.

“Aye Cap!” Sparrow turned on his heel and bolted from the room with a clatter of shoes, he swiftly made his way down corridor after corridor heading to the stern of the ship.

Silver became lost in her own thoughts while she followed Talon’s gaze, watching the dancing clouds as they changed shape and moved. When the Reaver drifted upwards through them and split a wake in the middle it looked like they had passed through white-water rapids or a snow drift on the side of a mountain.

Sparrow rattled down the last corridor and stopped before the passenger cabins, he paused to question a member of the crew as to which cabin Talon had new guests in, and when he got a satisfactory answer he knocked on the large oak door.

“It is open.” Amber’s voice came from within and the door remained firmly closed.

Sparrow took a moment to adjust his waistcoat and opened the door very carefully; he peered inside and saw the Kelan woman was sitting on a chair by the side of Adam’s bed – the sight of the dark haired lord’s wolf-like eyes disturbed him greatly.

“Begging your pardons miss,” he began with the best tone he could muster. “But the Cap says you’re to meet him in the small stateroom as soon as you can.”

She was about to thank the nervous youth but he fled out of the door and closed it quickly behind him, fleeing all the way down the corridors and back towards the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him away from those inhuman eyes.

His flight left her alone with her thoughts and she’d taken the time while Adam slept to bathe in the sunken bath, a luxury that she never imagined she’d see in a hundred years.

Now Amber wore a simple purple silk shirt tied into a knot under her breasts and black leather leggings, her knives were still there – one at each hip and her plated boots had been replaced by softer turn-top ones.

She had pulled her mass of red hair into a number of fine plaits and they were also pulled into a long tail, down her back. Her eyes were directly on Adam as he slept under the covers, she’d helped one of the crew undress the lord after he’d passed out in the chair upon drinking the cook’s heady draught.

Even the marks that his fingernails had made as they dug into the flesh of his hand had become only a memory against his skin. She spent the time he dozed studying his features and noting the sculpted lines of his form, how he fitted together – it was usual for a Kelan knife-fighter witch as they were called to take note of an ally’s strengths and weaknesses, their order was based upon rigorous training and reaction to weak points in their opponents.

His chest rose and fell shallowly a couple of times and his staring open eyes blinked as a signal that his sleep was soon to end, the draught had not knocked him out for long it appeared.

He suddenly shot bolt upright in the bed and let out an inhuman growl, his facial features twisting from man to wolf and back again in an instant.

Amber Savarre hopped backwards with her chair clattering to the floor, both hands on her knives before she’d realised she’d reacted out of instinct. Slowly she lowered her hands and picked up the chair.

“You had bad dreams?” She queried with a note of concern in her voice.

“No. Where am I?” Adam whipped his head around and then put one hand to his forehead, he was burning up. He threw the sheets aside and tried to rise; only to end up sprawled naked on the floor showing his backside to the sky.

Amber put her hand to her mouth to stifle a sharp laugh and then moved over to help him. “Adam?”

“Amber? What’s going on?” He sounded dazed, confused and distant almost as if he hadn’t quite returned from his sleep.

“Take it easy.” She helped him back to the bed and put a slim hand on his brow, he was hot to the touch and she winced. It felt like a fever but he hadn’t seemed sick. Amber caught a jug with her other hand and pulled it off the table, with a quick motion she filled up a wooden cup and proffered it to him.

“Thank you,” he downed the contents in seconds and it brought a hacking coughing fit as the cold hit his throat. “More.” He rasped hoarsely and then a note of panic entered his voice as he realises where they were. “What about Shade?”

“He’s in the hold, complained bitterly about the lack of respect and accommodation for his kind and then stood there in mute silence,” Amber explained and filled another cup of water, putting it to Adam’s lips. “Drink…”

He took the other cup and downed that one in seconds as well, three more cups followed and the jug was almost empty. “What happened? I remember seeing Talon thrown through a window and then things went red, we moved through the streets…came on board and I drank something and…out like a light.”

“That’s about right,” Amber flicked her plaited hair over one shoulder and the tiny braids flickered like red fire for a moment. “You kept control…I’m impressed.”

“I could feel it slipping Amber, gnawing at my soul like a black void.” He sounded scared for once in his life and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say Adam except that what ever happens, regardless – I will be here.” Amber had grown a little fonder each day of the young lord because he asked nothing of her, demanded nothing that she would not give freely if the time were right or put any imposition upon her.

“That means a great deal to me,” he smiled and lay back with his head on the pillow. “There was a young boy here…I can smell his fear?”

“One of Talon’s crew and you’re not going to eat him!” She teased thinking that perhaps humour might be the best direction to keep Adam from thinking too deeply on what he’d become.

“I wouldn’t…would I?” He asked and then rubbed at his eyes. “No I wouldn’t.” A note of conviction entered his voice.

Amber nodded and gave his shoulder a pat touching his skin with her fingertips, a soft tingle passed through them and she pulled her hand away again resting it on her knee.

“What did he want?”

“Talon wants to meet with us in the small stateroom, do you know where that is?” Amber’s gaze lingered a little on Adam’s slightly exposed chest and the Kelanari averted her eyes after her thoughts took a turn for the worse.

“I do…what’s wrong?” Adam saw her tear her gaze away and he leaned up a little more, the sheet dropped lower.

“Adam…you’re pleasing to the eye.” She admitted and then looked into his eyes. “It’s that Karnate presence again, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “You have to want to look…to feel…to touch…no one forces you, not even she.” He said as if he were distant once again, there was a soft but feral tone to his voice.

“I am no stranger to men.” Amber confided but bit her lip. “But you fill my head with so many thoughts, conflicting emotions and it spins too fast.”

“If you fall – I will catch you.”

She blinked at that and gave a smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

“Why when at my core I should be as the steel of a fine sword, do I feel as giddy as a newborn colt?”

Adam laughed softly at this and swept out of the bed to find his clothes, his momentary disorientation had passed for now. He began to dress confident of her eyes upon his every move, even though they were unashamedly staring.

“The harder you fight against a strong wind the more you’re broken against the gale.” Adam pulled on one boot after the other and finally swirled his long black coat over his frame, letting it drape as he stretched.

“That doesn’t answer my question!” She snorted at him and stood up from the chair knocking it backwards with her sudden movement.

“The heart is a strange thing Amber Savarre,” he stood there under the glare from her eyes. “I cannot explain it nor would I want to. My mother would probably have a dozen theories.”

She blinked mostly at her own actions and sat heavily on the bed for a moment fighting back a wave of frustrated tears, she didn’t act like this and ever since she’d met Adam she’d found herself growing more and more attached, her problem was she lived such an isolated life – she had no idea how to begin.

As if sensing the woman’s discomfort he sat on the bed next to her and took her hand, placing it in his, closing strong fingers about it.

“Amber.” He began and then brushed his lips against hers for the briefest of a time. “Let the wind blow us together if it wants, if you try and force it…or if you pull away from it…ruination can only be the result.”

“Goddess,” she frowned. “I must seem so much of a fool to you, not as assured as Silver or confident about my feelings – you can see the way she looks at Talon, her love is written in the blue of her eyes.”

