Featured Novel: The Shadow Channeler | Chapter 27 ('Just a simple uber w00t shall do it :)') | 03/08/08 | Rated 5 Stars

Chapter 23











Sandarus let out a piercing shriek
as the bodies closed in on him. He had come fully in contact with the fact that
he was well beyond insane. The laughing…Their ghoulish laugh, dismembered
body-parts… Sandarus slowly opened his sack and took out the sword that his
father had given him. He remembered grimly that his father had chosen to give
it to Sandarus over Falcun after he had married his daughter, saying that he
was a much better warrior. Yeh, well he
might withdraw that compliment right now, he thought, as he poised it over
his throat. There was nothing left. They all hated him. Falcun hated him. The
damned Zuthis that he had killed twice hated him. The mammoth Hog hated him. Everyone
did. Now they were all dead, surrounded him, forcing him to pay because of the
suffering he had caused on them. Sandarus had seen men insane before, shaking
his head and praying to God that such an illness would never strike him. Now it
had. Fully aware of his senses, able to reason perfectly, but the unreasonable
and unthinkable happening in reality, this was what it must feel like. He would
end it quick. He slowly took one last breath of air, and thought about his life
up to now. Born on a farm far from Dreadnar…Having to march there every day
with gallons of water on his back…His father always hating him…His acceptance
into the prison as a guard…His slowly way as he round up…Find Falcun and
everything up to here…His wife…Her de-“NO!” screamed Sandarus suddenly, “I
swore an oath not to speak of this. Nothing shall ever change that. Not even my
form of psychosis.” The corpses were close now, their empty and partially
filled eye sockets glaring down at him, in a horrific laugh. Shaking his head
for the final time, Sandarus brought down the blade, but was interrupted. A
massive shine of light blinded him, and, it seemed, damaged all of the bodies,
as they let out a blood-chilling yell and retreated. Standing there, bond in
cloth, was a creatuer. Sandarus did a double take, blinked his eyes, and looked
onwards. In front of him, was the last damn thing he’d expect in his insanity.
It was the High Oracle.











The group of bandits watched in
amusement as the man looked around in horror, and slowly removed a sword from
his pack. They got ready for combat, believing their spell had failed, but they
chuckled as the man pointed it at his own throat. They stood there impatiently,
waiting for the man to impale himself, so they could take what the man had and
leave. As the man brought down the sword, a blinding light enveloped the small
clearing. A strange, clothed figure stood there, actually quite taller then the
men there. His companion instantly drew his sword, and charged at the figure.
With little effort, the thing grabbed the man’s arm, who screamed in pain in
return. The monster let go of the man, and ran back to the other, staring in
horror at his arm. He drew back in disgust, as a part of the man’s arm had
turned to ice. Both of the men took off, but they knew that whatever that thing
was, it was much faster then they. It caught up to them in mean seconds, and
grabbed both of the men by the neck. They both felt a cold sensation flowing through
their body, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe any more. The man opened his mouth
in horror, but suddenly he noticed he couldn’t. The last feeling he felt was
pure terror as the ice engulfed his vision.







Zuthis whipped around from his lying
position, and, in less then a second, had a knife at the throat of a rather
pale man in a black cloak. The man didn’t seem particularly daunted that he was
about to die, so Zuthis stopped for a second. He would ask where he was first.
Suddenly, the door behind him burst open, and someone had his arm around him,
trying to choke him. Then, suddenly, he froze. He turned around, and saw the
crying face of Hogar. He had not been getting choked. He had been in one of Hog’s
rather uncomfortable hugs. He suddenly felt pretty stupid. “Hogar? What are we
doing here? What happened? That man…The arrow? Wh-why aren’t I d-dead?” So many
questions, so much to answer. “Zuthis…You’re alive. I can’t believe it. Oh…Yes,
you must be very confused. I’ll try to condense it for you.” So Hog told Zuthis
of everything that had happened up to this point, and Zuthis told Hog
everything that he had done up to this point. Suddenly, Hogar started laughing.
“The man…That bound me…Was y-you? Gahaha!” Zuthis gave a weak smile, and look around at the man in black, who was
looking at him in annoyance and smoothing out the creases Zuthis had caused. Hogar
noticed where he was looking, and stopped laughing. He was suddenly extremely
silent, and the silence caught on. Then, he spoke in such a soft voice that
Zuthis did a double-take to make sure Hog was speaking, and not the other man. “You…Thank
you so much…My friend…I was sure he was dead. I don’t have enough money to show
how thankful I am, but I still have quite a bit. Take it. Take as much as you
desire, friend. You have our eternal gratitude.” The man looked at the money,
then dismissed it with a gesture. “I do not need money, my good sir. I have
heard that…You are a mercenary…Correct?” Hogar looked at Zuthis, who smiled his
perfect smile in return. “Yes, of course, the finest in Drea-err…I mean, the
finest in Rilos! Why would you ask?” “You may keep your money; that is not what
I desire. I am in need of a fighter’s service. About a day ago, my companion
and I were on our way here, we were mugged by an extremely rough group of
brigands. They took all our belongings, and I am left with nothing. I had
managed to escape, because, as you have seen, I am an adept mage, but my friend
had no such advantage. He is still there. I am sure he is not dead, but that is
as far as my estimations go. We must hurry. Do you accept that task?” Once
again, Hog looked at Zuthis, who nodded, and they both smiled. Their new start
was already starting, much easier then Hogar had anticipated, and Zuthis was
there with him. “Why, of course! Why wouldn’t we! A real mercenary team always
takes a task! Let’s go! We’ll do it for free! Those men don’t stand a chance against
us! Ahahaha!” Nodding with the slightest of a smile appearing on his lips, the
man in the black cape patted the giant on the back, and moved towards the door.
Suddenly, as he touched the man, a spark erupted through his body. He stared at
the man for a good, long, second, then turned around and continued on, as they
followed him to the entrance to the sewers. Hog had already guessed that he
would leave on a job as soon as he had gotten to Rilos, so he was adequately prepared.
Zuthis, as the man in the black cape had already noticed, was also adequately
armed, but had no armor. Shrugging, Zuthis drew a certain pattern of runes in
the air, and he felt a light weight appear all over his body. He was fully
covered in light-weight leviathan-bone armor.







