Dark Age Of Camelot: Blood of Enemies and Friends

Chapter 13: Blood of Enemies and Friends, Part 1

The ground seemed an almost impenetrable white. There were trees, but the green upon them was also shrouded in the uniform color. This was Yggdra Forest, and though this was my first time ever here, I knew that hunting in this region posed a unique danger. This area was outside the safety of the uncontested borders, and it was just as possible to encounter enemies from the other Realms as to come across native beasts.

I was out here with a small hunting party. Only one of them was amongst us for the first time, and I felt it odd that I hesitated to consider the others friends. I would stand by their side and throw myself in danger to protect them, but I was so immersed in a sense of self-defense that I would not let anyone into my heart. It was duty, then, and not love, that orchestrated my actions.

I had received a message from the House of Loki, and it had taken some time to reach me. I had gone back to Gna Faste for a respite from my self-imposed exile, and the tavernkeeper had told me I had a message. I was quite perplexed. The simple writing explained that they knew of my duel with Fulnia, and they placed no blame on me nor intentions of punishment. I was relieved. I also did not miss that they seemed to know exactly where I was.

So I had resumed something of a normal existence, and as such, I had come out to Yggdra with these companions in order to engage in some hunting in effort to continue climbing up the mountain of learning that stood before me.

We spent much time out here, hunting undead creatures - though these did seem related to those of the Undead Albion Army. I tried to keep a sharp eye out, because I knew that though we may be somewhat close to the gates of the border fortress, Vindsaul Faste, that would not necessarily preclude an invader from an enemy Realm penetrating this far in order to surreptitiously engage hunters just such as ourselves.

We settled into something of a routine, and we seemed quite capable, what with two Shamans, a Healer, a Warrior, a Berserker, and myself. Being the only possessed of the gifts of stealth, I figured that if some invader happened upon us, I might get the drop on them. I was wrong.

Sometime into our hunt, and we were beginning to engage one of the many frosty beasts out here, and I felt something altogether singular - an arrow in my back. I started, breath exhaling in great force. The beast we made effort to slay was in front of me, and its attention was on the Berserker, so I knew something was amiss. I tried to turn to see in the direction from whence the arrow had flown, but I seemed to be rather lethargic. There was no poison on the tip, but the archer had so well found his mark, hitting me in my right kidney, that I was quite suddenly drained of the very vitality which moved me.

"Invader!" I shouted, and the others sprang instantly into action.

It all happened so blindingly fast, but I was brought back from the brink of death by very quick healing. The others left off their attention of the near-dead beast we had been fighting, and they turned and sped uphill toward the attacker.

"An elf!" rumbled the voice of the troll Berserker, and I could almost sense the palpable need to kill radiating from the mighty fighter.

I saw something quite odd and altogether frightening, for the Berserker entered such a frenzy that he took on the form of the dread Vendo, such was his bloodlust and immunity to pain suddenly driving him. The others followed, and I saw the healer amongst us cast a spell upon the elf that would hopefully mesmerize him into not being able to flee. I knew instinctively that the elf was quite accomplished - many more Seasons than any one of us in the party - but our combined efforts might prove him foolish and fallen for daring to attempt to snipe me.

I remained behind, recovering. A female shaman whom I had fought with for many months now stayed behind, too, to help me remove the arrow and to tend my wound. Her name was Mocca, and though the day would come when I would lose track of her, I counted her as one of my closest and most trusted companions at this point in my life.

I stared at the arrow, not even feeling the warm, tingling magicks effected by Mocca as she brought me back to full vigor. I saw the craftsmanship of the fine weapon, the lilting, almost disarmingly beautiful trim and designs upon the wood. Hibernians always seemed to go for the eloquent and aesthetic when fashioning their weapons. I also saw my blood upon the sharp tip, and I suddenly felt anger.

"Nylithil? ... wait," came Mocca's tiny, kobold voice, as I rose suddenly to move in the direction of the elf Ranger.

I had registered sounds of the continued skirmish, and I knew the others in my party had caught the transgressor. It did not take me long to get to them. They were hunched about the fallen elf, and I saw much blood about the prostrate, near-dead form of the willowy creature. He did not seem much of a thing at all, but my trainer had warned me of the precise dexterity of these beings of Hibernia, only exceeded in their homeland by lurikeens.

