Chaos of Choice: Chapter Thirteen

 

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Chapter Thirteen

“There is real evil in this world. Pure and unadulterated evil. Such manifestations have been seen in history in the likes of Gildon the Deceiver, and can be seen in the many monsters that roam our lands. But the evil I see daily is not the Drowners, Necrophages, Grenlocks, or other foul beast that I am hired to kill, but the murderers, rapists and molesters that infest our world. Too often have I witnessed a child molester be acquitted because the victim is too scared to speak up. Too often have I seen families slaughtered and the killer walk free because he was hired by a Lord. Too often have I seen rapists walk away from the law with a smile on their face because they are the son of a nobleman and their victim was only a poor village girl. I have seen preachers scream that we should place our faith in The Five and our sins will be absolved through repentance, but those same preachers later are found in bed with a crying child. It is not the beasts in the wilds that are evil, it is us, we are the monsters.”  

-Killing Monsters by the Helwyr Drizzen of The Dale

 

 

Year 3630, the Fifth Age, the twentieth day of Summer

 

The sound was distant at first, but it grew louder until it was banging in his ears. It was the sound of wood and chains and rocks. As his mind cleared he realised that he was lying down, but strangely the ground kept bumping him around. Lieut tried to open his eyes but his mind was still too addled by the Hex Orinno had cast on him. Lieut tried to move, but again it was little use, his limbs were heavy and his movement sluggish.

Stubbornly he growled away the extreme lethargy and tried to move to a sitting position. But just as he moved there was great jolt and he felt himself fall. His flight ended quickly with the impact of rocks and dirt. Suddenly he felt a tug on his arms and he began to be dragged across the rocks. Out of desperation he forced his heavy eyes to open, and his legs to move to make him stand, so as to not be ripped to pieces by the rocks.

As he started to get his feet under him he felt a strong hand grab him under the shoulder and help him to his feet. As soon as he found his feet he shrugged away the help stubbornly. But without the support he nearly tumbled back to the ground. Somehow he kept his feet and soldiered on, stumbling over the rocks. As his mind cleared and his eyes adjusted he came to realise the predicament he was in.

His wrists were in magickal chains that were attacked to a wagon in front of him. To his right both Vythe and Fairris were in a similar arrangement, and they were not the only ones. The convoy was at least five wagons long, ahead of him were two wagons where the slavers were resting and at the wagons behind were more victims of Barnore and Orinno, similarly chained as he was.

“How long was I out?” Lieut asked Vythe.

“Two days,” replied Vythe solemnly, “Fairris and I were beginning to worry for you.”

Lieut looked to Fairris, and noticed that her face was bruised and beaten. She had a black and swollen cheek, and her lip had been split as well as her eyebrow. Fairris looked away when she noticed him eyeing her.

“What happened?” Lieut asked seriously.

“Barnore was true to his word when he said he would make me less pretty,” Fairris replied stiffly, “Orinno joined in as well.”

“He didn’t. . .”

“No,” Fairris interrupted him, “They only beat me and wondered if Zirarien bled and felt pain like a human.”

Lieut clenched his jaw angrily and balled his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white from lack of blood. Why was he so angry? He wondered as he tugged at the magickal chains angrily.

“It is no use,” Vythe remarked dryly, “The half-elf Magi has used a Hex to bind the magickal chain to the wood. Cursed Hexes and Void magicks, there is a reason why it has been an illegal form of magicks for nearly three thousand years, ever since the dark times of Gildon.”

“That is why his spell hit you, Lieut,” Vythe continued, “The Sphere of Void stopped your Anther Crystals from working, but such an anti-magicks globe does not stop the use of similar Void spells and Hexes. And the same cursed sphere is around us and the other captive’s wagons.”

“Kill the Magi, break the void sphere,” Lieut muttered, his jaw firm.

“There is no escape Lieut,” Vythe replied in surprise, “We will be sold as slaves in Lancer several days from now.”

“There is always an escape,” Lieut said back, “If you have a will to do something, and the means to do it, there is always a way to see it done.”