“You’re not a fool,” Adam gently ran a finger down her face. “You are the first person that I really have thought more of, than a quick grope in a dark alley. I am not the gentleman that everyone thinks I am.” He sounded sullen for a moment. “Or perhaps I am becoming more like that image of me they’d like.”

Amber’s fingers tightened around his and she put her head on the lord’s shoulder, where she wanted to lay it since she saw him sleeping in the cave. “I don’t mind a quick grope in a dark alley.” She tried to laugh but it sounded so sad.

“It’s as though you have built a wall and dam in your mind Amber Savarre, as though you have trained yourself to block out everything that could have caused you harm – even the matters of heart, now that wall is coming down and you’re unsure of how to proceed,” he put a single finger over her heart and whispered softly. “Here is where it begins.”

Amber took a steadying breath again and looked into his feral eyes, they were the colour of her own but their inhuman nature only made them more attractive. “You have eyes the like of which I have no words to describe.”

“Try lupine?” Adam cracked a sly smile and kissed her again, stopping any further reply. It wasn’t the briefest of kisses nor was it the longest but it was a kiss that stirred her heart for long enough so one hand wound its way into the lord’s hair.

“I don’t fear the monster you are Adam, and neither should you.” She responded to the kiss with a hungry passion, one that grew the longer she pressed her lips to his.

He broke it after a while and took his own steadying breath; he could feel the pull of the Karnate against him and growled in the back of his head. Amber’s words had given him some semblance of hope and understanding, he did fear the change – if he embraced it – perhaps he could control it, after all it wasn’t a burden it was a boon.

He had been letting the Karnate pull the strings and knew the Goddess would continue to use him as a puppet for her own lusts and pleasures, she was not the best patron to have but her gift could be useful against Fenaric and the Demon lord Rhage’s other agents.

Adam smiled a little more at this self realisation and put Amber’s head back on his shoulder, taking a moment to stroke her hair and just feel the closeness of the beautiful Kelanari woman.

He could also feel the urge to satisfy his lust with her, at the behest of the Goddess, an urge that he took great delight in suppressing. Rather than a reproach or scolding feeling upon this blatant defiance he sensed a grudging respect from the wellspring of his soul.

He had tamed the beast upon his flight from Crow’s Foot but it would take him longer to control the Karnate that urged him to let it out, for now the battle of wills was at a level balance with neither Goddess nor man budging an inch from their respective positions.

[Witcher Wolf]

“Adam?” Amber’s soft voice broke into the lord’s reverie and he looked to the side where her head perched on his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I think we should go and see Talon as much as I am enjoying this quiet time.” She had a vague note of regret in her voice and then a little boldness crept in as she spoke once more. “We could continue this later over a wine or two?”

“That sounds excellent Amber.”

They left the cabin and thanks to Adam’s knowledge of Talon’s ship they soon found their way to the small stateroom, which of course was actually quite large and just as over the top as the rest of the vessel – lit by a medium size crystal chandelier that cast diamonded shadows as the sun gleamed in through the windows

“You took your time.” Talon breezed as Adam and Amber strolled into the room, he had already opened a bottle of white wine and four glasses stood full to the brim around one of the tables. “How do you like my ship so far then Amber?”

“Captain Mane.” She said entering just behind Adam. “I have to admit that I have never seen a ship like this, or have I ever really been on any other sky ship.”

“Honest. I like that.” Talon gestured to a couple of chairs, he and Silver already occupied two of the larger ones and his first mate was lounging comfortably – she had a smug expression and had freed her long hair back to a tumbling blizzard of white.

Adam pulled out Amber’s chair and she looked at him with a confused expression before remembering it was a noble’s thing to do, she sat down and took a glass of wine.

Adam lowered himself into his seat and crossed one leg over the other nodding to Talon and Silver. “Thank you both.”

“What did I do?” Silver purred teasingly and then smiled. “Oh what ever it was, don’t worry about it.”

Amber sipped her wine and closed her eyes savouring the taste; she flicked her tongue against her teeth and opened her eyes again. “Silver...”

“Amber…” Silver purred in reply and offered a guarded smile.

“Talon…Adam.” Talon Mane offered a cheeky kind of grin and folded a hand onto his knee. “The reason I have called us here is that I am an egotistical bastard that requires more than his fair share of attention, as well as I am as curious as a Kelanari in a room full of enigmas about Crow’s Foot?”

Silver chuckled a little and said. “No arguments from me Captain.”

Amber and Adam remained silent but it was obvious by their smiles Talon’s humour and natural charm began to lighten their spirits.

Talon stood up from his chair and paced in a few quick steps over to one of the windows; he turned in a dramatic gesture and spoke once more. “We wing our way to Wyrden to seek answers in this most interesting endeavour…now as far as I could glean, Crow’s Foot was butchered with no quarter given and no mercy?”

“That’s correct.” Adam then recounted the tale of Crow’s Foot in as minute detail he could remember, he stopped of course when he reached the transformation as the memory was vague now and he couldn’t recall most of the details. Amber took over at that point and explained the battle that Adam waged against Fenaric’s army in his Karnate form, adding a few embellishments and dramatics of her own.

Both Talon and Silver listened intently as the story unfolded before them and after Amber fell silent, Talon walked back to his chair and sat down. “Rhage overstepped his bounds this time, he’s planning something…and I can feel it in my bloody bones.”

“That’s my thought.” Adam added and nodded to his friend.

Silver ran a finger around the edge of her glass moving it to the rim until the whole thing sang for a while; she stopped and dipped it into the wine taking a long lick off her nail. “It sounds as though Fenaric’s embarking on a slaughter to empower the Demon lord; you know Rhage’s power comes from the souls of those that die in his warmongering.”

“Yes.” Adam said and rubbed both of his hands down across his nose and chin before he growled softly, the sound perked Silver’s ear.

“A feral one…lucky you Amber…” She winked at the other woman and downed the rest of her wine. “So what do you want to do Talon? We’re hardly equipped to fight a war.”

Silver’s question brought a smile to Talon’s face and he imagined the situation for a moment, dashing and victorious over the forces of lord Rhage. “Oh I do not know Silver…there are my contacts in Wyrden…pirates and rogues.” He chuckled with a devious grin. “If we can convince them to make a stand, after all, Rhage is robbing them of their innocent victims.”

“A foul means to and end.” Amber nodding grudgingly and looked to Adam with a questioning stare.

“It might work.” He replied.

“Of course it will work. I am Captain Talon Mane after all and never let it be said that any plan of mine has failed yet.” Talon stood and adopted a mock heroic pose allowing his hat feather to drift from side to side before it stilled.

“What frightens me?” Silver said solemnly with a serious expression on her face. “Is that he is sadly right.”

Talon grinned under the looks from all three of them and swept into a low enthusiastic bow. It was one of those bows that a normal man would have ended up on the floor after executing, the Kelanari made it look childishly simple.

“He has that look in his eyes again.” Adam noted and downed his wine in one before he refilled the glass from the nearby bottle. “Very well Talon, what’s our first step when we get to Wyrden?”

