Foxfire (The Blood Oath) old version

Chapter 13: Truth and Lies

    

       The three-rays were the blood-sigil for Earthcallers. Zelos cursed herself for not noticing the three lines carved on the man's palm.

The large man forced his hands out of the earth as if hurling up a heavy stone. The earth split in halves, forcing a tremor that shoved up mounds of earth. Zelos lost her balanced and fell backwards. She rolled over on the floor and squeaked in distress.

"I will send your head back to your masters, Assassin," the man barked.

Heaps of brown earth broke through the castle floor, shooting upwards like a geyser of stones. Zelos cut through larger stones with her thin blades. They came more and more like a hailstone from the heavens. The power of Evocation was little defense against such savage strength. Switching her blood-sigil to Alteration, Zelos channeled levitation and lashed herself to a wall to dodge the stones.

She felt the surge immediately.

Her blood was boiling with power. The sigil of Alteration was like opium. It sieged her mind with a sweet delirium, a raw rush of energy. Zelos attached her blades to form a double edged spear. She struck the head of her spear into the wall and pushed up, maintaining levitation to keep herself afloat in mid-air.

Now, she was far above the reach of the storming stones. Her head almost touched the roof of the store room. She pulled her body to the opposite direction that down became up and up became down to her. Watching the slave master dance in confusion was an amusement. The man could not see where she had gone.

She almost enjoyed watching him from above, but time was running out. An inward pressure from levitation was exacted upwards, keeping her feet glued to the roof. The forces of gravity had no hold over her.

Zelos detached her blades to become two swords again. She set their pointy ends downwards and allowed her body to fall freely from the roof. The drop gave her the force required. The Earthcaller turned too late to see her falling shadow.

Both blades broke into the man's shoulder, tearing through his earth hardened skin and severed his spine.

He did not bleed.

Zelos dropped a foot behind his neck and flung her body to a full somersault. She dropped on the floor, light as a feather, keeping her balance. Her blades entered their sheath at her back, but something odd trapped her gaze.

The man was still not bleeding. His skin took the pale colour of a rock and hardened quickly. It grew harder and harder and then BOOM! It exploded. Broken pieces of rocks shattered through the large door of the store room and exploded outside.

An Earthcaller was dead.

But she had lost the value of stealth. Hundreds fled the hall in a stampede. Dancing belles, drummers and musicians, nobles and slaves, drunken Bjaarman men in their stupor, all fought to force their way out of a single wide door. Death had come to play and none wanted to entertain.

She scanned the hall with her eyes.The large room was illuminated with bright flames burning from huge torches protruding from each gem decorated pillar. Tables were set in distinguished patterns, each one surrounded by panic stricken nobles. Guards stood alert on all corners of the building. It would be detrimental to her if she struck now. She had lost her target.

Zelos climbed a window, placing one foot on a pillar she pushed her figure upwards and climbed to the roof of the hall. There she sat quietly and watched silently. The night had worn deep. Zelos curled her hand around the hilt of her blade. She took a few steps back on the wooden beam. A cold breeze kissed her skin and it reminded her that she was alive. She pulled one of her blade and placed it horizontally on her stretched out left arm. The gleaming steel bore a long line of runic glyphs running down the centre. Blades wielded no magic of their own, except in the hands of Channellers who carved runes of magic to allow flow of energy.