As they walked, Hog mentioned to
Zuthis that Sandarus was still not here. Although Hogar traveled at an alarming
rate, the man should have long been here by now. Something was wrong. Zuthis,
who was rather annoyed by Sandarus, having first put him in jail and started
this whole damned thing, shrugged. Hogar had his doubts, though, and said that
he may head out a few miles tomorrow to check up on the poor fellow. He may
have gotten taken by bandits, which was more then possible in these dark times,
especially on that desolate path…Then, Hogar suddenly realized something. He
had left out the war. The gfhii. All that was happening. He looked at Zuthis,
happy as can be, beaming at everything, just damn glad to be alive. Nothing was
wrong with him. His life was perfect right now. He was doing what he wanted to.
Hog kept his mouth shut, and looked grimly behind him, towards the sea. For a
split second he stopped, then continued. Must be nothing, he thought. Looking
back once more, he shook his head and kept walking, for what he saw made his
features darken. He saw smoke on the horizon.











That spark…The one he felt when he touched the man…Could it
be? Hhhmmmm...,He thought, Interesting… Could it be? He dismissed
the thought. Impossible. The thing he had been looking for, right under his
nose, all these years? In the same continent, even? Besides, he reasoned, there
was no way to find out…Or…Was there? A dark smile danced on his lips.

Chapter 24








The decapitated assassin looked up
at his body in annoyance. That sfickus was turning out to be worth much more
then originally thought. He made a mental note to demand a higher bounty. “Kigran Herbus,” he said in a rather
angry voice. His head slowly lifted off the ground and re-attached itself to
the rightful body. A bowl of magic with a
pinch of necromancy, thought the assassin happily, always a useful tool. When the head was successfully placed on the
neck, he heard several bones cracking into place and felt a strange sensation
as muscle tissue and skin was rejuvenated. The spell was successful, although
bringing yourself back from the dead was not something that an average mage
could do. Even one as skilled as he was tired. The man ran his hands through
his hair in exasperation, only to find that he had none. He groaned as he
remembered that damned pet -god knows what it was- who had attacked him and
massacred his face. Using slightly more power then intended, he reattached his
hanging eyeball and teeth into their sockets, respectively. He collapsed on the
bed, knowing that that damned sfickus had got away again, and due to his
fatigue, had cemented his lead over him. He looked out the window, towards
Dreadnar. That damned place. Never again. He was determined to kill that
wanderer before he could leave. Just as he drifted off into sleep, the whole
building shook and catapulted him into the wall, successfully lodging the
hanging picture around his neck. Swearing in annoyance, he got up, a now-ragged
glint of gold emerging from his cloak, and wondered what the hell was going on.
No time for rest. Something was happening, and damn him if he wasn’t part of
it. He grabbed the first weapon he could find, and made his way out towards the
door, brandishing a rather elegant and long table leg.





They were at the gate of the
outpost, and, as foreseen, they would not surrender, nor let them pass. Volkern
sighed. He had neither the time nor the patience for this. He had no quarrel
with Draknius, but if they would not allow them entrance, then he had no other
option. Volkern rose at full height, and armed himself with a gfhice weapon,
called a Gashinus. It was a sword,
just a regular sword, nothing intricate about it. The coup de grace was, actually, that the blade was a good seven feet
long. Beared by a six foot ten figure, Volkern reminded everyone who saw him
why he was their king. He stepped outside, as light flooded through the moving
tent. He chuckled slightly when he saw archers lining up to attack them.





