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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1048399-The-Crimson-Blade
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by Vrael Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Fantasy · #1048399
Each race in Angalacon strives for mastery. But a dark lord has arisin to conquer all.
Prologue

Silhouetted against the crimson sky Vrashnar the Seeker, raised his head to the heavens, but the incredible beauty of the sunset was lost to him. In the fading light, his demonic features were almost invisible. His face was long and angular, and his chin and jaw extended far beyond that of a normal human’s. Light seemed to bend around him, shrouding his body in shadow. His eyes shone red, two bright flames of hatred and rage. Long black hair hung down in his face, almost hiding his inhuman features.

He looked down at the village below him in disgust. Humans, they had always been the enemy of his race, weak and pathetic as they were. Had he not had other business here, he would have tortured and killed everyone one of them. He looked on in interest, but no one stirred or moved, all was still. Bored, he turned back to the mountain path he was traveling. His ears picked up faint sounds of footsteps. Sniffing the air, he frowned. Like the rest of his kindred, he had an incredibly developed sense of smell. Something was approaching, and quickly. Slipping behind a tree, he loosened his sword in its sheath and got ready to fight.

Stumbling through the undergrowth, a warrior goblin clad in black armor made his way down the mountainside to where the seeker was waiting. As he approached the end of the trees, he halted and surveyed his surroundings.

Releasing his grip on his sword, Vrashnar stepped out from behind the tree. Surprise and fear registered on the goblin’s face for a split second, and then it relaxed.

“Master,” it hissed, showing sharp teeth filed down to points, “my warriors are all in place.”

“Good” the Seeker replied in a soft voice. He despised these creatures, but they were necessary. His trap set; he would now wait and see if his quarry would show itself. Signaling for the warrior goblin to follow him, he started up the winding path.

The sun disappeared over the horizon and its last rays faded swiftly. Stars began to appear overhead, dimly at first, but then brighter as the sun faded into memory. The moon rose and cast its luminous beams down into the forest below. The air was still and the forest was enveloped in a deathly silence.

Suddenly an icy blast of wind swept through the trees, nearly knocking the Seeker and his companion to the ground. It howled through the trees with the very voice of sorrow itself. Saplings were bent backward and even the great oaks swayed back and forth in its fury.

As its last breath was passing, Vrashnar felt a cold chill rush through his body. Magic! He was sure of it. The demon hunter was here! The very thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. For years he had searched for the demon hunter, but in vain. In spite of his best efforts, the demon hunter had always managed to remain a step ahead of him. Now, tonight, he would pay for eluding him so long. Renewing his march, Vrashnar narrowed his eyes and strode forward with new resolution. Blood would flow this night!

The moon was high in the sky before the Seeker signaled to his companion to halt. They were at the edge of a small clearing. Here light shone down unhindered by trees and branches. Directly in front of them yawned the entrance to a cave, no light penetrated that entrance, it was utterly dark. Shadows danced at the edge of the trees, defying the moonlight. No sound could be heard except for the harsh breathing of the goblin and Seeker. And yet . . . something else was there. Vrashnar could feel it now. It was a deep throbbing sensation, and it seemed to come from the cave. The entire clearing pulsed with it. The air around the cave entrance shimmered and danced, as if caused by extreme heat.

Vrashnar narrowed his eyes suspiciously and sniffed the air again. His entire body stiffened at the smell that greeted it. Hissing urgently for his captain to follow, he quickly backed down the path. Magic! The air in the clearing was full of it. Signaling for the warrior goblin to follow him as silently as possible, he began circling the clearing to approach from a different direction.

Suddenly his companion gasped out loud. Furious at the disturbance, the Seeker spun around, intending to kill him for his carelessness. There at his feet lay the goblin, a knife imbedded in the back of his skull.

The demon hunter! Vrashnar was sure of it; no one else could have killed the captain without his knowing. As he stooped to examine the corpse, he heard the almost silent whistle of a knife flying through the air. He threw himself to the side with inhuman speed, but he wasn’t quick enough. He felt a soft thud and screamed as a knife imbedded itself in his shoulder. Reaching back, he ripped the blade from his flesh and spun to face his assassin.

There, not ten paces away, was the demon hunter. His shaggy hair shone silver in the moonlight and a huge sword was strapped to his back. He was hooded and cloaked, hiding his face in shadows.

“Greetings… friend,” he said in a voice so cold it made the Seeker shudder. He threw back his hood and cloak revealing his face. He was old, and yet not so. His hair and beard were white, and there seemed to be a veiled power about him.

Swift as lightning Vrashnar threw the still bloody knife directly at his enemy. Unperturbed, he casually stepped to the side and plucked the blade out of mid air. Returning it to his belt he gave a smile that held no amusement. He was worn and weatherbeaten, but his deep blue eyes held an impenetrable calm.

“Vrael,” Vrashnar hissed his voice full of menace, “you won’t escape this time.” He drew his blade. It rang slightly as it left the scabbard, the black metal almost invisible against the darkness. With the swiftness of a panther the demon hunter unsheathed his sword and vaulted toward the Seeker, his sword sweeping down like a silver thunderbolt.

The shock of the first blow nearly knocked both to the ground. Each was a master swordsman and many times stronger than a mortal man. Steel clashed upon steel as the two blades met. Vrashnar parried, thrust, and disengaged with a flourish.

The speed at which the attacks were executed was astounding, and it seemed impossible for neither to be killed. Vrashnar moved forward like a snake, his blade flickering out like a forked tongue, only to be met by an impenetrable guard of steel.

Frustration showed on his face as again and again these lightning swift attacks were met and turned aside. Slowly, however, the demon hunter was forced down. One pace he fell back, then two. Yet not once did the seeker’s blade touch him, so skilled was his retreat.

Suddenly, the demon hunter’s blade found new life. He began to press forward, attacking. Each sweep of his massive sword flowed directly into the next. The seeker now found it was all he could do to keep up with the furry of blows.

“No!” he howled as he was forced to take a step back, “This is my victory!” If only he could find a way to call his soldiers, then they could save him, but how to reach them?
He was jolted from these thoughts as the demon hunter, though never slowing his blade, lashed out with his foot and struck him in the ribs, cracking his steel armor.

The force of the blow knocked Vrashnar to the entrance the cave. Within inches of the cavern, the seeker could feel the magical barrier guarding its entrance, even stronger than before. It was ancient magic from before the world was overturned in the great wars. He could not escape that way. Strength born of desperation surged inside him as the demon hunter charged in f0r the finishing blow. With a sudden burst of energy, he leapt over his assailant’s head sending him straight into the cave entrance. The demon hunter, although unable to stop, altered his stroke so that as he flew past, his blade bit deeply into the Seeker’s thigh.

As he breached the entrance, a blinding flash lit the entire clearing as if it were high noon. The shockwave that followed knocked the Seeker to the ground. There, in the entrance of the cave, lay the demon hunter, unmoving, still clutching his sword.









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