I slashed, only to strike the empty air where that … monster had once been. Or maybe it was a demon? Hard to tell. It raised it’s left hand and targeted me, which was simply my cue to dodge. That scorching beam of red shot out of it’s fingertips, exploding into the far wall and melting a small section of stones together. No charcoal was left behind, nothing burst into flames, the marks on the wall weren’t even that noticeable. Hard to believe assassination could be so much simpler when a dark wizard is hired for the job.
He didn’t seem to care that his shot missed, the dark cloaked figure slowly made it’s way towards the king’s bedchamber. He had a few more hallways to go through and all of them were lined with more guards, the majority more skilled and better armed than myself. Heck, I couldn’t even afford an enchanted blade like half of my squad wielded. But in light of what I could see first hand I didn’t think any of it would matter. I readied my blade, charged the spell caster from behind, and made my best attempt to cheer under the suffocating silence, but nothing seemed to matter. There was no scream in pain, none of his continuous spells relented, he didn’t even slow down.
At this point, you might be wondering why I was fighting alone. Why hadn’t I sounded any alarm, or called for the aid of the entire castle staff? The simple answer is, that I did. It’s protocol, you don’t get to play the hero if you want to succeed. But none of them made a sound. The clattering of steel as my sword swiped across his dagger was absent, the warning claxon made not a sound as I smashed metal onto metal. I screamed at the air, shouting to my companions, to no effect. Not even the thundering explosions of the many spells I had to dodge made their usual clatter.
All the more reason to hate magic.
Next you might be wondering just what I look like. To be honest? I don’t actually remember. Mirrors are hard to come by when you spend most of your time training and the rest standing guard, and this was the last night I would ever have the power of a human body. The monster? This frustrating spell caster wasn’t much to look at either, but I least I remember what I could see. Black. That’s about it, black in a dark room on a moonless night. There weren’t any details to his face, just a blob of fog that seemed to slide past his lips and swirl around his head. I couldn’t see any hair past the pitch black hood over his skull, and the black robes he wore covered every part of his form save the hands. And they looked black too … not black as the extremely tan foreigners from the sun baked regions south of the kingdom, black as in pitch-black, blending perfectly with the night sky.
That was probably magic too.
Annoyed that stabbing through his lungs had no noticeable effect, I gripped the hilt of my blade steadily and twisted, gouging through what I could only hope was flesh and bone, before dazzling light exploded in my eyes and the floor fell out from under me. I was on my knees, my hands cupping my swollen eyes, tears of pain and frustration mixing with charred flesh and made all the more terrible by my inability to scream. But I wasn’t about to give up, ha! Guess I was just too stubborn to let a simple face melting slow me down. I looked across the room to see the black garbed wizard walk calmly through the halls with my sword jutting out between his shoulder blades.
I smiled when I saw my captain, fallowed closely by four other well armed and well armored knights, charge the beast head on. I guess they must have seen the spell casting, or noticed my battle by now. One heavily enchanted blade raised high and swung down, surely with enough force to cleave a man in two. But the monster blurred and dodged with incredible speed, zipping around and through the other guards as if they were children. Another swing, missed entirely. I saw Charles shouting mutely as he stabbed forward, but his blade only seemed to catch clothing … before it ran through the man next to him.
It’s weird, utterly weird, to hear silence when you know a man in screaming at the top of his lungs. If a healer got here in time that wound would be nothing, but otherwise … my fellow guard would not even be allowed the luxury of a dieing breath, any last words he make would fall on deaf ears.
I hate magic.
What was even more odd, the monster never moved that fast when I was fighting him. Why not? Undeterred by such constant failure against this foe, I rushed forward with my bare hands, I would give my life to stop any attack against the king. The monster turned at the last second, raised a glowing hand aimed towards my chest, just before my world exploded into pain. I felt I was stretched and squeezed, torn from all sides with daggers slicing through my skin and nose from under my flesh. I passed out.
Even though it didn’t kill me, I had indeed given my life for the king. As I soon found out waking up in a …
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