Nothing! Not a damn thing! Berek sat back on his haunches, fighting the urge to throw something. Even though he didn't expect to find anything, he couldn't let his ambitious dream get the better of him. This was only a minor setback; there had to be an opening somewhere around them. History proved rumors were based on factual events. He took a deep breath and covered his face with his hands to help clear his head. A small part of him began wondering if it'd be easier to kill Renard. Of course, there was the main reason he hadn't done so yet: his pet gargoyle Fech. Without the might of that gruesome creature he doubted Renard would've lasted a fortnight with his company. Berek let out his breath in thought. There had to be another spot.
Gilliam watched his nephew in silence and tried to imagine what the young man was thinking. He could see the frustration on the fighter's face after they finished their search within the grove. For anyone else, the cleric would've offered some words of encouragement, but he knew it would be wasted on Berek. His nephew was too proud to accept any token like that. He reminded Gilliam of Berek's father, his brother, in that way. Neither of them would ever ask for help, nor accept a show of sympathy. He was about to say something when the sound of a large object crashing through the brush caught their attention.
Gilliam rested his hand on mace's handle, straining his hearing for another sound. After a few seconds the cleric's patience was rewarded when voices drifted through the night air towards them. He glanced at his nephew and was pleased to see he heard the voices as well. Any further questions would have to wait as the fighter leapt to his feet and headed for the sound that had begun to sound like a scuffle. Gilliam said a quick prayer to Fallor before lifting his mace in preparation for the upcoming fight.
They could hear the shrill voice of one of the group ahead. A child, judging from its pitch. No, she was a Halfling. Berek could tell by the sight of her seconds before one of the men made a joke about Halflings. If it'd been another time and place, he would've congratulated himself on identifying her; it was by no means a simple task to do so. Instead, he concentrated on reaching the pair being held. There were only four bandits, but he doubted they could reach them in time without allowing his uncle to learn of his ability.
Gilliam sat crouched next to his nephew, waiting for what, he prayed, would be the appropriate time to intervene. While he lacked the ability to see at night, like Berek claimed he could, his hearing was excellent. After hearing the bandit's leader talk of killing the magic user — nothing wrong with that in his mind — he tensed. Like most clerics, he didn't trust magic users. In fact, he hated and feared them. A cleric's power came from their deity — they were nothing more than a conduit for the power they could yield. Mages, warlocks, druids, and other magic users took their power from the world around them and sought to be like the Gods. Indeed, he was certain that was their ambition despite what claims they made to the contrary.
Sensing the time to act was nearly upon them, Gilliam glanced at his nephew to see if Berek could sense it as well. It was the first time the cleric ever saw his nephew's face when he was using his night vision. The surprise at the sight of Berek's eyes forced a gasp from the well traveled cleric. "By Fallor... Your eyes..." He leaned backwards, away from the soft glowing emptiness of the fighter's eyes. The bush couldn't hold the cleric's weight, resulting in a chorus of breaking twigs, branches, and a dull thump on the soft ground.
Berek watched his uncle for a moment, this wasn't how he wanted him to find out and neither of them were ready. He wanted to say something, anything to calm the terrified look on Gilliam's face, but the sound of the bush gave away their location. Without wasting another second, Berek raised his hand and mumbled a strange word. Five balls of light, no larger than an insect launched from each of his finger tips towards the form farthest from them. The Halfling's attack was hidden from him by the positioning of the bandit he attacked. At least, it was well timed, he thought, rushing through the brush towards the remaining two.
Most times, bandits flee the moment one of their comrades are felled by an enemy. Many met an untimely end as their cowardice often caused them to run away, only to succumb to the creations of nature without their screams being heard. The three remaining stayed not out of loyalty or valor, but for the simple reason that everything happened faster than any of them thought possible. They were frozen by indecision, but that ended when the one to their right felt a burning pain in his stomach. Too late he realized his insides were falling to the ground from the large cut running his entire width. Before he hit the ground, his nearest comrade struggled against Berek, but his efforts were no match for a fighter that could see him and his movements as if they were in broad daylight.
Janessa watched in wonder as two of their assailants were overrun by a stranger leaping at them from the darkness. Numb with shock, she looked down at the shadow by her feet and the dark handled dagger sticking from the shadow's neck. She never killed anything before, not even an insect, and the blood on her hands caused her to tremble.
Lost in herself, Janessa didn't notice the gentle hands taking hold of her shoulders. Without thinking, she turned, burrowing her face into her friend's shoulder and began to cry.
Upon regaining her senses after being struck, Viola prepared a spell while holding her friend, never taking her eyes off the third figure as he struggled to aim a bow at their savior.
The second bandit put forth a good effort, but the fight was won when Berek sunk his sword into the thinly protected side of the bandit. The lightly armored section gave way to the powerful thrust of the sword as it pushed upwards into the man's heart. Lost in the immediate conflict, Berek noticed the third with a bow just as he fired. Ducking behind the bulk of the now dead bandit, he tried to pull his sword free from the body as the arrow missed his head.
Before he could fully dislodge himself and his sword, words of magic found his ears. Somehow, he knew the spell despite never hearing it before and watched the bandit's leather armor and clothing catch fire. The bandit began flailing about when he realized he was burning alive. His screams only lasted until the light from the flames caught a steel studded mace and gray robes lashing out from the darkness like a ghost. The bandit collapsed on the ground, his skull crushed from the weight of the weapon. Following his killing strike, Gilliam began kicking dirt on the man's clothing attempting to put out the fire. The sickening smell of burning flesh threatened to overwhelm those remaining.
Berek strode to his uncle to help him put out the fire the mage's ignition spell caused. When there was only smoke left, Berek turned to Gilliam. "Uncle, I'm sorry..."