“What means is there?” Vythe scoffed bitterly, “Your sword has been taken from you, and unless you know a Hex spells or other Void magicks more powerful than Orinno’s you cannot escape, and that is assuming you will be able to connect to the Fog through the void sphere, which I cannot even do. There is no escape.”

Lieut turned to Vythe, his eyes cold, “Watch me. Before you realise I will be free of these chains, I will have my sword and Barnore, Orinno and any other slaver that gets in my way will be dead.”

Vythe shrunk back from him then, a concerned look on his face.

Shortly the wagons pulled off of the main road and down a grassy decent to a wide green clearing next to a flowing river. The wagons all stopped and the slavers began to jump down and begin to set up camp.

Lieut waited patiently, his breathing steady, his expression calm and his mind focused on the slaughter that was to come. Just then a pair of slavers moved towards him, chatting merrily between them.

“Bastards,” Lieut called to them impassively and spat on the closest slaver.

“You scum,” the man swore at him, “I see you are awake just in time to get your face smashed in.”

The man rushed towards him, fists balled. As the slaver was about to swing, Lieut struck first, kicking the inside of the man’s leading knee, making him drop to the ground. Just as the man fell Lieut’s hand shot out and slammed the slaver in the throat, sending him falling to the ground, unable to breath.

The slaver’s companion looked at Lieut in shock before drawing his long sword and swinging at him.

Lieut smiled as he stepped under the swing, letting the blade be stopped by the chain that connected to the wagon. As the sword hit the chain Lieut quickly grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him forward, driving the tip of the sword into the wood of the wagon just beside the chian and slamming the slavers head into the side of the cart. The impact of the sword split the wood and broke the Hex conjuration that bound the magickal chain to the wagon.

As soon as the chains dissipated he ripped the sword free from the wood and sprinted off, looking for the man who had claimed his sword. Luck was with him, for the very next slaver he saw had his sword, but the large man also saw him.

“Alarm,” the large slaver screamed as his hand went to the hilt of Lieut’s sword.

As Lieut sprinted in he quickly reversed the grip he had on his acquired long sword, anticipating the slavers attacks. As predicted the larger man brought his sword down in a powerful cleave. Lieut dropped to one knee as the sword came for his head. Easily he deflected the heavy swing and spun up from the ground, slicing the inside of the slavers thigh in the process. As he completed the lightning fast pivot he reversed the grip on his sword again and drove the tip deep into the slavers chest.

Lieut let go of the long sword and ripped his own blade from the dying slavers hands, kicking the man to the ground.

It happened so quickly that only now had the rest of the camp realised that one of the prisoners had escaped. By now Lieut was racing towards Barnore, his eyes burning with blood lust.

Barnore saw him coming, but it was too late, Lieut was already upon the slaver. As the man turned wide eyed towards him, he swung the blunt edge of his sword into the man’s crotch. In the same momentum he let the crosspiece slam into Barnore’s face, shattering the man’s nose. With a twist of his wrist the razor sharp edge ripped across Barnore’s gut, opening skin and spilling entrails. As he finished he slammed his heel into the slaver’s chest, sending the man tumbling to the ground, his intestines covering the grass around him.

A scream from the side tore his attention from the satisfaction of the kill, and he looked to see Orinno looking on with tears streaming down his face.

“You,” Orinno screamed, his sadness turning to anger. “I will rip the skin from your flesh, I will make you blood boil and your eyes melt. I will make you feel the pain of a thousand tortured men until you beg for death.”

“Best get started than,” Lieut interrupted coldly, causing the Magi to scream again.

Orinno’s face was white with anger as he sent a torrent of Hexes and energy waves towards Lieut. But each time Lieut just slapped them aside with his sword, never taking his eyes from the slaver. Orinno was clearly not thinking, seeing they were both outside the influence of the Void field, for the sickly half-elf just screamed all the more and sent more Hex and Void spells towards him. Each time Lieut simply slapped them aside and let his sword absorb the Fog within the magicks.

