Damnation: Dawn of The Apotheosis

FACE OF DANGER

Ashviel stood speechless as Kael confirmed his fears. Quickly, they ran into the streets of Lilk, and to Maga-Maga’s shed, but the crook was nowhere near. They pounded their heavy feet all over the place, threw the furniture over, kicked down all doors, but it was obvious that Maga-Maga was long gone.

“Damn it,” Ashviel exclaimed as he realized that the first customer was a hoax and was only playing along with the sham mage.

“You are in no position to cuss,” said Kael. “You brought this upon us.”

“I did?” Ashviel cried. “If you had allowed us lie gently in the lodges, this would not have happened.”

“Well,” said Kael, “at least I got something in return for the gold.”

“What gold?”

“Oh no,” said Kael, suddenly remembering that he had lost a huge portion of his money to the party girls. “The Blue Beard academy is still far away.”

“Now’s not the time for bickering or lamenting,” said Ashviel. His face lightened briefly. “We can run away, far away from Lilk.”

“No way. What do you want Birdie to think of us?”

“True that.”

This time, Kael’s face lit up as a brilliant idea crossed his mind.

“There’s this game I used to play with my cousins back at home. I saw some of the men gambling with it, and with a little force Rek, I should be able to cheat them out of their money,” he said.

“You are a very fine one to suggest that.”

Therefore, the two penniless young men went back to the hotel with high hopes. They got to the table of men, after avoiding the disturbing bartender. Rastag, a heavily built man with stringy dreadlocks and a fearful demeanor headed the table.

“Came to lay bets with dada’s money?” he asked them as they took two vacant chairs around the table. They were five of them high creatures, with dark red eyes and near empty pockets.

“I only came to liven up this forsaken table, if you please,” Kael said.

“I like this one already, Rastag,” said one of the men, oozing an unpleasant smell of rum as he spoke.

“Your stakes,” Rastag asked in a business-like fashion.

Kael asked Ashviel to bring out whatever coin was left with him. The latter gave him a hesitant stare before producing three gold heads and twelve platinum heads.

Rastag snatched the money from his hands and placed it beside him.

“Three goldies and a dozen platys,” said one of the men, using the loose terms for gold heads and platinum heads. “You’re casting it all.”

The game started in earnest and Ashviel watched in boredom as cards flew across the air, coins thrown over and loud curses hurled at each other.

At last, the game ended and Kael appeared to have stolen the money of the gamblers. “You won’t get away with this,” one mellow one among them, a bad loser, swore.

“Have some respect,” Rastag cautioned him, “this young man has won squarely. If you have any more money, you can stake it against him.”

Miraculously, the two came out of the place with ten times the amount they had initially, even though Kael was apprehensive of an ambush from the drunks. Immediately, they went to pay Birdie his scores for the night, and decided to leave Lilk the next day.

That night, they slept with one eye open, impatiently awaiting the break of day. Dawn came at last, and they made their way out the hotel. They viewed the map once more and decided to ride to Blue Beard’s through a forest.

They rode on merrily for days, stopping only to put up their tents at night. On the fourth day, they set out to complete the last phase of the journey. They chatted casually as they rode on, thinking about what reception Master Vauxall would have for them. Noon came and their joys doubled over, but they became alarmed when they sighted a score of armed men in front of them.

“Bandits,” Kael said impulsively. They tried to turn tail, but it was too late, they were too close to the men to run now. Evidently, they had been patiently awaited.

One of them, who was clearly the leader, stepped forward. He was a very hairy fellow, with thick brown tresses cascading down his shoulders. He had an eye patch for his right eye and though he was apparently unarmed, he had looks that were enough to make him dreadful.

“Fear not,” his plummy voice stated. “We intend to cause you no trouble.”

Kael was intrepid. “You can save us our time and money by granting us passage this moment,” he said to the man.

Another of the armed bandits stood out from the rest. He was clad in a rather outlandish armor, with a short stout sword in his arm. The rest wore cutlasses and clubs, and a couple of them wielded axes.

The armored brigand spoke. “Offer no resistance,” he said, “we know already that you are mages.”

Ashviel descended from his horse and made a huge fireball with his hand.

“Are you sure you know what you mean by that?” he asked them as the flame burnt ferociously in his palms. His display registered fear in the face of the bandits, all but the leader and his armored subordinate.

“Impressive,” he said, not sounding impressed at all. “But you should consider our terms.”

Kael shook his head. “Petty bandits,” he whispered to Ashviel, “Master Vauxall killed enough of them when we travelled together. These ones are amateurs; I’ll take out the leader and his subordinate, while you finish off the rest.”

“Alright,” answered Ashviel, “we have no choice but to fight.” With this, both drew their blades, ready for an onslaught.

“You leave me with little options. Attack,” the one-eyed leader ordered his men.

Ashviel lunged violently at the men. He dodged an axe aimed at his head and retaliated with a heavy strike that split his victim’s head, sending up a splutter of blood as the blade made its way in and out of the bandit’s head. Two of the men attacked him from opposite directions, but he dodged their strikes, allowing the men to hack forcefully into each other. Another one, wielding a huge club, charged at him with an animal-like grunt. Ashviel took care of his legs with a low sweeping rapping tempest, dismembering the bandit. As he fell down, some other bandit attacked Ashviel with two cutlasses, only to have his body clipped down by his own weapons.

Just a year ago, he could not have been able to face a single bandit squarely. Months of training with Master Vauxall had however dragged him through hell, and a score of bandits should pose little threat.

