"The Tale of Zyrimir d'Quethe, Part V"

by Chartaine

Ed. note: Part 5 in an ongoing serialized tale. The previous portions can be found in Waerd Aev's Archives section.

Surrounded by a contingent of mercenaries, the leader and mage led Zyrimir down a dark corridor. Zyrimir's thoughts drifted to his escape and unease about the position in which he had left Chartaine. As the dark corridor began to wind around to the left, the young paladin noticed a alcove near the end of the corridor. Formulating the plan in his head, and counting on the luck and favors of his god, the young man began his escape.

Knowing that in this narrow corridor, with the contingent as tightly packed as they were, they could not fire their bows without hurting each other, he hoped that he could get out of the mercenaries' line of sight quick enough to duck into the alcove. Reaching it, he dove for cover. Breathing hard from his run, the young paladin pulled as much of himself back into the alcove as possible. After what seemed like hours, three mercenaries darted past his hiding place. They searched for signs of his passing where the corridor split. Not finding any, they divided and ran either direction. Zyrimir waited painfully long moments until he felt that the threat had vanished.

Feeling he was safe, he pressed his luck, inching his head out of the alcove. From a few yards down the corridor he heard the creak of a bow. He could not see whence the sound had come, but he knew it was close. Pulling his head back in, he hoped there was only the one archer. Careful not to expose any part of his body for the marksman, Zyrimir pulled off his helmet. Feeling around in the dark alcove, the paladin's hand closed on a hard leather wrapped object. As his hand closed around it, he realized what the object was. Bringing the sword up quickly in front of him, he studied it closely.

As he placed his helm back on his head, he studied the sword. The blade was encased in a dusty sheath, and after rubbing, revealed small intricately carved runes down its length. The pommel was made of steel, carved to resemble a mongoose whose eyes looked like opals. Zyrimir pulled the blade from the sheath, dust and decay falling from it. As the blade worked its way free, it began to glow. Stunned and partially revealed to whoever was waiting down the corridor, the paladin shoved the blade back into the sheath.

Down the corridor, the two mercenaries had seen the glow come from the alcove. The marksman held his position as the other drew his sword. Fearing the worst, the mercenary crept toward the alcove. Having doused their torch before the leader had left, the mercenary had to feel his way along the wall. Knowing that the alcove was near, the mercenary concentrated both hands to his sword. As soon as his hand hit the pommel, however, Zyrimir was on him. Fearing to draw the sword, the young man swung the sword upward, sheath and all, catching the mercenary under the jaw. Shaking off the stunning blow, the mercenary drove hard in toward the paladin.

Zyrimir was already a step ahead of him and sidestepped the swing. Bringing his blade around quickly, Zyrimir struck near the base of the man's skull, breaking the mercenary's neck.

Victorious over his opponent, the paladin felt his way down the corridor. Sensing the marksman not much farther ahead, the young warrior drew his blade. Almost immediately the blade flared up. Stunning the archer, still kneeling where his partner had left him, Zyrimir swung hard down into the man. Before he could even scream, the paladin had finished him. The paladin turned and was about to sheath the blade when the light faded, and it resumed its dull gray color.

Staring at the blade in disbelief, Zyrimir mumbled, "What in the four blazes…."

* * * * *

Chartaine awoke again to find himself on a cell floor. The numbness in his cheek proved that he had been lying on the floor for a few hours. Standing up, the mage noticed a small welt on the back of his head, which explained the pounding headache. Walking closer to the bars that made up the door to his cell, Chartaine heard motion. Soon a figure stood in the shadows near the door. Stepping forward with joy written all over his face, Zyrimir greeted his friend with a signal to stay quiet. Pulling a set of keys from under a 'borrowed' cloak, the paladin began trying one after the other until he met success, and the door swung open.

Zyrimir tried more keys until he was able to remove the shackles binding the mage's wrists. The shackles fell noisily to the ground, and both friends turned quickly to see if they had attracted any attention. After several patient moments they could not hear anyone coming. Zyrimir reached under his cloak and pulled a sword out, handing it to the mage. Chartaine examined the blade and nodded. Zyrimir pointed his finger down the corridor and gave the mage a signal. Chartaine began to concentrate and finally opened his eyes. Pointing down the corridor, a lightning bolt jumped from the mage's fingertip. Screams accompanied the bright flash as the two friends continued down the corridor.

As the friends worked their way in the darkness, Zyrimir's blade began to glow softly. The paladin put a hand on Chartaine's arm and mouthed the word, "Trouble." Chartaine nodded and began to concentrate once more. This time when he opened his eyes, he gestured at the ceiling which sprang to life with dancing lights. The lights hovered a few hundred feet down the corridor. Chartaine nodded and the lights went to work. As they spread out, they illuminated the entire corridor. Moving slowly, the two companions wandered farther. Chartaine motioned at the lights, and they moved farther out in front of the two. He motioned again, and they moved farther. This time there were shouts of surprise, cursing and the sound of swords being drawn. The two friends looked at each other and readied their blades. Chartaine signaled one more time, and the lights vanished. The two charged down the corridor and met the oncoming mercenaries.

Zyrimir barreled over the first and drove the now brightly glowing blade deep into the second. Chartaine worked on the other side of the corridor in quick and fluid motions, with one mercenary already dead at his feet. The mage turned and found himself with a mercenary bearing down on him from each side. Working his blade back and forth, holding his two opponents at bay, the mage found himself with his back against the wall. Zyrimir, noticing the trouble, quickly finished his opponent off and turned to help. Nicking the first mercenary on the right bicep, he attracted the assassin's attention from Chartaine. As the mage was relieved, he quickly finished off the last opponent. Zyrimir as well finished his adversary and glanced around.

A short way up the corridor, the paladin noticed a small beam of light. The two quickly made their way down the way to find a small door made of plain wood. Chartaine quickly reached for the knob and pushed. Light poured in as the door revealed a open alleyway. The two moved outside quickly and shut the door. Moving quickly down the alley, the two never noticed the mage slip out of the door behind them.

* * * * *

Sitting in a steaming bath, the two friends toasted their luck. Chartaine set his mug down and lowered himself into the water. Getting comfortable he began to doze off. Zyrimir never being one for missing a nap, quickly followed suit. No sooner had the young paladin drifted of, but his dreams began. He dreamed of faraway castles and perilous mountains. His dream took a drastic turn, and he began to see a face. The face was scarred horribly and the head covered with a hood.

"Zyrimir!" the face boomed, as the young paladin shivered. "You have something important to me. Be wary, young one, for there are many out there who will betray you. Your time is drawing near. Your usefulness will be served, and you will be no more…"