By now Lieut could feel the energy tingle within his sword, and see the fierce glow of the Runes down the flat of the blade. He focused his mind into the sword and made the accumulated Fog build into a singular attack.

When the next Hex came at him he knocked it high, absorbing the Fog and forcing the energies in the blade to release. The edge of his sword glowed white hot as he quickly swung it down. As his sword hit the ground a burning gold light burst forth from the arch his sword made and raced towards Orinno. The blade of energy ripped through the grass and dirt and plummeted into Orinno. The Magi managed to cross his arms in front of his face in some form of defence, but it mattered very little. As the blade of light hit Orinno the man exploded in a shower of blood and bone.

Lieut sucked in a deep breath and sat down on the lush green grass. He could hear that the other slaves had realised their freedom when Orinno’s magicks ended with the Magi’s life, and had now begun to rip apart the remaining slavers with whatever weapons they could find.

He stretched the stiffness from his neck and rubbed a hand across his brow. In truth he knew that he should not have used his weapon skills on such a meaningless target, and he knew that it would be some time until enough Fog had been absorbed for him to use it again. But he had got enormous satisfaction out of seeing Orinno explode. A smile came to his face as he noticed the bits left of the Magi littered around the small crater, and his smile widened when he heard the dying coughs of Barnore behind him.

As Lieut stood up and returned his sword to its clips the fighting had ended and he saw Vythe and Fairris jog towards him.

“No escape, right Vythe?” Lieut smirked.

“I could not be happier to be proven wrong,” Vythe smiled back, but his expression soon changed as his looked around the area. “What happened to the Magi?”

“He’s around,” Lieut replied with a smile, “Over there, a bit of him here.”

“I guess you are not going to say how he exploded,” Vythe said with a curious expression.

Lieut shook his head and shrugged.

“The bruises on your face seemed to have rapidly healed, Fairris,” Lieut remarked as he looked to the Blood Elf.

“One of the other slaves is good with healing magicks,” smiled Fairris, even though the split skin could still be seen on her lip and above her eye, and one of her cheeks was still a bit swollen. “Come on Lieut, the other captives wish to thank you.”

“No,” Lieut shook his head and began to head back to the road.

“Wait, Lieut,” both Fairris and Vythe exclaimed as they raced to catch up with him.

“The night is nearly upon us,” Vythe protested, “I do not understand.”

“Stay if you wish,” Lieut replied as he pushed through the trees as he walked up the incline to the road. “The road is flat, there will be no trouble walking at night.”

“Are you so opposed to being thanked?” asked Fairris in surprise.

“I did not do it for them,” Lieut quickly replied, striding up the last couple of metres to the dusty road.

“Well I am going to stay the night,” Vythe declared as they all stood on the road, “I had never any intentions of going to Port Na’brath anyway, and in fact was going to head for Lancer. Though I am glad it will not be as a slave now.”

Lieut stopped and turned to Vythe, “As you wish,” he decided, “But I will have you teleport me now, if that is the case.”

“Alright, but it will have to wait until tomorrow,” Vythe replied and Lieut narrowed his eyes. “It has been a long day Lieut, I have been walking for miles. I am tired and drained of energy. Wait here until tomorrow.”

“No,” Lieut cut in, “I will not be delayed any longer. If you want to stay so be it. But I will not linger. Someone in Midway will no doubt be able to teleport me the rest of the way. Farewell.”

“Wait, stop,” Fairris yelled before either of them could move. “Is that it?”

“Is what it?” Lieut asked.

“After what we have been through together we are just going to part ways just like that?” Fairris asked in disbelief.

“People come and go,” Lieut replied simply, “I never asked for company.”

“That is what I thought,” Vythe nodded, “We were just a means to an end for you. You travelled with us from Galleraze because it suited you, just like now. You killed the slavers to free yourself, if it had only been Fairris and I that had been captured you would have done nothing, am I right?”

“Then why would he save me by carrying me to the Monastery?” Fairris asked Vythe before Lieut could reply.

