Part 12
Cold Heart and Empty Chest
“Then let’s go,” the girl said standing.
“Should we tell your uncle?” Sworder asked.
“No time.”
“Where shall this take them?” Namic said.
“Wherever it is, it shall be interesting,” Ranin said.
“Um, how do we get down,” the girl said looking around.
The serving girl wiped her eye as she rose and feigned a smile. “This way,” she said.
Sworder sighed as he followed them off the roof.
“He follows her without fervor,” Ranin said.
“Yet dedicated. But then, what else can he do?” Namic said.
The serving girl grabbed two coats, handing one to the girl. The group started through the streets as it began to rain. They traveled through the emptying streets, as people took shelter within the nearby buildings. The shower soon swelled into a storm, and sheets of rain came pouring down on the group as they arrived before a tall thin building.
“This way, out of sight,” the serving girl said, leading the two towards a small nearby building stationed across from the tall building looming over the block. Huddled in the entry, the group looked across the rain swept streets. “It’s that building over there,” the serving girl said, pointing to the tall building.
“Then we should go,” the girl said.
“As you wish,” Sworder said with a sigh. There was a flash of light as he staged and out walked a light blue cloak.
“Stay here,” the girl told the server, who in turn nodded.
“What does your father look like?” the cloaked figure asked the serving girl, tapping his staff against the ground.
“My father…” the serving girl said. “He’s tall.”
“What was he wearing?” the cloaked figure demanded.
“Uh; a blue surcoat… and a ring like this one,” the server said, holding up her hand. On her right index finger there was a small iron ring with a single letter engraved on it.
“Let us go,” the cloaked figure said.
“Wait,” the server said. “Are you a Kazan?”
“Indeed. In this form call me the Vassal of Ice,” the cloaked figure said, and with that the Vassal started off across the street.
“We’ll be back, just wait,” the girl told the server before running after him.
The Vassal tried the handle but the door was locked. With a tap of his staff against the lock, ice began forming on the door handle. The door flew open, as the lock shattered.
“Hey, who’re you?” said a man on the other side.
“You don’t need to know,” the Vassal said cracking his staff on the man’s head.
“Ow! Hey!” but another swipe of the Vassal’s staff silenced him.
“Sworder, be careful,” called the girl, as she entered.
“He is well,” the Vassal of Ice stated, continuing on through the building.
“Hey! Wait up,” the girl said, following the Vassal.
“What do you take me for?” a voice demanded from behind a door, down the hall.
“Wait here,” the Vassal said, as he crossed the hall and opened the door, from which the voice came.
“Who’s this?” the leader asked.
“That is of no concern to you,” the Vassal said, striding in.
“He sure is confident,” Ranin said.
“I doubt it is misplaced,” Namic answered.
“Hold it,” another man said, reaching for the Vassal.
“Silence,” The Vassal of Ice said, tapping the tip of his staff against the man’s hand, and the hand froze. “I am looking for a man.”
“Black Magic!” a third man gasped.
“Shut up,” the leader said, “Don’t you recognize a Shadow Warrior when you see one?”
“A Kazan!”
The Vassal of Ice looked around the room; a crowd of men, thirty strong, stood before him. His quickly surveyed the garb of each until he found the man he was looking for.
Pointing to the man, the Vassal spoke; his voice was stern and cold. “I will be taking that man,” he said.
“Like hell you will,” One man said, drawing his sword.
The Vassal’s staff lunged out stabbing the man in the forehead. The man recoiled from the blow and every man save two reacted, drawing their weapons.
“Hold,” the leader said, unmoving, “No need to waste good men on a Kazan.”
“So it begins,” Namic said.
The suit of armor on the far wall began to move. The Vassal of Ice shot a freezing strike at the armor, but as it moved the ice broke.
“Where did he get a Kazan like that?” Ranin said.
“Shadow Warriors of animated objects are not uncommon, though in Selia they are more rare,” Namic said.
The Vassal froze the armor’s feet to the floor, but the armor was not slowed as it broke the ice on its feet.
“Our friend should be careful,” Namic said. “This is not his only opponent.”
The armor unsheathed its sword as it slowly advanced. The Vassal readied his staff. The armor slashed at the Vassal, who backed away tapping his staff against the sword. A wave of ice issued from the staff covering the sword. The armor paused, before smashing the sword against its chest, shattering the ice.
“A relentless foe,” Namic said.
“To defeat an unstoppable force…” Ranin said.
The armor continued its attack. The Vassal waited for his opportunity. Pointing his staff at the armor, a sphere of ice blasted out from the end of the staff into the helmet. The armor grabbed its helmet attempting to break the ice, but the ice kept spreading as the Vassal kept his staff pointed, focused on the armor.
“We may have to use all our dice,” the leader said.
A large tongue struck out from the shadows wrapping around the Vassal’s staff. The Vassal shook his staff and the tongue began to freeze. Shivering, the tongue immediately retracted to a bizarre lizard like creature whose eyes, strangely, moved independently of each other.
“A Chameleon!” Ranin exclaimed.
“Quite an exotic Kazan,” Namic said. “This man seems to have connections outside of the Kingdom.”
The Chameleon disappeared into the column which it clung to.
“How do you fight something you cannot see?” the leader said.
The armor smashed the ice on its helmet and began to attack. The Vassal of Ice dodged the armor’s strikes but the tongue shot out once again from the dark, forcing the Vassal to continue on the defense.
“They have him on the run,” Ranin said.
“How long can they keep him there?” Namic replied.
The tongue retracted to the Chameleon. One eye kept a dead lock on the Vassal, while the other stared off across the room. Slowly it disappeared.
“I see,” the Vassal said.
“He has discovered its weakness,” Namic said.
“What?” Ranin asked.
The armor struck at the Vassal again. The Vassal tapped his staff against it. Ice started forming on the sword. The tongue shot once more.
“They have moved as he planned,” Namic said.
The Vassal leapt back firing an ice blast at the Chameleon. The ice blast struck it on the back but the beast simply began to dissipate. Yet the ice chunk remained visible as it moved along the wall.
“Has he won?” Ranin said.
“No,” Namic said.
“Look at what I found,” A thug said, dragging the girl with a dagger to her neck, “Drop your weapon.”
“Sworder,” the girl whispered, trembling with fright.
The hand gripping the staff loosened, then the grip tightened, and a shot ice exploded from the staff. The ice blast struck the thug, who pulled the blade back against the girl, but the blade was covered in a thick sheet of ice, protecting the girl from harm.
The Vassal of Ice leapt at the man, and for a moment the form of Sworder burst out of the Vassal. The thug threw the girl to the side and turned to face the oncoming attack. A blinding light burst from Sworder as he closed the distance, illuminating the entire room, before being swallowed up by a thick darkness.
“This is bad,” Namic said. “He has been unleashed. There is no telling what he might do.”
“What!” cried the man in dismay, but before he could utter another word, a large cutlass sliced through his frozen hand. The thug gave a cry, this time of pain as he staggered back, clutching the wound where his hand once lay.
Ranin withdrew, saying nothing.
The room seemed to fall under a heavy darkness as shadows grew against the wall. Yet all these shadows were but rays of sunlight compared to the darkness now standing before their eyes. Many of the men staggered backwards till the walls prevented their continued retreat.
There before them was a short figure more than a head taller than Sworder, shrouded with the darkness. Wisps of blackest night seemed to stretch out from the inky black armor, as a cloak stained with overwhelming hate. In his hand he held a bloody cutlass glistening as starlight; a stark contrast to his defenses.
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