Hazul was lost. He couldn’t breathe.
He couldn’t see. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t move. The crowds of people were
waves themselves, washing him, throwing him off his feet, clawing at him, in a
mad panic. He was torn between two options. See what was happening, and
possibly offer help, or get the bloody hell out of this place. He knew that
after killing a man, assassin or not, then not paying for his room, staying and
possibly getting himself killed was not the best idea he had heard. He had
decided, then, to get to a form of transportation -that is to say, boat- and now
regretted it. The whole damned city was on the dock, people being thrown into
the water, being trampled, and, the thing that made Hazul cry, a ten year old
child calling for his mom. For one split second, just one, he had the urge to
grab the kid and bring him with him. He was about to. He really was. Then,
suddenly, he was washed away by the crowd, and Hazul cried out for the child,
but he was gone. Red from tears of sadness and anger for the carelessness of
these people, he wondered angrily why that stupid kid hurt him so. He then
realized he reminded him of himself. Hazul angrily battered his way with the
butt of his sword, his hand, and one very annoying royal tax collector.





The assassin did a double take; to
make sure what he was seeing was true. This was the stuff of legends and old
wives’ tales. This was the ultimate theat. This was the gfhice army. As the
outpost’s pitiful defenses lined up, he all saw the fear and desperation on
their faces. He chuckled, and continued walking towards the out wall, of which
he guessed lied the just of the army. Then, what he saw caused even him to gasp.
A massive figure rose and blocked out the sunlight, bearing a terrifying sword.
That man- or creature -was at least twice the size of him. “Time to go…,” he
said happily, with a slight crack in his voice, turning on his heels, and
trying to act normal as he ran for his life.





The concept of time travel is a
baffling experience that has confused the most brilliant magicians for years.
They could cast the spell, oh yes, that was not the problem. There was no
disadvantage to time traveling. The problem was when it was used as an aftereffect.
Teleportation, especially over large distances, is extremely risky. When
casting the spell, even over a mile or so, it could age the person months in
advance or previous, sometimes, even years. This was extremely risky for many
people, and that is why teleportation is spoke of by few and tried by an even
smaller amount. Now, if you haven’t already guessed, the baby gfhice’s teleportation
had more then a chance to be fatal. If the time travel would have altered his
age, even just by a month in previous, the poor baby would have no longer
existed. It was luck, or perhaps fate, that his age had been altered by just
one year to the future, and due to their strange metabolism, that is all it
needed to be as tall and smart as Sandarus.





Sandarus ignored the two men who
suddenly appeared. He ignored the great flash of light, the battle, and the
killing of the two men. It was just another part of his madness, although, he
was grimly happy that the cadavers were gone. As he once again picked up the
sword, his hand was suddenly grabbed by a clothed figure. Sandarus screamed as
his hand went suddenly painfully numb. “Rise, mortal,” said the figure, in a
deep voice, “Your nightmare is over. The committers have paid for their actions.”
Sandarus slowly got up, and looked at the figure, face to face. He grabbed his
sword, but had no urge to attack. “Who the hell are you? You have out of a
damned tree! Where did you come from? And what in the name of Dread was happening to me?” The clothed
figure smiled, and sat down, gesturing Sandarus to do the same. He cautiously
declined. The figure shrugged. “Who I am? I am afraid I do not know. All that I
remember is blackness, then appearing here…In the flash of light…And I
immediately saw what those men were doing to you…I could not let them continue.
What they were doing? Ah, well they were casting a spell on you, my friend. Tormentius Dementias, I believe. May I
ask, who are you?” Sandarus starred at the figure, jaw drooped at how elegantly
and politely this man spoke. “S-so I was not going insane? Truly? Oh, thank
Dread!” he said, laughing. “Insane?” the figure chucked, “far from it, my
friend. I have no knowledge of this land, but it seems to be a rather desolate
and dangerous place. What would one such as yourself be doing here, if I may
ask?” Sandarus sighed as he finally sat down to begin his story, “I am
Sandarus, son of Guimehr, and a former Elite Guard Captain for the city of
Dreadnar. My life was going great…All until that damned day. The damned day
when that prisoner showed up…” And so, Sandarus recited everything that had
happened, from that beginning day to this point, doing his best to leave out
the part of how he ‘killed’ Zuthis.








“They are at the outpost at
Draknius, sire,” said the messenger, who Regius dismissed in annoyance. Nothing
was going well. He was ready to retire, when, suddenly his son gets killed, and
now, possibly the biggest war in history was going to being, right about the
time when he should be harvesting his squash and potatoes in his small farm
house. He could not end the bloodline here. He just could not. Dreadnar needed
a king, and they would have one. Just not who they were expecting. Nor could he
have one more son, for he was much too old. There was one more way. Not one he
could attest to, but something that he had to do. These were hard times, and it
was his last chance. He would find the last of his bloodline. He would find his
illegitimate son.

