This is the opening segment to something I'm working on. It takes place in the world of Terranor. The chapters aren't going to be conventional chapters, meaning they won't exactly be numbered and some will actually be quite short, like this one. This chapter is ambiguous in nature and it's intended to be that way. I'm hoping to come back to it later in the story and when I do it will make a lot of sense as to what's really going on and who's who.
Anyway here it is
Criticism is greatfully appreciated!
Theran
“Blessed we be by the powers of the divine, let not
these strengths fall into the hands of the wicked. Let
us not need pray for salvation.”
-The Nonarian Promise, Book of the Gift Theran was a proud man. If this wasn’t seen in his face, then it was seen in his movements. If one could not see this pride, they would inevitably hear it in his voice. Regardless of the situation, Theran stood with his head held high, his chest pushed out, and his elbows pulled back a bit. He resembled every statue of himself ever erected in almost every way. The only difference people ever noticed was that the real man struck them with an undeniable sense of awe.
Theran stood tall and proud in his Nonarian robes. The long white gown covered his entire body, save his hands and head. The seams of the robe were stitched with red and gold in a luxurious pattern. The long sash matched the threading and hung to his knees and seemed to draw extra attention to the deep black boots he wore. His leather gloves were also black, reaching to his elbows. Through all of his apparel, his cape was the most majestic piece. The outside was as pure a white as the rest of the outfit, and the inside a smooth red. It was a long cape, always following a few feet behind him. When Theran walked, the air caught under the cape made it look like he was floating. Theran demanded the attention of all by his appearance alone.
Theran ran his fingers through the thick of his beard. He would only touch the areas that were still dark; the two grey patches on either side of his chin reminded him of his age far too often. The same could be said about his hair. Cut short and groomed, even the finest of his servants couldn’t get rid of the white hair on the sides. He did well to take care of the dark brown hair that covered the rest of his head, but still did what he could to avoid contact with the damage done by time.
“Welcome to my chambers,” said Theran, bowing very slightly. “I cannot deny that this visit comes to me as quite a surprise. I am a very busy man, you see, and I can usually only be seen by appointment. I can tell, however, that perhaps this meeting wasn’t to be expected and that the three of you intend to harm me.” Theran examined the three men in front of him. They had somehow managed to invade his tower. He suspected that many of his servants were slain by now and he began to wonder how they might be replaced.
“You know why we are here,” said the man in the center. He was dirty, and the evidence of recent battles covered his clothes. The blood of many men had splattered onto his leather armor and his old shield looked beaten.
“I can only assume that you wish to bring about my early demise,” replied Theran.
“Your death is long over due.” The man in the center brought his shield in front of him and stood ready to fight. His two companions, also clad in leather, did the same. “Are you ready?”
Theran gave his gloves a slight tug and stretched his arms for a bit. “I suppose I could reply with some over-confident response right now, and you might expect as much. Or,” he paused briefly. “Or, I could talk for a moment about how I plan to defeat the three of you. Would you mind?”
“I’m sorry?” asked the middle man.
“Are you confused? You must understand what I’m trying to do here, my boy.”
“And what would that be?” the man asked.
“I am extending the time you have left to spend in this world. The man to your left, the lad who served with the Gerani Outpost. He dies first. Quickly. It might hurt for a moment, but not for long. Your other friend will think he’s got a chance for a kill strike, two actually. His death will be somewhat painful, but nothing compared to the death you will face, Bladesmaster.” He looked once more upon the three men. “I suppose that I’ve done enough talking. Whenever you’re ready then?” Theran stood calmly as he looked over the eyes of his opponents.
“Die!” screamed the middle man. As the men took their first step, Theran raised his right hand and quickly clenched his fist. The man on the left, the Gerani Outpost veteran, took one last gasp of air before his body crashed to the ground. The center man stopped for only a second in shock as his other companion rushed towards his enemy.
“You bastard!” he screamed as he charged forward. He leapt towards Theran with his blade held firmly out in front him. Theran opened his clenched hand into a flat palm. The man was still in the air for the briefest of moments. Theran quickly threw his hand far to his side and the man was thrown fiercely into the cold stone walls of the room. The center man did not charge.
“Do you fear me?” he asked the man, who replied with only silence. “Oh, nothing left to say, have you? A loss for words?” Theran ran his fingers through his beard again. “Ah, yes. A perfect idea.” He raised his hand again as he began to close his hand very slowly. The man dropped his sword and shield as he grabbed his neck in a frenzied panic. “This is how you die, fool.”
The man fell to his knees as he tried to pry invisible hands from his neck. He could feel the insides of his throat being crushed. The pain made him dizzy and weak, but he continued to struggle. Theran stared at him with his proud eyes and tightened his magical grip. And then, quite suddenly, the hands released from the man’s neck and he fell to his chest. His companion had recovered his senses and was once again charging towards the spell caster.
Theran stared at the man’s eyes as he charged forward. He held his sword firmly and to the side. Theran read his movements and quickly ducked a slice intended relieve him of his head. He grabbed the man’s outstretched arm and quickly flipped him to the ground. As soon as his back his the ground, Theran’s foot was at his throat. Theran looked into the man’s eyes once more.
“Ah, another faithful servant to the light has fallen. I do fear, my son, that you are beyond redemption.” The man’s angry eyes soon filled with fear. Theran kneeled down to the man and placed his finger tips on his forehead. “Your sacrifice shall be painless.” He quickly pulled his hand back from the man’s head, who died instantly.
The man who once stood in the center of his peers now stood alone. He mustered what little strength he had to bring himself to his feet. He held his sword and shield once more, although very loosely. He stared into Theran’s eyes as he struggled to breath through his crushed throat.
“You,” he said in a deep, scratched voice. “You shall fall.”
“By your blade?” mocked Theran.
“Not by blade,” struggled the man.” But by my cause.” Theran nodded at him slightly, and he returned the nod. He watched the wizard raise his hand toward him again. “Do your worst.” The man gasped deeply for air. “But I die with dignity.”
Theran’s hand closed and the man felt the invisible hands on his throat once more. By instinct alone he struggled to free himself as he quickly fell to the ground. He kept his eyes on Theran’s, the image of a mage’s pride being his last.
