Author Topic: The Wizard War (Chapter Eighteen)  (Read 1026 times)

Offline davidleejones13

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The Wizard War (Chapter Eighteen)
« on: August 27, 2008, 12:50:59 AM »
"I said," Moncrede screamed, a strong hand wrapped firmly around the village elder's throat, "I need someone strong in magic!"

The elder cringed, more out of fear than as reaction to having smelled the decay on the General's breath. He looked down at the young man he had just pointed out as the village Mage. A pang of guilt  touched his heart as his eyes ran over the broken and bleeding mass that was once the young man's body. Rage sparked a fire deep within his soul and he tensed against the strong grasp of the Nureaytumea's hold. The elder spat in Mocrede's face.

The cold stare of the mirror like eyes intensified as an evil grin spread across the General's face. He began squeezing harder relishing the guttural choking sounds coming from the old man's throat. Finally there was a merciful snap as the spine splintered and, after a spray of blood from his lips, the village leader was dead. Moncrede threw the old man down, disgust and rage screwing his face up into a horrid mask.

"You bastard!" A dark haired young woman in flowing grey robes shouted breaking from the crowd of villagers.

"Nalya no!" Several villager folk shouted trying to hold her back, but she broke free and raced to the dead body of the elder lying at the General's feet. She fell to her knees and embraced the dead man as her body racked with heavy sobs.

"And what do we have here?!" The General reached down and grabbed a hand full of the woman's raven hair. A nervous shift and hushed murmur rippled through the onlooking crowd, but all knew to challenge the General was suicide. He pulled her up and noticed the magic amulet fall out from beneath her tunic. He reached out and grasped it yanking it from her neck.

"A Mage?" The amulet glowed with a soft bluish light as it dangled from the Nureaytumea's fist.

"I will never help you!" Nalya spat in the General's face. "You killed my Grandfather!"

Moncrede leaned his face in close and putrid breath burned at the young woman's nostrils. She felt the bile rise within her throat and vomit burst forth splashing the mirrored eyed soldier on the cheek.  Nayla braced for the impending blow as a gaunlet clad fist raised before her ready to throw a punch. But instead an odd look suddenly crossed the evil man's face. His other hand let go and she looked on in horror as the flesh on his face and the exposed part of his arm began ripping and tearing open. Blood rained down and soaked the dry village dirt under Moncredes feet.

Nalya tried to step back but found that her body was paralyzed in place. It was then that she noticed the gauntlet on the General's arm had changed. It was now a black scaled snake swaying back and forth in a slow hypnotic dance just inches away from her face. She cringed as the snake crawled from the General onto her neck. Her mind screamed out against the powerlessness. The snake crawled under her tunic and made it's way down her left arm where it wrapped around her wrist.

A scream escaped Nalya's lips as she felt the two needle like piercing pricks accompanied by the fiery rush of venom up the veins of her arms.

"Now that is more like it!" She exclaimed wiping the vomit from her chin staring through her new glass like obsidian eyes at the convulsing body of Moncrede. As the snake around her wrist solidified into metal the General body, devoid of life and soul, hit the ground with a splash of blood and a dull thud. All the knowledge that was his was now hers. A deafening silence fell over the scene as she raised a gauntlet clad arm to the darkening sky and a cold rain began showering the gathered army and villagers.

Writhing upon the ground within the pooling puddles, countless small black scaled snakes swarmed the dumbfounded  villagers.  They were soon added to the numbers of the army as the magic of the gauntlet increased it's own power with Nalya's strong ability in magic.

"We are Nureaytumea!" Nalya shouted as a gale force wind swept Southward through the village and the assembled mass of soldiers and villagers fell into parade lines and marched out of the village towards the Nuytumean with the strong wind at their backs.
An devilish grin spread across Nalya's features as she marched before the evil army.


“Ione pregnant?!?” Devon shouted in disbelief, “but how?”

“My dear boy,”  Favereau chuckled, “I am here to instruct you how to wield the power of the Nuytumean, not to explain the birds and the bees.”

Devon noticed a couple of young women giggle and begin to whisper as they walked past.

“I mean,” he looked around embarrassed at the odd stares lowering his voice, “I thought I was 'unable'.”

“No young one,” the old man patted him on the shoulder, “just unwilling.”

“I do not understand.” The young Mage sighed.

“You will my boy. We begin our training at the Temple of Knowledge,” The Svoresome responded pointing towards a peak across the valley rising just above the trees,”on top of that mountain.”

They walked a few steps towards the village gate before Favereau stopped and scratched his bearded chin. He turned on his heel scanning the opposite horizon.
“Or was it that mountain?” 

« Last Edit: August 27, 2008, 04:26:14 AM by davidleejones13 »