He was however unlucky as one of them attacked him from behind, nearly striking the nape of his neck. Few inches from him, the cutlass suddenly went down as a stout sword severed the arm of its wielder. The bandit screamed in pain and turned to the armored brigand who had cut off his hand.

“What was that for?” he yelled.

“You i***t! The order was not to kill him,” the armored brigand yelled back.

“You bastard, that was my brother,” another of the men snarled with his face twisted in an ugly expression. He lurched at the armored brigand, who fixed him quite easily, decapitating him in a single strike. The gang split as the infighting began, and Ashviel soon had his sword darting this way and that.

Meanwhile, Kael had no success fighting with the unarmed boss. Somehow, the man kept deflecting his attacks with ease, and Kael knew that he must be a mage. The closest he had gotten was when he employed the Zeroszen ultimate move, but the man quickly stepped back, narrowly missing the strike and bringing out his dirk midair.

“You are even more skilled than I expected, I see I have made no mistake following you around.”

“Then what do you want from us?” Kael asked, keeping a safe distance from the man.

A sharp strike to the underarm cruelly jolted Ashviel from his frenzied rampage, and he turned around to find the muddy forest floor carpeted with the blood and bodies of eighteen dead men. Even though he had killed half a dozen of them himself and wounded several others, he was still shocked to see that the armored brigand had done away with his allies, and now had his stout sword deep in Ashviel’s shoulder, threatening to cut off his whole arm.

He reeled back in pains and collapsed near Kael, writhing as a red fluid ran down his body. He suppressed his nausea at the sight of the corpses, and despite his own miserable condition, he felt a slight pity for the unlucky bandits.

Kael could take it no more, he was unable to defeat the bandit chief, and his friend lay only minutes away from death.

“What the hell do you want?” he blurted out.

The bandit head drew closer to make a speech in his plummy voice. “Forgive my ill approach and the uncouth men I brought along with me. My name is Manny De Vrie. My subordinate here, Edward, and I happened to notice your little act at the gambling table, so we organized this small group to retrieve you. We have no intentions to hurt you; instead, we invite you to join The Twilight Moon. With my guidance, young bloods like you can rise to even greater heights, so what say you to my fair offer?

Kael shook his head. “I decline, we are allied already,” he said.

“How about I add a little something to it?” As he spoke, he put his hands into his pockets and brought out the very bag of coins Ashviel had given to Maga-Maga. “You see, I happened to retrieve this from that cheat, but I’m willing to return it to you, should you accept my offer.”

“Like I said, we are already allied.”

“To whom?” Edward, the armored brigand barked.

“To Archmage Gunparch,” Kael answered. He had heard the name somewhere before, and knew that the archmage was feared by many mages. Somehow, he felt like mentioning Master Vauxall’s name would do him little good.

“Unbelievable,” De Vrie whistled. “What business do Archmage Gunparch’s men have here?”

“You will do better not knowing,” he replied.

Ashviel let out another scream in his agony, and Kael knew he had to do something quick. Phrenetic as he was, he knew quite well that following De Vrie would not sit well with Master Vauxall.

“How about I offer you something else,” he asked De Vrie.

“What? To mention me in the presence of your Lord? You are not close enough to him to do that,” he answered plainly.

“Of course, but I can grant you some of the scrolls he gave us.”

The two waylayers exchanged stares.

“These scrolls,” said Edward somewhat excitedly, “have you read them yet?”

“No, he said we’re not yet strong enough to learn the spells it contained.”

“Then we’ll have it,” Manny said decisively. Evidently, he was used to being obeyed without question.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement,” said Kael, “one moment, please.” He put his hands into his space pouch and the two men let their guards down for a single moment; the single moment Kael had been expecting.

He brought out his hands, but instead of the scrolls, a powerful rapping tempest formed on it. Using all of his Rek reserves to create one sweeping move, he hurled the spell at Manny and Edward. The two men darted back in defense and De Vrie created a force screen that was just enough to keep him on his feet.

Quickly, Kael carried Ashviel and swung him over his shoulder, before running as fast as he could into the woods. Sure enough, Edward gave a hot pursuit, while Manny only stood still, perhaps thinking of a way to punish Kael when his subordinate gets hold of the crafty lad.

The chase lasted for an hour before the armored brigand closed the gap between them.

“Bloody bastard, how the hell can he run so fast in his heavy armor?” Kael cursed as the armored brigand came even nearer.

A sharp kick connected to his legs, tumbling him over the floor. He stood up to attack but Edward gripped him firmly, holding him to the ground as he rearranged his face with heavy fists. For a moment there, Kael felt that the brigand no longer had any use in recruiting them, and was now intent on killing him.

Thud!

Ashviel had gotten up and with all the fury and Rek in him; he transmuted his fist, then slammed it into the head of the armored brigand. The blow was sufficient to let a tap of blood ooze out of his head, sending him sprawling senseless on the floor. Ashviel stood over him and stomped him repeatedly, before backing off to lend a hand to Kael.

“Is he dead?” Kael asked with his mouth full of the cuprous taste of blood.

“No, but we will be if we linger for much longer.”

They resumed their flight and Kael soon found himself carrying Ashviel over his shoulders again. After a long while, he collapsed at the front of a large blue gate, and the map fell off his hands. He made for it, groping on the floor, and was delighted to find out that at that moment, he and his friend had arrived at Blue Beard’s gate.