Vythe shook his head, “Because Lieut thought I would teleport him no doubt.”

“Have you both finished?” Lieut asked seriously, “I did what I did for my own reasons, none of which I feel obliged to tell either of you. So, now I am leaving for Port Na’brath, if either of you wish to come fine. If not, farewell.”

With that he turned from Vythe and Fairris and walked briskly towards the west. He heard Fairris call after him to stop, but he paid the calls no heed and he continued walking, his eyes unblinking.

Not several minutes later as Inüer glared him in the face Lieut heard the light steps of someone running to catch up with him. Glancing over his shoulder he could see that it was Fairris, and only Fairris. Soon she was beside him, breathing heavily from the run and they exchanged looks but neither of them said anything, and they walked side by side into the setting sun.

It was soon night and without a word uttered they both moved from the road and under the branches of some trees. Fairris lit a fire from the dry wood and around it they both sat, staring into the flames.

Lieut rested up against the trunk of a tree, his sword across his lap.

“Why did you follow me?” Lieut asked Fairris curiously.

Fairris looked up from the fire, a surprised look on her face before she looked away and shrugged.

“I still aim to be your equal in battle,” Fairris shrugged, looking at the fire.

“No,” Lieut shook his head, “By now you realise that skill comes through practise, and you could have just as easily sparred with Vythe. Why did you follow me?”

“Why does it matter?” Fairris quickly replied, “You never speak of your motives, so why should I speak of mine?”

“Fair enough.”

Fairris shot him an exasperated look, but she did not say anything and turned over to go to sleep.

Lieut dismissed it and turned back to the fire to get lost in its hypnotising dance. He would have looked to the sky and watched the Summerset Aurora but it could only be seen in the mountains. So for the entirety of the night he sat and watched as the fire slowly died and the dawn slowly came.

The next day brought with it a strong wind that blew in from the west, flying along the wide valley between the Gaia Mountains and the Yineth Grasslands. As Lieut and Fairris set out that morning the wind was blowing squarely in their faces, making them hunch into the walk as they strode along. As what seemed to becoming a usual thing he and Fairris had once again fought it out that morning in a mock battle, and as usual Fairris was easily beaten.

Later that morning they came to the crossroad where the Gulisian Highroad met the Boarder Pass. The Pass was a stretch of flat and dusty road that ran along the border between Cientrasis and Gaianaus, and led to the Lawless city of Lancer in the east. But Lieut and Fairris were heading in the opposite direction to Lancer, and their sights were set on the western horizon.

“We are now moving from the wild lands and into the Endress Vale,” Fairris remarked casually as they moved through the crossroad. “The Forest of Endre is to the south,” she pointed to the line of trees to the left, “And this whole valley is patrolled by the soldiers of Midway. Well, to this crossroad at least. Will any patrols be a problem, Lieut?”

Lieut shook his head, “I doubt it. What makes you think they will?”

“I just assumed,” Fairris shrugged, “Considering you have admitted to being caught up in the affairs of the Regional Commander as well as me, and we all escaped the Gaia Penitentiary.”

“If any try and arrest me I will kill them and be on my way,” Lieut replied off-handily. “They will quickly realise that they live longer if they do not try and stop me.”

Fairris shot Lieut a shocked expression, but she did not say anything and they continued on down the road.

This stretch of the Boarder Pass was a lot different than on the other side of junction they had just passed. Here the lands were cultivated and farmed, green pastures and rows of crops filled the wide vale, right up to the edges of the Endre Forest. Little villages occasionally met them along the road, but they were filled with suspicious eyes and turned shoulders.

Lieut realised that even if he was inclined to stay the night in a soft bed he would find no welcome in any of these hamlets. The folk here had grown naturally cautious of wanderers, which only seemed the normal thing to do living so close to the wilds.

He also passed a few tired faced guards, but they gave him nothing more than a passing concerned eyed. No doubt most of them were retired soldiers, who were clinging onto the only form of control they could. It was likely that if any sort of fight would occur they would be less than useless, and would turn tail and run like all the others. It was also evidence to the fact that the Regional Commander must have kept his escape from the prison along with Fairris and Vythe a secret for he saw no recognition in the eyes of any of the guards, nor any wanted posters on the village billboards.