Talon sat back down once more and his face slipped into a vaguely serious expression, he ran a few ideas through his head before asking the obvious question. “What about your mother Adam, the Countess Arabella could help us?”

“If she deems it in her best interests…” Adam’s soft voice intoned and looked at Talon for a moment, noting the Kelan’s insufferable confidence.

“I am sure I can persuade her.” Talon replied to his friend and chuckled a little under his breath. “We’re on fairly good terms if I remember correctly.”

“She may already know.” Silver had pulled out one of her daggers and sat idly trimming her nails with the sharpened point; she looked at each one and smiled in a pleased kind of manner. “That would make things simpler for us.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Adam said and seemed to brush the rest of the conversation aside until he added. “I need to seek her out regardless; I have to know more about Karnate.”

“Yes you are rather volatile there young chap.” Talon nodded in agreement and that set his hat’s feather bobbing again madly. “I wouldn’t want you to sink your teeth into my arse by mistake.”

Rather than taking any kind of insult from the good natured jest Adam said lightly. “I wouldn’t want to sink my teeth into your arse Captain.”

“Touché,” Silver put the knife away and took up her glass again. “So we’re agreed then, we’re going to make a stand against this madness? And even though we are utterly mad ourselves?”

“Of course we are!” Talon shouted then refilled his glass and downed it in one. “I’ll drink heartily to that.”

“You just did Captain.” Amber smiled and nodded to Silver. “Yes Silver, I think we are all mad but it won’t just stop there at Crow’s Foot – no matter our personal feelings or past – we have to do something because if we don’t, Rhage will slake his blood-thirst against us all…this world…this ship…this crew and Talon.”

Amber picked just the right words to get Silver’s attention; he was the one thing she couldn’t bear to loose and apart from being her strength, he was also her weakness.

“True.” Silver acknowledged and gave the other woman a brief white smile, before she lifted her glass again.

“I am just as mad as the rest of you.” Adam said and laughed. “But if madness is the course to stay a tide of blood then I say, I would rather be mad than a bystander who is butchered as the warmonger spreads his disease over the face of the land.”

“Well said that man.” Talon piped up and gave a slow clap to Adam’s words before he eyed the empty bottle. “Well that’s a dead soldier there…and I have a job to do…running a ship and all!” He grinned at Adam and Amber. “Thanks for your time both, Silver…time to get busy.”

Silver stood from her chair and began to walk towards the door swishing as she went, mostly for Talon’s benefit.

Talon caught the woman’s motion as she walked out and chuckled. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me, we’ll take about five days to get to Wyrden so relax and enjoy the ship’s many accommodations – you can dine with me at the Captain’s table every evening if you wish…until tonight…have fun!”

He left Adam and Amber alone in the small stateroom as the door closed with a click; Amber stood and traced Talon’s earlier steps to the window looking out at the breathtaking view of the sky as the sun was now heading towards the last few beams of this day’s light.

Adam joined her at the window and put his arm around her waist. “It is a dark road we choose to walk. I do not candy coat the possibility that we might not make it, but rather than dwell on such things – look to what is here and now.”

She smiled at him and moved a little closer. “We shall see Adam Wolfe, we shall see.”

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Eight: The grey right hand of Akas

As the Mist Reaver continued her five day journey towards the city of Wyrden, the servant of the Bloodless One had already appeared on Hadden’s shores, he had taken the guise of a simple Fence, believing that this afforded him the best opportunity to learn more about the human and other occupants of this bustling throng of activity.

Wyrden was a trade port that sat like a beady-eyed crow on the south western inlet of the small province of Turvan. It had begun life as a small hamlet taking an interest in the various fishing ships that often took to their humble docks as vicious storms plagued the Sea of Aden all year round.

Slowly over time as trade and commerce began to flood the region the small hamlet spread into a tiny village and then suddenly over the last few years, since Akas broke free many people sought to escape Vikart and found their way to the growing shades and shadows of Wyrden itself.

This population expansion had brought with it Wyrden’s new Mayor and ruler, Gustav Gendavit who narrowly escaped death in a Melanchan prison. The man had been thrown into the dark iron cells because he decided to embezzle funds from the king’s treasury, how he avoided execution no one knew but some guards rumoured a woman in a dark cloak visited the warden and the day after the man was freed.


The various lines of enquiry from Imperior inquisitors lead to a dead trail of parchment and in some cases a dead inquisitor or two, after a small amount time the whole sordid affair was forgotten and Gustav was smuggled out of Vikart and sent to rule Wyrden where his mysterious benefactors hoped he wouldn’t do the same.

He had proven to be a wise choice as Mayor and he had brought a great deal of extra trade into the city. Of course his benefactors didn’t know his sources of the trade, such as mercenary guilds, sell-sword schools and various nefarious sea going gentlefolk of a dubious moral nature – often known as Pirates.

If they had known just who his contacts were it is likely they wouldn’t have cared since they had but one purpose in securing the man’s position in Wyrden. They had asked him for one favour alone, that they were to keep a portion of the city to their own where only their folk may go – he was to send no guards into that place and he was to turn a blind eye to all that happened.

Gustav owed them his life and could do nothing short but agree to these terms. So the Anshada established their claws into Wyrden and took a quarter of the city as their own and true to his word not a single soul entered that place day or night.

With the presence of these secretive and manipulative people the city began to prosper as more and more traders found it to be to their liking, Gustav relished in the golden ikons that flowed like cheap beer in the local taverns and was blind to the truth.

His city was a murderous place in the shadows, more so than any other city and very often his own guards refused to intercede – some out of fear and some because the swell of ikons against their thigh was more comforting than the thought of breaking a few heads to restore order.

They were wise in many ways because open war raged in those streets between rival gangs, those that sought to take a slice of the lucrative pie that brought with it many rewards.

A Guard’s life in Wyrden was one of constant threat and danger, most of them kept to the brightly lit streets at night and the clever ones remained in the barracks. This of course was no guarantee of their safety as many a Guardsman had been drawn out of their bunk and had their throat slit because they looked at a thug the wrong way.

Yet for some reason the city kept on expanding, perhaps it was the constant flow-through of new rich pickings or the actions of a brave few sell-swords that kept some of the more ruthless gangs in check, but the balance in the port city was unstable at best.

Those like Talon Mane who had a reputation and presence were often feared by even the worst of the gang members, but those who looked to make a name for themselves were considered fresh meat and easily fed into the grinder that were the alleys and back streets of Wyrden.

The sun died like a gasping dog on the horizon bleeding out the last few rays of its life over the shreds of clouds. It stained them crimson before it gave up and slipped off in a daze.

Darkness picked at the streets like a carrion bird spilling long shadows across the cobbles, lurking in alleys and sliding across rooftops. The night appeared like a living creature and hungrily devoured all traces of humanity – casting Wyrden into a different shape, a horrific one that dominated the hours until the dawning of a new day.

