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Eimhir Jasvinder slipped in and out of the crowds of people that swarmed the large marketplace. A dark grey cloak hooded her features and bellowed out from behind her like a cape. It wasn't unusual for people to walk around fully clothed at this time of year as it was merely 2 weeks from the beginning of Samhain and the biting wind had begun to creep in.
She didn't stand out as she slipped past stalls in the bustling square in the centre of Lármad, sometimes slipping her hand out of her cloak to grab an apple or a small vile from under the noses of distracted stall holders.
Although her features were concealed by the dark material of the cloak her eyes still flashed bright blue and a dull ash brown hair hung down by her shoulders in a fishtail braid. She hated the colour blue, it reminded her of 'His Majesty The King'.
Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought of his title. He didn't deserve it, after everything he'd done.
Her one sole purpose today had been to obtain food and barter for a new set of daggers. The others had been lost several days beforehand due to her carelessness in the depths of the forest that surrounded Lármad.
She had acquired the food and had even managed to gather some small tubes of Belladonna, a deadly poison, and a couple of pieces of gauze, lest she'd get injured in the coming winter months.
She'd yet to find a good enough weapons arsenal to buy daggers from and she was beginning to get restless. The sun was quickly dipping west, behind the trees of the forest and she had to find a place to stay before the darkness came.
She really need those daggers though.
She sighed quietly. She was agitated. The one day that she decided to come to the market, risk her neck, to actually bother with safety and protection, there was no daggers. None. Nada.
As she prowled across the square a blue cloaked figure bashed into her. His green eyes flickered to meets her's just as she ducked her head down behind the cloak. She snarled. It was not her day.
She felt her temper rising like a whirl wind inside her. She clamped down on it quickly, biting her lip in the process as she clamped down on her lip, as she clenched her teeth. She could taste the bitter tang of iron from the blood that escaped her bruised lip.
She cursed colourfully which only made it worse. The tempest swirled up again. She had to get out, now.
Her cloak swirled behind her as she made towards the exit of the large market square. She walked in a hurried pace but she, made no move to run, it would stir up too much suspicion. She slipped into a dark alleyway and hurried down the cobbled street towards the looming coniferous trees.
It was still cracking inside her. The Majik, waiting to let loose. She clenched one hand on the silver necklace at her neck, a silver feather and a dog tag, and the other on a long stiletto dagger at her side.
The temperature dropped significantly as she slithered along the streets. She felt murderous. She didn't know why. The loss of her daggers couldn't have made her that angry, could they?
She frowned underneath the cloak and kept heading towards the towns edge. Only 4 blocks now.
It was freezing. Another side affect of her powers. She shivered and pulled her cloak around her. She strutted out onto a busier road. As if her presence had chilled the town goers, which it did except they didn't know that, everyone along the street pulled their cloaks tighter together.
The coolness only made her more murderous as she stalked along the street into another alley. Only two more blocks. She wasn't surprised to see leaves swirling around her, caught in her whirl wind.
The giant coniferous trees, of the Dryhr Forest, hung over the never ending wall that was fast approaching. The last block, Eimhir sprinted. She made it to the gate, past the blue caped guards and into the thicket.
She ran and ran and ran until she was far enough away from the town and away from suspicion. She stopped beside a giant oak tree, black tendrils, not grey like her usual ones, spilling from her finger tips but just as quick as it had sprung upon her it ceased to be.
Her anger disappeared almost instantly, the leaves that swirled around her fell to the ground, the cool breeze that had followed her out of the town vanished, the black tendils floated away.
She sagged to the ground, exhausted. Another 'great' part of the Majik she had inherited from her mother, feelings that changed directions like the wind. She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the tree.
It was at times like this she wished Adair was with her. He would have known what to do. He would have been 22, fully developed in his powers and able to tell her what to do with hers. She had no idea what to do. Absolutely no idea.
She sighed and stood up from the ground. As she walked away from the oak tree she left a pile of autumn leaves, like tears, fallen from their holder.
~*~
Diomedes sat in his golden throne. It glittered in the early morning sunlight that filtered into the throne room through a giant glass dome above the dais where he sat. He was alone, save for a few of his most beloved Ravens that sat on the head of his throne.
He was extremely happy. Each day more and more Majik wielders were brought in to the dungeons by his precious Hunters and everyday his army was getting stronger and stronger. It was almost time for him to invade Falias, until then, he could wait.
Dimly lit fires circled the room on podiums. They illuminated the dim chamber, filling it with golden light that flickered on the walls. The flames seemed to whisper ancient languages but Diomedes didn't know if it was his Majik or if everyone could hear them. The flames flickered in his eyes as a knock resonated throughout the room.
"Enter." He boomed. The door creaked open to reveal one of his lesser Hunters. The Hunter possessed no powers, he was only decent with a bow. What was his name? Steven, Stefan, Siven.....
"Your Majesty." the Hunter said, bowing low. He had nerve. He never broke eye contact. Diomedes found himself glaring coldly at the man. The Hunter recoiled.
"Th..- There is news. The prince wishes me to tell you of his latest finding."
"Go on." The King urged. The flicker of his son's blue eyes appeared in his mind. His son was annoying to say the least but at least he was a warrior. He needed a suitable heir and the fact that his son was so soft left him the power to shape him into whatever he wanted.
Whatever he wanted. He smirked t himself. He had big plans for his son but first he had to deal with the annoyance on front of him.
"There.... There was a sighting in Lármad." The Hunter stammered. The King frowned. He hated that village. Peasants.
"Someone with... With w-w..wind powers, Your Highness"
The flames surged around the room and in his eyes. He scowled. He had killed every last one of them. The Hunter must have lied and if not, he would find the wind wielder himself.
"What is your name?" He asked, his voice low.
"Pardon, Your Majesty?"
"Your name?"
"Stepney." The Hunter, Stepney, whispered, barely audible.
"I'd tell you to address me as Your Highness or Your Grace but you won't need any reason to anymore, Stepney." He snarled.
Stepney whimpered in fear as the flames once again surged in Diomedes' eyes. It had been a good morning until his son and his good for nothing Hunters had ruined it.
"Be gone." He cried and with a flick of his hand all 12 podiums of fire met in the centre of the throne room burning Stepney to cinders.
Stepney's cry of pain was masked by Diomedes' booming laughter and as the as the flames died down the centre of the room became visible once more. Laying on the floor was a pile of cinders. The King sighed. He hated everything messy. He smiled dryly at the remains on the floor as he called a shaking servant into the throne room to clean it up.
The servant hurried in, hands shaking as she tried to sweep up the ashes. She kept sweeping them up and knocking them over, over and over again. It aggravated The King but he didn't want anymore ashes staining the marble floor this morning, it would cause too much hassle.
As the shaking servant swept the ashes from the floor Diomedes turned on the spot, swiftly changing into a midnight Raven. With a sweep of his wings he flew towards the glass dome in the ceiling, soaring right through it into the open sky. It was an inconvenience having to hunt down the wind wielder but someone had to do it and it seemed the wielder was inexperienced and easy to catch.
He hoped it would be quick. He hated playing fox and hound but most of all he hated people who ran.
~*~
Hello,
This took so long to write. I wrote it then I deleted it all cause I didn't like it the I wrote it again. On the plus side it's over 1.5k which is good!
Anything you don't get just let me know in the comments. I've added more words into the glossary so go check that out!
Also go check out the Meet the Characters chapter. Hmmm some people there you won't know but you'll find out later......
Anywho I hope you enjoyed this! Thanks for reading. Leave a vote or a comment if you liked this>>>
For now,
CGMT xxx