Gilliam cleared his throat. "No matter. Poor devil had to be put out of his misery." Such was his rational way. He hesitated to help his own nephew with whom he'd spent the past five years with and that was all he could think to say. He wasn't sure why he felt a wave of fear a moment earlier. Berek had told him about his ability to see in the dark, hadn't he? It would only be natural that he'd have other magiks as well. He said he didn't know how he could see in the dark, but yet, he spoke the language of magic to kill the first bandit, just as that young girl did to the poor man at their feet. He didn't believe he'd been lied to, but his eyes... Berek's eyes had glowed with a black light. They were devoid of life, of a soul. Never in all of his years did Gilliam expect to see anything like that. Could his own flesh and blood have struck a bargain with some unholy beast from the depths of the Abyss? He wasn't sure what to think. He needed time, that was all. "Things are what they are. We cannot change the past no more than one can alter their own destiny."
Berek watched his uncle for a moment. Just like my father, he thought, remembering those difficult times so long ago. Not knowing what to say or do, Berek turned from his uncle and walked over to the two young women they saved.
"I... I killed him. I really killed someone." Janessa managed to calm down from her initial breakdown as the shock began to wear off.
"You saved my life, Jenny, both our lives." Viola was on the verge of her own breakdown, but she held it in check by the pride she felt towards her friend. Things had changed between them, yet remained the same. She thought it odd that she couldn't put her finger on what gave her such a feeling.
Viola raised her head at the sound of footsteps off to their side. She focused on a handful of defensive spells, the final ones she'd been able to retain earlier that day. When their savior stopped and she looked up into his face, there was something familiar about him. The price for being rescued was well known by many women folk on Pyrain. Few men of courage did so out of the kindness of their hearts. "Are we yours now, Crusader, or is it Conqueror?" Her eyes went to his blood-soaked sword.
Janessa gasped beside her, "It's him! He's the fighter that won the final match!" Thanks to her friend, Viola knew where she'd seen him before; grateful Janessa didn't mention anything about their winnings. From the look of the pouches the bandits had taken from Janessa it looked to be sizable. For all they knew, he now planned to rob them.
Berek listened to the young mage, unsure of what to say or do. It wasn't until he followed her gaze that he realized he hadn't sheathed his sword. Realizing his error, he wiped the blade off on the shirt of one of the bandits before sheathing it. "As far as I'm concerned, you belong not to me or any other. I wanted to ensure you both were safe."
Viola nodded. "Crusader, then. Yes, thank you, we are well now. We are in your debt."
Janessa forgot about her previous distress, watching Berek with a hungry eye. "We could offer ways to settle that debt if you so wish."
Despite himself, Berek smiled. "Thank you, mistress, but all I ask is you continue to cheer for me during my matches."
Berek knew how to work a crowd. In fact, he got a shriek of joy out of the Halfling and a mistrustful glance from the mage who elbowed her smaller companion.
"What brought you out here at this hour, if I may ask?" Viola asked.
Berek eyed her for a moment. Although the mage was young, she was nobody's fool and he needed to be cautious. Neither one of them were, which made them both dangerous should he be incorrect in his judgment. He was certain they'd be able to tell if he was lying, though he didn't know how. In the end, he decided to tell them the truth. What could it hurt? Maybe they'd be willing to help him to repay the debt. "I was looking for an entrance into the ancient tunnel of Hope. I've heard rumors of a treasure hidden there. I wish to claim it."
Janessa's eyes opened wide. "That's easy! It's just—" She stopped in thought. "That we don't know for less than half."
Only Janessa, Viola thought, voicing her own thought. "You take a huge risk in telling us that. If we knew where the entrance was, we could take the treasure ourselves." Or live off the meager coins thrown our way.
Berek smiled. "Not if it's guarded. Then you'll both be dead without my sword."
Janessa and Viola took a moment to think over his words. The Halfling was the first to speak. "Meet us at Hope's stables tomorrow after the last fight. By then, we'll have our decision."
Both Berek and Viola were taken aback; neither of them expected Janessa to take over the deal. Berek nodded after a moment. "Agreed. We'll meet at the stables after the final bout. Until then, ladies." He bowed, then turned towards Renard's camp. He still had a tiny thread of hope to cling to.
Gilliam listened to the conversation with little interest but a good deal of concern. When his nephew reached him, he turned and kept pace with the younger man. "Do you wish for me to accompany you tomorrow?" Gilliam asked out of politeness. He wanted to be alone, but he was too proud to say so.
Berek gave little hint to the turmoil raging in his heart and soul. "If you wish to. I'll not ask you to endanger yourself further." In silence, he begged his uncle to follow him. If he was religious, he would've prayed to whatever God would listen to help him mend the gap that had materialized between them.
Alone by the wall of Hope, Janessa and Viola discussed their plans in hushed whispers while Viola cast her levitation spell. In seconds, they were within the safe confines of the city walls, no wiser that the entire event was seen by two pairs of eyes, each interested for different reasons. One, an elderly human, standing hidden behind a group of trees, curious at the developments occurring; while the second pair of eyes sat atop the highest tower of the walled city, muttering to himself about how his master would not be pleased. His gaze took in everything transpiring below him, but his attention wasn't on the wayward fighter or cleric. Once the elderly mage disappeared from view by traveling the roads of magic to where he was staying, the gargoyle's great leathery wings spread from around his form they encircled to make him as invisible as possible. With a leap from his powerful legs, Fech circled once, then flew after the human, his brain already working on possible scenarios.
Author's Note: Sorry for posting late today. Some unexpected things came up. Don't worry, Chapter 6 will be up next Sunday. Thanks for reading. :)