Wyrden by daylight was dangerous but by night it transformed into a twisted parody of itself. The Mayor had no idea what the presence of the Anshada had done to his trade port but as the shadows grew in length and severity – so the barrier between the Demon world and the mortal world became thinner.

A few hours later when the darkness’ grip was at its strongest and even the street lanterns of the port city struggled to illuminate a foot in front of them, a howling wind birthed the first of tonight’s deaths as a man was torn into shreds by invisible claws and teeth, collapsing in a ragged doll-like mass on the floor.

Moments later a street vendor that wandered out of his building slamming the shutters of his shop was hoisted into the air and hurled through a wooden fence, his body pierced by a sudden spike of metal that moved by unseen fingers to greet him with a final pointed stroke.

And through this dark miasma of veiled terror strolled Akas’ servant Ssharan as though he owned the city, untouched by the lurking things that sat just on the edges of perception and rattled on barred windows in a giddy kind of glee.

The Demon sensed the meddling of the Anshada and chuckled with a rasping breath as his human form trailed on; he was heading to a place where he could begin to sow the seeds of his daring plan.

He looked weak and unassuming but behind his black eyes, rough features and ill-fitting clothes, Shaw the Fence was another being entirely.

To the lurking Demon kind that made Wyrden their nightly play-toy he appeared in his true form – that of the hooded grey robed tall near-ethereal creature marked by the Demon king’s powerful sigil upon his clothing.

Ssharan enjoyed the notoriety of serving Akas and revelled in the fear it inspired in the other Demons, he billowed on and dared just one of them to try and make a single move towards him, and not one of them even looked for long upon the servant as he made his way onwards.

The gleam of a nearby lamp tried to push the shadow away and Ssharan looked at it, he heard low voices conspiring in the slit of a close alley. He looked down at himself and a slow smile formed on a featureless black void for a moment, as in his true form he lurked just a breath away from their vision.

He heard their voices lower and picked up the barest hint of malice as he drew closer to the dip in the alley; the bumbling fence dropped a single ikon and muttered to himself about the state of his pockets.

Ssharan began to play their game except that they were the mice and he was the cat, his cold soulless eyes already pierced the darkness behind the human mask. He saw three men dressed in dark blue and all three of them were hooded.

“Oh well…” He mumbled. “Ikons are ikons Shawie, that’s the way the butter melts.” As the glittering coin skittered into the alley, he could hear the intake of their breath.

He followed it in and was immediately seized by a rough pair of hands. “Hello Shaw.” He recognised the voice; it was Thomas Lanke a local runner for the Rat’s gang of cut-throats and murderers.

“Hello?” The feeble human voice wailed in the darkness and Ssharan fought to keep control of his hissing tones. “What do you want with me?”

“You were paid quite a lot by one of our boys today Shaw my friend.” Thomas leered right into the other man’s face so spittle flew into his eyes. He was an ugly unkempt thug under his hood.

“I know and mighty kind it was of your boss to send me the business.” Shaw replied with a pleased kind of tone, Ssharan hoped it sounded suitably grovelling.

“The boss doesn’t appreciate the need we have to line our pockets with more ikons ratneck.” Thomas wound his fingers into the collar of Shaw’s clothing and began to twist. “You’re going to take us to your shop and give us today’s takings plus the money the boss gave you for that bit of art we fleeced earlier.”

“Please, thems me livelihood!” Shaw squawked and earned himself a volatile punch to the stomach.

Ssharan idly thought in a dim moment of amusement. So this is pain? Well now, what fun?

He forced the human body to double over and spat a mixture of blood and phlegm onto his boots.

“Didn’t quite hear that Shaw, what did you say you were going to do?” Thomas laughed and landed another hard jab to the man’s upper abdomen.

Shaw’s face contorted in agony and he spat more blood. “Thomas,” he dropped to his knees sagging in the heavy grip of the other. “Please, no more.” He whined.

The thug was oddly amused by Shaw’s demeanour and pleading voice. He didn’t drop him but he hit Shaw about six more times just to make sure.

“Not going to stop until you give us what we want!”

“So you’re going to kill me?” Shaw’s eyes were shining with tears, but behind the broken body and face there was another smile. A Demon’s smile in a purring void, the mortal was playing into his hands.

“If you don’t give us what we want, then you’re going to wind up dead.” Thomas drew his favourite jagged knife and put it under Shaw’s throat. “Don’t push me mate.”

The other two thugs jeered their friend on, they knew better than to cross Thomas Lanke, he was a vicious man when riled and he was only playing with Shaw at the moment.

“Please don’t kill me!” Shaw whinged and the Demon behind his eyes made sure it was an irritating whine, to add insult to injury.

Thomas made a choice then that Shaw was obviously not going to give up the goods so; he could always break into the fence’s shop and rifle it. He drove the dagger deep into the man’s belly six times in quick succession – the jagged edges ripped flesh apart like a shark’s teeth.

All Shaw could really do was scream, at least to Thomas it sounded like a scream but to the other men it was more like a shout of pleasure.

“See Shaw, that’s what you get.” Thomas decided that this was not good enough and rammed the blade into the man’s throat this time, ripping it back and forth until gouts of blood spilled from a tangled ragged hole.

He let the body go and looked at the other two men, one of them pointed a trembling finger at Shaw and both of them put their backs to the gruesome visage, they put their feet to the cobbles and ran as fast as they could.

Shaw was still standing in a ragged mass of pierced skin and bloody defiance, Thomas gaped and took one step back. “What the hell?”

The torn gap at the Fence’s throat moved like a macabre mouth and a voice a thousand times colder than the sky above rolled forth. “You will do just fine to serve the Master in his Legions.”

Thomas screamed as he dropped the blade, the very nature of the creature before him became as solid as the wall at his back and he let vent to a strangled gibber. The man’s sanity tore away in an instant as Ssharan revealed his true form, that of the ghostly ethereal Demon in grey.

The skyline and backdrop of Wyrden fell away as though it were broken slate against the stroke of a miner’s pick or hammer, one of the many gifts of Akas’ servant was to rend the fabric and tenuous veil between the worlds with a single breath.

Thomas fell backwards onto a sharp black glassy plain and he padded his hands over the ground, serrations of obsidian ripped into his palm and fingers drawing slickers of blood.

In the Demon King’s world Ssharan stood as he appeared to the human in the city, save that he was now solid and the tatters of grey that wound around his form reached forth to lift the terrified man off the ground and hold him there in fabric-like arms.

“Such falsehood will only offend the Master,” Ssharan soothed and slithered forwards in an ethereal drift. “We must remove it together a layer at a time…yes?”

Thomas tried to run but he was caught in the Demon servant’s horrid embrace, his eyes rolled back into his head and he tried to bite off his tongue gurgling as a thread of fabric pulled at it for him.

The thread was as sharp as razor wire and it sliced through the meat of the man’s tongue in moments, the pink-grey matter slopping to the floor in an ooze of blood pooling around Thomas’ feet.

He began to choke upon his own life’s fluid but the Demon held his soul in his clawed hands, toying with the man as he made Thomas’ tongue wriggle around the floor like a demented bloated maggot.