It seemed the others were about the finish him off, the Warrior's large sword raised like the weapon of a headsman preparing to execute punishment.

"Stop!" I called, and they all turned to me.

I know they were relieved to see me still alive, but they sensed the madness flowing out of me. Perhaps they thought I came to complete the deed. They must have felt I deserved it, so they backed off, letting me through to the elf. I went straight to him, dropping to one knee in the blood-spattered snow, and I roughly grabbed him by the wrap of his heavy cloak. I brought his aquiline face up to mine, noting how his pale skin was turning even paler as his blood left him and cold death teased at his body.

"Why did you come here?" I asked, practically growling, and I shocked all those in my group by uttering the native tongue of Hibernia; though I registered in the calm features of the elf that he seemed not at all surprised at my linquistic capabilities.

"To kill you," he grinned.

I wanted to crush his smiling face with the back of my gloved hand, but I stayed myself.

"To kill me?" I asked, looking him up and down, "I am nothing important. Why send an accomplished ranger such as you to find, track, and kill me? The risk is too great. Even had I died, your chances of escaping were too slim. Why!?" I demanded.

His outré eyes gazed back up me, placidly, but the smile had left his lips.

"You are strong, norsewoman, just as they said you would be," he muttered, "and I regret that I failed in my task. It only proves that which troubles them about you."

"What!?" I roared into the silence when it seemed he would not continue talking.

He still did not respond, and I saw that he was fading. I shook him violently, and his eyes opened a bit more. I did not speak again, but I held his eyes in mine, drilling into him.

He moved his lips in a whisper: "Shai will not rise."

The anger flared. How could this be? - I wondered. More of this damnable 'Shai'. More people trying to bring me death at the mention of this creature ... and I did not even know who it was!

My anger and frustration exploded, and I began pummeling the elf in just the way I had refrained earlier. More blood shot out of his mouth. More and more and more still. Finally I was pulled away, my body heaving. I felt more drained and weakened by this than any other fight in which I had found myself over the years.

"Stop, Nylithil, stop," came the soothing voice of Mocca.

She backed me away until I collapsed to my knees in the powdery white. The Berseker looked at me, a wry grin on his chiseled mouth.

"Him dead now," the troll uttered, seeming a bizarre congratulations to my own outburst.

"I will fetch some Jarls from the nearby fortress," said the Warrior, "They will want to know about this and perhaps keep the body."

"We should all go," sad the cautious voice of Mocca, "In case others are out here ..."

She did not say the rest, but I knew what words had been halted from her mouth - 'looking for Nylithil'.

We had all suddenly had enough of Yggdra, well perhaps except for the Berserker, and we headed in.

Chapter 14: Blood of Enemies and Friends, Part 2

The Jarls had seemed eager enough to imbibe our news, and they sent a quick squad of four out to gather the remains of the elf. They kept us there at the fortress for a while, questionning us. They asked me many things, and I told them what the elf had said. I watched closely to see how the Jarl Captain would react to my uttering the mysterious name, "Shai", but he did not react at all. Either he had never heard it, or he was very good. I was upset, though, and not for having been the specific target of a Hibernian sniper, but because I now could no longer hide my knowledge of Shai. I was not sure if anyone from the tavern in Huginfell had overheard Fulnia's last words, but I knew the others in my hunting party had heard the elf, so I was obliged to report the fullness of the encounter to this guard. I held no doubt it would get back to the House of Loki and thence to my trainers' ears.

I felt suddenly more afraid to go to them than when I feared reprimanding for the death of Fulnia.

I decided to head to Jordheim, anyway, perhaps a little rest in the crowded, busy districts of the city would afford me the distraction I required. It might also look good on my part to return to the capital after this engagement and the mentioning of Shai. I was not in need of training at the moment, so I could justify avoiding my instructors. I half-expected to be summoned, though, once I arrived.

I was summoned, but it was not by whom I expected. And it was not a summons; it was an invitation.