Lieut and Fairris came across a couple of these quiet townships with quaint names and populations less than one hundred. They both agreed that it would be better not to linger within them, even if it were only to stop for a rest.

Around midday they moved from the road to find some shelter from the gusty winds underneath a wide bushy tree where Lieut sat down on one of the gnarled roots, and Fairris occupied another.

“Did you know that this land used to be occupied by Halflings?” Fairris asked after she finished a mouthful of food.

Lieut took a swallow of water and shook his head.

Fairris nodded, “It did, long before Midway and Lancer were ever built. It was called The Vale during that time, and all the farmland you see was worked and harvested by the little folk. Remnants of the underground housing are more evident towards the foothills of the Gaia Mountains to the north.”

“Why did they leave?” Lieut asked, though he was not that interested.

“It is said they left when the Gulisien Highroad came through and the Boarder Pass and Road to Lancer were paved,” Fairris replied, “The history book would say that it was because they did not like sharing their lands, and were angry that wanderers constantly travelled through it. But that is not true. They were forced out by humans, big folk from Midway who wanted the rich farming lands for their own, or ruffians from Lancer who wanted a Halfling sized slave, or for the mere fact that the Halflings are peace-loving folk and were easy to push around. They left because of human greed.”

“I did not think that teachings in Elestarl would encompass the history of Halflings,” Lieut remarked.

Fairris looked away, “My father taught me,” she replied softly, “Before he and my mother were killed.”

“We should go.”

“Wait,” Fairris said suddenly, and she summoned a Fog dagger to he hands.

Fairris than turned to the tree and began carving a small symbol into the bark.

Lieut noticed that there were half a dozen other carving in the trunk, all different and many faded.

“This is a Wander Tree,” said Fairris in reply to his questioning look, “Travellers and Rangers should always carve their initials or coat of arms into the bark, it is good luck, and is a tradition.”

Lieut looked at her and shook his head before looking at the mark she had just finished carving into the bark. It was simply her name in elven with Lieut’s underneath.

“Even the Essinendeür Rangers have marked this tree,” Fairris said, pointing to an ancient marking in the wood, “I suppose you know who they are.”

“Mercenaries,” Lieut shrugged as they left the bows of the tree and walked back onto the road.

“They are now,” Fairris said as she caught up with him, “But they were not always so. When they were first started by the Ranger Renith in the Second Age their purpose was just to aid the simple folk and protect them from beasts in the wild, asking only for a warm bed and a hot meal in return. But now they have become corrupt and greedy like the rest of the world, with excessive prices that pay more for the name than the service.”

Lieut absently nodded his head, not really been listening to what Fairris was saying. Fairris seemed to realise that he had not been paying attention to her and fell quiet.

The rest of the day continued on in much the same fashion as it had done. They passed a few farming homesteads and one or two villages, and every time were met by suspicious folk. By the evening the wind was still blowing strongly into their faces and sending waves through the long grass on the side of the road.

That night they decided it would be best just to camp at the side of the road and save them the hassle that would no doubt come if they tried to rent a room in one of the villages.

In the night the wind died down and clouds rolled down from the mountains, bringing light rain with them. It was lucky that they had camped beneath a cluster of trees, but even so they were soaked by the morning.

Heavy clouds lingered throughout the day, with distant rumbles of thunder to the north and the occasional flash of lightning. Lieut and Fairris continued their swift walk along the Border Pass through the drizzle, finding shelter when they could.

**********************************************

Friends come and go it seems, at least in Lieut’s mind. How will he fair when its just him and Fairris? What will happen to Vythe? Find out next week.

Be sure to check out the previous chapters on my profile if you haven’t already, and if you simply cannot wait until next week to read what happens next you can get Chaos of Choice  from any good online bookstore in both kindle and paperback editions.

Thanks for reading.

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