One long sharp claw caressed Thomas’ cheek and over a period of a few hours Ssharan peeled his prisoner like a small orange, layer after layer of skin…sinew and muscle were cut in strips from the tormented thug.

Thomas’ gurgled screams were music to the Demon’s ears and he continued his work heedless of the fact he had other plans to attend to, he was preparing the man’s soul for the final transition to serve Akas.

The last strip of skin was drawn away from a picked white skull where the jaw worked against the air, trying to issue forth any sound but since it lacked even vocal chords that was impossible – a few more slices and Ssharan knew he was at last done.

The man’s sanity and soul were in tatters, a perfect gift for his Demon King. He wound the threads of his grey robe into the remainder of the skin and pulled – sundering the body with a shuddering snap of motion.

Thomas’ skeleton flew apart and disgorged a mass of internal organs and bodily fluids; they squeezed and dropped onto the black glassy ground. His still beating heart was punctured by an upraised shard of obsidian.

Ssharan gathered Thomas’ soul with careful claws and drew it into himself for safe keeping, he would release it the next time he stood before his King and the Demon would devour it or add it to his Legions – either way the servant was the winner here.

[Witcher Wolf]

The glassy plain and ashen sky faded out to be replaced by the cobbles and barely glowing lanterns of Wyrden as Ssharan made his transition back to the mortal plane, the impromptu torture and resultant pleasure from his game had put a light spring in his step.

He reformed Shaw’s body and adjusted the man’s face until it was how he remembered it, the other two thugs were long gone and he was content for now to let them escape – they would no doubt report Shaw’s death to the Rat and that could be amusing.

Now Shaw continued on his journey and even began to whistle a merry little tune, he exuded a subconscious feeling of malice with every step however and the rest of his journey into Wyrden’s brighter heart was without further incident.

He moved onto a street that was lined with people where the brighter lamp-lights burnt the shadows away and the Demon world’s influence was tenuous at best, he gave a little snort as he felt the familiar trickle of his energy being drawn away and would now need to be careful with this shell lest it become too damaged and expose him to harm.

He passed several pairs of watchful eyes as he strolled confidently towards Three Turns Lane. At the corner of the lane lay the target of his night’s visit, a gambling den that was often frequented by the many visitors to the port.

It was a huge complex and looked like it could have been once an impregnable fortress; it had crenulations atop the thick stone walls surrounding it. In the centre it was the mass of a three storey converted warehouse, bright orange torches and lanterns flared against the pitch-dark night.

A small stone garden marked the obvious entry where a crude depiction of a naked woman served as a bronze fountain, from which water flowed freely coming from her cupped hands.

Shaw passed under an iron gate and smiled a little at the fountain, someone had chosen to immortalise the lady Varsil in metal – they hadn’t quite got her curved shape in proportion but he doubted the vain Demon would mind.

Several of the patrons were taking the night air oblivious to the danger that lurked past them as Shaw continued on into the warmth of the gambling den’s inner hallway; he appraised the room and noted the fancy woodwork and brass fittings.

A short man in an elegant tunic and breeches approached him with a disdainful look until he recognised the Fence, there might even have been a small smile on the attendants face as he wavered closer.

“Sir, you look somewhat out of place amidst the fine and gentle folk. What brings you to this house of luck?” Jahrul was an efficient and condescending man that lived to grovel and serve; he was only polite to Shaw because he happened to know of his connection to Karl Johanson otherwise known as the Rat.

“I need to see the Rat,” Shaw fixed Jahrul with a wan smile and sidled up to him breathing grotty breath. “I have news that he’ll want to hear.”

“Mr. Johanson may not want to see you.” Jahrul wheedled and then turned to speak to a subordinate, the woman bobbed a curtsey and vanished deeper into the building.

Several minutes passed in mute silence as Shaw twiddled his thumbs waiting for the answer from the Crime Lord, he spent his time regarding the paintings and fine art, appraising them all to keep in practise. He also appraised some of the young lovelies that drifted in and out of the various rooms of the gambling house.

The woman eventually returned and whispered into the attendant’s ear, Jahrul rolled his eyes and turned towards Shaw. “Mr. Johanson will see you now…follow Tarisa.”

Shaw tipped a nod to Jahrul and followed the slightly plump Tarisa down the corridor and into the gambling houses’ back room. Through another corridor they walked until they paused for a moment outside the Rat’s office before Tarisa stepped boldly in and announced.

“Shaw is here Mr. Johanson.”

Karl Johanson was a pig of a man totally unsuited to the name of the Rat; he was an obese Crime Lord who had grown fat off the spoils of his victims. That included reselling their homes when they were in debt and using them as livestock on the flesh-peddler’s markets.

He had tiny black eyes and an overly chubby face with jowls that slobbered when he talked like some deranged breed of dog. Johanson wore an overly large dark green ruffled shirt festooned with small opals and diamonds, sported a pair of ill-fitting leggings and a whip hung on a dark broad-belt which encircled his overly large girth.

He had a habit of spitting small flecks of spittle when he spoke and his teeth were yellow and rotten, he attracted women however and that was something many of his subordinates couldn’t fathom, there was no accounting for taste when it came to the flourish of golden ikons.

His office was a massive semi-circular room and festooned with the trophies of his many victories, some of them were as simple as a finger or hand of a debtor nailed to one of the many walls. Others were gaudy dressed attendees of both genders, those who had either come to serve the blubbery gambler or had been taken as collateral against one of his many fixed games.

[Witcher Wolf]

He gave the slim malnourished figure of Shaw the benefit of a genuine smile, the Fence was the one person Johanson actually liked among the many varied inhabitants of the port city. Shaw had made sure that the Rat’s ill gotten gains were quickly dealt with and the correct fee paid for both the disposal and re-location.

“Shaw,” he bubbled and moved his large body off a specially reinforced triple-cushioned chair. “I heard you were dead…this news almost broke my heart. I am so glad to see you are actually alive.”

This passed as a modicum of concern for the Rat and Shaw would have felt quite touched if he had cared. He played the part allotted to him however and smiled shyly at the big man.

“Rumours of my death were just that Rattie,” he cracked a winsome little grin and flopped into one of the many chairs. “You know your boy Thomas went a bit off the wall, you seen Loys and Drall lately?”

“They came in here screaming something about Demons.” The Rat snorted and put a hand on his heart. “Demons that took Thomas’ soul, they’re in the basement at the moment being re-educated to their detriment.”

Shaw knew exactly what that meant and his face went a little pale, the Demon inside him couldn’t afford to antagonise anyone here – he was too far away from the seat of Akas’ power to manifest anything but a simple defence should trouble occur, he kept his cards firmly to his chest.

“Oh dear,” there was a note of glee in his voice however and he shook his lanky frame as a tittering laugh burst forth. “He tried to extort the other day’s monies out of me Rattie!”

Johanson’s face dropped a little and his jowls wobbled, he wiped his forehead with a large black kerchief and looked to one of his subordinates. A podgy hand rose and Shaw could see the dance of diamonds on each stubby finger.