I made it to the small restaurant, which was near the Upper Forge. It seemed almost as though the heat of the stoking fires could cook the very meat that had been brought in the back of the quaint place. I had seen the sooty bodies of all types about the forge, all practicing their craft, but that is not why I had come. I had come to meet a Healer. And it was not because I was ill or injured, no, but because he was one of the Guild Masters of Varthmundr, and he had heard of my assistance of the troll, Glumluk, and he wished to meet me.

He did not specifically know I had come to the city, but he had left messages in places where I would likely find them, and thence upon my arrival, I received these messages. It seemed he spent much of his own time in the city, and he left me instructions on how to contact him. I decided I wanted to meet this elder Healer and learn more about his Guild.

Helaman wore fine armor of a deep azure blue and golden brown, and it made me think of the armor on the troll Shaman, Glumluk. I wondered if all in this Guild so decorated themselves, and then how welcome would they find my constantly darkly-garbed form amongst their ranks? He stood as I neared the table where he sat, and we formally introduced ourselves. He, then, bade me to join him.

"So, you are the noble Shadowblade, Nylithil?" he asked, by way of initiating our conversation.

"I am Nylithil," I said, though I had already told him my name; he smiled, as though he completely understood my response was one geared to keep me in secrecy and not necessarily humility.

I studied him for the barest moment, and I noticed a beatific grin and intelligent eyes upon his open face. He wore a full beard, like most norseman of the Realm, and I saw no reason to keep up my guard with him, but I did anyway.

We spoke for a while, and he ordered fine ale and fresh meat that still bore the red hue of recent slaughter. I did not take this as some show of money, though, merely hospitality, a hospitality that seemed to come quite easily from the generous man. He told me of the history of their Guild and how they were not so interested in many of the internal, political power struggles like so many other Guilds. They simply acted as an extended family, embracing those they chose and who chose them. He did not push me for an answer to Glumluk's invitation, either, and I soon found myself feeling quite comfortable with his company.

"Here, this is for you," he said, and he produced a package wrapped in fine oil-cloth.

I looked at him quizzically. I did not make a move for the parcel that now sat upon the table between us.

"Well?" he asked, good-naturedly, "Will you not open it?"

I delayed but a moment more, and then I reached over and unwrapped the cloth.

To my amazement, it bore two cleavers of exquisite craftsmanship. I knew that they were well beyond anything I could afford. The sharp metal gleamed with a strong deadliness. I longed to sink them into living, breathing flesh.

I looked up at him, and there was that grin again. He knew I had lost myself momentarily in my mute appreciation of the weapons.

"They were crafted by one of our Guild members," he explained, "Glumluk mentioned you bore axes, and I figured that you were of a mind to perhaps graduate to these more advanced weapons."

It was as though he could read my mind, for indeed, I had longed to wield such weapons, but again, their cost had kept me away. I had been squirreling what money I could, but I had dared not even dream that I would have such a fine pair so soon in my career.

"How can I possibly accept these?" I said, and I settled back in my chair.

"This is not meant to make you beholden to us, Nylithil," he explained, and he laid a single hand atop the parcel.

It seemed odd to me to see the worn hands of this experienced healer atop weapons of such a lethal nature. I wondered if his power might ooze out of his palms and dull the blades, thereby making it so they would cause no injury. Of course, no such thing happened.

"I have also undertaken the fledgling curriculum of spellcrafting, and these cleavers are imbued with magickal powers that shall aid you in battle. I also visited an Alchemist so that in addition to their beneficial magick, they also possess lethal power beyond the mere ability of the metal, and on occasion, they shall burst forth upon your prey with extra damage."

"This is all too much, sir," I said, for if I had thought the cleavers alone of exemplary quality, these extra benefits made them even all the more valuable.

"Again, I say, this is not to indebt you to us. It is for keeping our friend, Glumluk, alive."

Ah, this I could understand. I reached forth and took the package. I offered him words of thanks, but he brushed them off, thanking me again for saving the life of their Shaman.

We talked more, engaging in conversation well beyond the time it took us to consume the meal. I noticed that he did not partake as much as I. In a way, I felt as though I was meeting someone that could be like a father; a decent and good father, too, not the selfish, guilt-ridden waste that was my true parent.

We completed our conversation. I was eager to get out of there and test my new weapons. I sensed, though, that he was eager to gain an answer from me as to whether or not I would join their ranks. And I had an answer ready.