“I think,” The fat man giggled. “That Loys and Drall need to have their education stepped up a little, they need to be taught a terminal lesson. Don’t you agree little Shaw-shanks?”

In a rain of fine-spray spittle Shaw ducked his head to the side and nodded dumbly. “It wasn’t fair, they tried to cut me but I ran and then they try and make out I’m dead so’s they can rifle me shop!”

“There my little Shawie,” the Rat bumbled over and pressed a slobbered kiss to the other man’s forehead, had Shaw been human he’d have suppressed a shudder of revulsion. “We’ll make sure they pay…I can’t have my favourite lanky Fence being threatened by anyone but me.”

Shaw tried to look grateful and quailed a little as was expected; he breathed a tiny sigh of relief as the fat man wobbled off to sit down at his chair again. He watched the Rat’s subordinate leave the room and a tiny shark’s smile appeared for a moment while Johanson wasn’t looking; revenge was such a beautiful thing.

“Is that better then Shawie?” Johanson crooned a little at the other man. “We’re square right…no hard feelings for Rattie?” He waved a diamond-ring pinky at the fence and slid a box over. “Recompense...” His jowls quavered again.

“No hard feelings…and we’re square.” Shaw parroted in reply and took the box, he opened it and peered at the contents, there were a few rings and a number of tiny pendants within.

“To fence?”

“A gift,” Johanson’s large bulk moved again as he took the time to scratch his arse before picking up a large leg of chicken off a plate. “Got to keep the old body healthy haven’t we Shawie?”

“Oh yes!” Shaw had no idea what the fat man meant but humoured him regardless; he was trying to work out how best to tip the scales in his Master’s favour and a small germ of an idea grew – the seed planted at the back of his lurking mind.

Johanson devoured the chicken leg with a great deal of gusto; the sounds were not unlike Demon dogs gnawing on the bones of the damned. His spittle filled jaws overflowed as he drooled over the meat and the saliva mixed with the grease from the roasted leg.

“Rattie?” Shaw interrupted as the fat man tore strips from the leg with his teeth.

“Yes?” Johanson’s jaws opened and closed as he mulched his meal showing the result to everyone in the room.

“I think we have a problem,” Shaw chose his moment very carefully, with luck he might cause the obese gambler to choke on his meal and it would be another soul for the Bloodless One, it would have been a nice bonus.

“Go on Shawie?” The Rat’s mouth continued to caress the juicy leg and suckle against it.

In a fit of inspiration and genius the Demon masquerading before the Crime Lord snapped his mental fingers and burbled. “We have a new player wanting to take over the city and your operations.”

A gobbet of masticated meat shot forth from Johanson’s mouth as he almost choked at what Shaw said, he blinked in rapid succession and slammed the leg down onto the table top breaking the plate with a crack.

“What?”

“Now Rattie, don’t over-react. I am sure with your considerable resources and manpower we can deal with this newcomer.” Shaw soothed and inwardly smiled at the big man’s reaction; he waggled a finger towards Johanson’s bulk and added in a sly tone, “in one way or another?”

Johanson moved the slimy gob of chewed meat and spit onto the floor where it landed with a loud squelch; he looked at the fence and snorted a pained breath. “I’m listening Shawie, this better be good.”

Shaw quailed again under the harsh gaze and the tiny pitiless eyes of the Rat, he slunk from his seat and began to pace rapidly around.

“Have you heard of General Fenaric?”

“Who,” Johanson shook his head and then added with a spray of spit. “Who is that and what do they do?”

“I was talking to a fellow trader in the tavern and he told me that a small village in Vikart was attacked by Fenaric, he slaughtered them all. Now don’t you have agents out there in those lands, didn’t you have some people in Crow’s Foot?” Shaw set his face into a downcast expression and he wobbled his bottom lip again.

Johanson opened a large red ledger and thumbed through it. “Yes!” He grumbled. “I did…I had a couple of folk scoping it out Shawie, for possible inclusion in the flesh-peddling trade.”

Shaw grinned as he turned his head away from the big man. “Oh dear…”

“Go on?”

“Where was I? Ah yes,” Shaw wheedled and continued his pacing steps drawing his hands behind his back. “Fenaric butchered everyone in Crow’s Foot but found some evidence of your Empire here Rattie…course he’s got his eyes on Wyrden as a possible base to invade the rest of this country.”

“That damn bastard!” Johanson growled and slammed his fist on the table again. “Who does this horse fornicating son of a dog think he is?”
“I was getting to that,” Shaw licked his lips and ploughed on with a conspiratorial tone. “Fenaric is the bloody red right hand of Rhage…it’s at this bugger’s urging that he’s knocking off people left right and centre, for some bloomin great ritualistic slaughter…and the worst part is Rattie, because you’re so famous and popular as a lord of illegal dealings, word is…you’re the prize.”

“I’m the what?” Johanson spat again and went into a long coughing fit until one of his subordinates slapped him hard on the back. “What bloody prize?”

Shaw put his hands up in a placating gesture and he faltered a little under Johanson’s black pin-hole stare. “Such a soul as yours Rattie…well…so corrupt and delicious to thems that knows, you’d be a sweet pickin indeed.” He couldn’t help himself as he spoke he realised the truth of the matter, the Rat would be a perfect gift for Akas.

Johanson was terrified and flattered both at the same time and he lurked at the back of his desk mulling this entire situation over. He nervously tapped a finger on his wobbling chin and then looked at Shaw again, the fear evident in his voice.

“What can I do?”

“You can fight Rattie!” Shaw enthused and stopped pacing. “You can form an alliance between the gang heads and force them to fight when Fenaric comes!” He clapped his hands together and whipped over to Johanson’s table. “Approach the Anshada and enlist there help to use…” He said the next word quietly and carefully. “Magic...”

Johanson’s eyes went wide, he’d liked the Fence’s plan right up to the point he mentioned the ‘M’ word. More fear than Shaw had ever seen in the big man’s eyes crept to their edges and then superimposed itself right over his pupils.

“The gang heads I can do. But the Anshada…no…I can’t and I won’t!” He blurted out and slammed his fist again. “You can ask them, not I!”

“Alright Rattie, keep your hair on mate.” Shaw placated and looked to his so-called friend and partner in crime. “I’ll do it for you, because you know I love you like a big brother.”

“Soft sod,” Johanson said quietly and shook his head. “We’ll be the death of each other if we go that soft.” He joked and took a big breath that sent him into another coughing fit; when it had subsided he moved his girth a little. “I’ll talk to the gang heads and you make the arrangements with the Anshada…”

“Consider it done Rattie.” Shaw smiled encouragingly at the other man and inwardly beamed as his plan had hooked the Crime Lord right in. “Do you want me to do it tomorrow, it’s dark out there and I’m awful scared after being troubled by Thomas.”


“I can do no less for my friend.” Johanson nodded and looked to one of his servants; he beckoned the woman over and whispered to her.

“Thank you.” Shaw burbled in a pleased kind of way and took his seat shaking a little, mostly from excitement.

“I can do no less for a firm friend and such a loyal one.” Johanson wiped his brow again and heaved his bulk upwards. “Jadsvia will take you to your room and if you want her to stay, just say eh?” He waggled a thick bushy eyebrow at Shaw and added coyly. “She’s a bit fond of you and thinks you could do with a nice relaxing time after tonight’s troubles – on the house.”

Shaw pondered this and thought of Varsil. This woman wasn’t like that Demon lord but she was appealing, thin and elegant in a slender shape with long wavy dark hair. Her accentuated red lips and kohl-rimmed dark eyes were a trap to ensnare the lust of men, or women.

It could be amusing to see what this frail shell was capable of: an experiment in human and Demon relations. Ssharan decided he wouldn’t kill her as that would be terribly impolite upon a first meeting, perhaps if he tired of her later on he could accidentally devour her soul and claim she’d fled Johanson’s lair.

He followed and cast a wickedly amused glance to the fat Johanson as he left sweeping into a stumbling half-bow.

[Witcher Wolf]

Chapter Nine: Divergent Journeys

As Akas’ servant learned of the pleasures of the flesh with an eager and willing tutor the threads of fate wound inexorably across the face of Hestonia. The Old Gods surveyed the many lands with jaundiced eyes and declared their policy of non-intervention; they had decided at long last the world could burn in the dark heart of the cosmos for all they cared.

Day and night wove through the tapestry of many lives and brought with it the shifting change of fortunes and goals. Wyrden remained as ever in the centre of all happenings upon the planet, more so now as Fenaric himself turned his eyes as Shaw had predicted upon the port city and licked his calloused lips.

He had embarked upon a deviant campaign across the rest of Vikart sending out his considerable forces to all corners of that blighted land. He left only Melanchan and Jakarta standing to use as his headquarters in this bloody swathe allowing the port to function under his command.

The wheel of time rolled on and Fenaric’s hand was felt over the next week as he imposed a metal-clad butchery to send more souls screaming into the arms of his Demon lord: Rhage.

The Mist Reaver neared Wyrden at the end of her five day journey and the occupants of Talon’s unique ship were ignorant of the other plans that flew by as if they were embers from a bonfire. Over these five days the port city itself played host to the machinations of Akas’ servant Ssharan as he manipulated and controlled even the Crime Lord, Karl Johanson.

The Bloodless One continued his game to distract the seductive and domineering Varsil keeping her busy and her mind off the true purpose. The lady Nightshade remained ever present in the dark nightmares of those people of the planet; her hand had not wavered from the course of drawing the spirits of the dreamers into her dark web.

Only Rhage openly flaunted his position and his plans, thus angering not only the Demon King but drawing the attention of the Karnate herself. The new goddess that had still to show her reasons for intervening in the affairs of mortals, a deadly sin amongst the Old Gods – but as many would soon find out, Karnate cared for nothing except her own gratification.

So now it came down to several paths that stretched off into the distance their end unknown and their resolution would be a trial for all involved. A time would come that tested Demon and mortal alike; bringing with it the very change that people of this rocky prison feared the most.

While Talon’s ship burned brightly in the midnight sky above the port moving slowly towards the dock in a gleam of reflected starlight, Wyrden drifted once more closer to the Demon world. Its shutters were drawn and people fled to the brighter heart of the city abandoning their favourite haunts for the closeness of each other – a thing almost unheard of.

On board another sky borne vessel two earlier pawns that had been placed upon a new road, journeyed to their final destination. How they had come to be on the Crimson Shadow was a matter between them and the mysterious occupants of the ship, the Anshada.

They were being taken to the seat of this magical cabal’s power for inclusion into the dark order. It was their choice and they had made it upon viewing the destruction wrought at Crow’s Foot, losing their friends had driven them into a terrible choice and they knew once they opened the door it could not be closed.

Gwen and Josef were once simple folk with little to worry about, but their chance encounter with the Kelan knife-fighter had sent a ripple into their lives they could not have hoped to escape. Without Amber’s intervention they would have died at the hands of bored mercenaries and their bones would have been picked clean by carrion birds.

By this near-heroic act the woman had unknowingly altered their fate and amused the god of such, who lay down a card or two from his deck and slipped a Joker from his sleeve. None could escape their destiny or their final resolution, but the journey could be made more amusing to some.

In truth even the New Gods were as bad as the old and they played upon the mortal world as if it were their own. The machinations and plans of the Demons had however upset the apple cart of their game and forced them to re-evaluate their position and while the Old deigned to ignore the coming troubles, the New Gods met it with an eager passion.

Yet try as they might to control and influence others upon the face of the world, they could only make slight alterations to certain folk, who believed that their fate and destiny lay in their own hands. As most magical teachings imparted in Hestonia one must truly believe for something to happen.

If a man believed he was beyond the Gods then they had no influence upon that man’s life, they could try but in the end they would fail miserably. Thus the Shaper had imbued his world with a self-controlling balance even in his most dire moment of madness.

Heroes would come and go, try, fail and die without mention leaving loved ones to wallow in the pain and pity. While those that walked over each other and buried the knives of betrayal into their closest companion’s backs found the ladder to success was easier to climb.

Demons were considered a child’s tale by the younger bloods of Hestonia, something to keep them in line and a fallacy, a creation of the elders to form a system of control. They viewed the Demon world with the same loathing they had for the temples and priests of the many Gods.

It was all a lie to them.

Gwen and Josef had been similar until Crow’s Foot when they chose to ignore the warnings of their hearts and delve into the darker shadows of the world. The Anshada that met them outside of the ruined village had appeared from nowhere, as if she knew the very choice that they had to make.

They would have never gone with her had they known who she was, with her short white hair and milk-white eyes. She was the woman that had freed Akas from his stone seal prison and caused Hestonia to bleed as if it were miscarrying.

Her piece was now in play and she wove her own web of corruption and deceit, whispering of the glories and power that could bind Demons and force even the Lord of Madness and Despair to his knees – they listened to her honeyed tones like suckling lambs.

Now she had brought them to the Anshada elders and her rewards would be tenfold if Gwen and Josef passed the final barrier and found a place within the meddling shadows of the order.

The Order’s complex was lain down to provide the sorcerous dabblers with protection from their experiments. A large pyramid like structure dominated the centre of three rings of buildings, all of them devoid of light and all of them silent day or night.

They dominated the north east portion of the city and sat there is brooding contemplation, guards posted upon high walls blocked exit and entry – they did not interact with the rest of Wyrden and they allowed no other to enter.

Only their sky ships danced over this dismal circle and flew like black bats to dock upon a twisted tower, leaving as quickly as they came and shimmering off into the night sky. During the day when Wyrden burns the brightest the Anshada vessels were curiously absent from the flight paths of the city.

Now the Crimson Dawn settled upon the edge of the tower and unfolded a brassy ramp to lock into place. The ship’s sleek galleon like shape provided a stark backdrop against the twisted sky. One lantern burned at the end of the gantry and a door opened in the side of the dark hulled vessel.

Marisa swept out of the ship and stormed across the rooftop of the tower with quick-angry steps heading to the attendant in a furious gait. “Why was my ship told to dock at this inferior port?” She seethed.

“It is upon the order of the elders’ lady Marisa.” He muttered and swept a hand through his greasy brown hair, it hung in short falls around his shoulders. He was dressed in a rain-proof cloak and worked against a small winch.

Marisa eyed him and shook her head furiously disturbing the man with her milk-white eyes, she decided he was of no further use and stormed back to the gantry. She was a short woman with a shock of white hair and little in the way of curves and muscles – her body vanished into the all-encompassing blackness of her robes.

Gwen was the first to leave the vessel and she shivered in the midnight air, she was now clad in the same black robes and only her eyes were visible blinking at the change from the interior of the sky ship.

“What now?”

“You will be silent until told to speak.” Marisa hissed and looked past the woman to the rest of the vessel; the blackness almost seemed to be alive within.

Josef followed and put his hands behind him moving in a stately manner towards the domineering white-haired Marisa. He stopped a few feet from her and remained in mute silence.

Gwen floundered a little and bit back a small fresh wave of tears, she had followed Josef without knowing the enormity of her decision or the price that it would take from them both.

“Follow.” Marisa commanded and swept away with a long gait leading them down a set of sickening stairs, the view twisted and turned as the powerful Anshada drew them deeper into the complex.

Gwen longed to talk to Josef but since he’d met Marisa the man had grown distant and almost cold to his wife in a short amount of time, she wondered if he’d an infatuation with the white haired woman.

Marisa had studied them both and the man she found to possess a stronger spark towards the Order, something about him gave her the impression he had an important role to play. She could care less about the shrew following them and had indeed toyed with the idea of seducing Josef just to wound his wife.

As they made their way down the tower and onto the ground the complex grew like a monster about them, paths leading outwards from this tall spire seemed to vanish into a heart-stopping eternity.

The very construction of the Anshada’s domain was at its core a giant sigil of magical energy, when viewed from the lofty heights of tower or sky ship it was obvious to those who understood such things that they had built this complex collection of buildings to channel the weave of the world.

“Oh great lady of dark shadows and my saviour,” Josef said quietly to gain Marisa’s attention; he had learned quickly the woman was not immune to flattery.

Gwen bit down a wave of revulsion and shuddered under her robes, she tried to step closer to Josef but he walked to Marisa’s side and stood there expectantly.

“Yes?” Her milk-white eyes turned upon him and she did not blink.

“I have questions later; would you honour me with their answer?”

Marisa smiled at the man under his hood and said flippantly. “I would be glad to, privately,” she gave a slow smile at Gwen and added. “We will speak in my chambers.”

“But,” Gwen protested and earned a look of contempt from both people, she looked suddenly as if she might flee the scene and her legs trembled.

“I told you to be silent!” Marisa’s impatience with this woman was plainly written upon her face and she rounded on Gwen with a raised hand, sending her backwards from the impact to collapse sobbing on the stone floor of the Anshada domain.

“Weakness,” Josef said and turned his face from his wife, harshly.

“We do not tolerate the weak here,” Marisa agreed and looked to the man, a quirk of an idea flashing in her eyes. “How much do you want to join the Order, Josef?”

“More than anything,” he said and looked at the woman, almost longingly.

“Anything,” Marisa crooned in white-hot tones, not quite a question, and more an order.

Gwen could scarcely believe her ears and she looked at Josef with imploring eyes, begging him to turn away from this madness.

“And what would you do to enter the Anshada?” Marisa looked down at the sprawled woman triumphantly. “Mine.” She mouthed at Gwen.

Gwen began to cry again and as if Wyrden sensed her discomfort small drops of rain began to drift from the sky.

Marisa looked away and hid a sly smile from them both, she examined a long finger with scant a care for the woman’s sobbing now. When she turned to Josef her voice was soothing but as cold as ice, weaving with it the threads of Varsil’s dominion.

“Who do you want more?” She purred in dulcet harmony stepping to within an inch of the simple man’s embrace. “Choose: your weak-willed wife who is only good for dropping children…or a woman that can shape the world with her hands?”

If it were not for Varsil’s talons in his heart Josef would have driven a knife into Marisa’s breast for even suggesting such a thing, but his heart was enwrapped and enraptured by the wicked seductions of the Demon.

He looked to Marisa and then to Gwen seeming to judge both of them and found his wife lacking in every aspect, years of love and the bond of marriage severed in a heart-rending moment of lustful betrayal.

“I want no weakness.” He said to Marisa and planted his foot firmly under Gwen’s ribs toppling her with a scream over and over; he kept on kicking as if possessed.

Marisa smiled inwardly and put a finger on his arm as he drove his boot into the howling woman on the floor, sundering her pretty face with a single stomp until the leather was wet with spilled blood and caught in her once lustrous hair.

“Let me dispose of this obstacle my brave Josef?” She crooned again and looked to the beaten woman, who was now barely alive with broken ribs and a fractured skull. Her eyes revealed the fabric of the world coming asunder and the shape of the Taker formed a step away from completing his work.

The Anshada would deny this creature his prize and snapped her fingers up while her bent and wicked mind called forth a tapestry she had been slowly weaving as she brought about Gwen’s demise.

The dark wings that flowed in ragged tatters from the Demon stopped beating and his featureless face turned to regard Marisa, studying her actions with a curious intent. He could sense the draw of magic as she bound the threads to the twitching gasping woman and growled.

“Mine!” He snarled through the ether and whipped his wings again several times. “I will not be denied.”

Marisa in her confident manner ignored the Demon of death and laughed as she pulled the threads of fire, ash and heat towards Gwen’s body tying them into every fibre of the stricken woman’s being.

At last she unleashed the thread known as the catalyst and there was a bright burning light that caused Josef to shield his eyes and the Taker to scream in frustration. A cold chill passed over Marisa as she now had to face the consequences of such a blatant use of magic.

As Gwen’s body burst into embers of roaring fire and heat scattering her like glowing ash to the four winds, Marisa staggered a little and dropped to her knees.

Josef moved to assist her but she snarled at him in a pained voice.

“Get back!”

The Taker screamed once more and turned his back on both the woman and man, snapping his wings again and lurking on the edges of Marisa’s perception – waiting for her to lose her battle against the draw of the Demons that pulled at her soul. He had been denied Gwen’s spirit and his anger seethed against the dark sky.

But Marisa was no fool she had survived the rebirth of Akas and her magic served another purpose, part of her tapestry had caught the dead woman’s soul and now offered it as an exchange in return for the power she had been granted by the Shaper.

The balance was maintained in a macabre manner and the twisted logic of her plan worked like a charm. Marisa felt the claws against her spirit relax and she brushed them off with a callous disregard for the danger she had been in.

Quickly she stood from the ground and dusted off her robes turning towards the Taker and offering the Demon a wider smile.

“Not today carrion.” She laughed and looked towards Josef. “You will make a fine member of our Order and as my apprentice, lover and student we will unleash everything that shrew tried to suppress.”

The Taker growled and vanished into the ether called by another violent demise, beating his wings and vowing that when her time came he would personally see to it that Marisa suffered beyond death and languished in his domain for eternity.