Chapter 25








Hog watched in terror as the arrow
flew towards Zuthis, hitting him in the heart. As the face full of
determination twisted in pain, then finally went limp. He felt himself moving
towards the body, knowing it was too late. Then, he felt a knife at his own
throat. Then, he was back, walking in the dank and dark sewers with Zuthis, and
the man in the black cloak. Hog looked at Zuthis once more, and suddenly
doubted if they should do this job. Then, the man, whom they were following,
stopped rather abruptly, causing Hog to almost crush himself and Zuthis.
Apologizing, Hogar looked up at the door, where a stream of light pierced the
darkness. “This is it. Are you both ready?” said the figure; in a voice
trembling with what Hog thought was anticipation. Zuthis looked at Hog, who
nodded, and drew two massive battle axes from his left and right, respectively.
Hogar looked at Zuthis, who was looking at the floor, his face shadowed. He
must be preparing a spell, Hog reasoned. As he began to knock on the door, the
man in black stopped his hand, and shook his head. “COMBUSTIO COMPLETIO!” yelled
the figure, and Hog jumped back just in time as a massive column of fire
charred the door, and an unlucky soul who happened to be near it. The figure
then shouted another spell, and the fire suddenly turned into a massive dragon
head, engulfing several surprised men. The man in black was obviously
concentrating on controlling the dragon, so Hogar was left the unofficial rank
of bouncer. He swang, slashed, banged and tackled as many men as he could,
trying to keep the chanting man safe.





Zuthis only now realized that he was
still incapacitated by his wound. Dodging a figure with a horizontal spin in
midair, he felt a stabbing pain, and barely dodged a deadly swing of a sword.
He kept dodging, running, jumping, until his spell was finished. Just as several
men back him into a corner, he finished the spell, or, that is to say, he let
hell loose. A massive, semi-transparent barrier emerged from his hands,
knocking everyone except him, Hog and the man, back. The whole group of men was
pinned to the other wall, giving them the opportunity to advance. About halfway
through the room, however, Zuthis could hold the spell no longer, and the
bandits fell to the floor. Angry and annoyed now, the men charged at them, all
except one, their leader, whom Zuthis guessed was waiting for the right time to
strike. He was not charging like the rest. He was waiting there, a tactic that
Zuthis thought could turn deadly for Hogar, who was fighting several foes at
once. It was time for some real back up,
reasoned Zuthis. He removed the double short-swords from his holsters, twirled
them several times, and charged into the battle. He easily overpowered many of
the men, parrying one attack and slashing with the other, striking with both
and kicking the man, knocking several of them back. During a short pause, he looked
for their escort. He couldn’t find him, but he did believe he made out a
pitch-black figure making his way behind the battle, to the opposite wall,
where a tied figure was. As he heard Hogar shout, Zuthis instantly threw
himself to the ground, as a reflex. Just in time. Hog, spinning himself as well
as his double axes around, was defeated the brigands en mass. The leader, seeing this, did the same as Zuthis, and held
out his leg, tripping this giant, and causing Hogar to crush an unfortunate man
who happened to be making his way out the door in a black cape. Pushing Hogar
off him with alarming strength, he whispered in Hog’s ear, “My companion is
freed, he has already left. Make your way outside as fast as you can. They’ll
be too afraid with as confrontation of the city watch.” And just like that, the
figure was gone, possibly off to tell Zuthis the same, or to be the first to
leave. There was still four men left, and Hog could obviously see they were
much more skilled then the other drunkards. Hogar feinted a swipe, and began to
turn around and run, and sighed in relief when Zuthis did the same. That was
when his injury started to kick in. He fell to the ground, in obviously a
tremendous amount of pain. He could not move. He didn’t care if they caught
him, maybe that would hurt less than the damn arrow wound! Fortunately, this
had better results then anticipated. Focused on chasing Hog, the men did not
see the diminutive shadow fall to the floor. Because of this, they were
unsuspecting to the catapult it caused them when they tripped on him, most of
them missing the door, flying straight into the wall, causing several broken
noses. Hog only noticed now that they had extremely long, blond hair. He
scratched his own bald head in confusion, but now was not the time to think
about that. He ran back, grabbed Zuthis and began to run. Hogar was a fast
runner, but, he realized to his great dismay, only on straight distances. The winding
path of the sewer presented a challenge. The leader and one other man recovered
from their trip and began chasing after them once more, rapidly closing the
gap. Just before the men were close
enough to slash at Hogar, he breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw the
final, straight path towards the outside world. He began to run, now, trying to
match the speed he had ran to reach Rilos. Impossible, he reasoned finally,
with Zuthis on his back and he himself tired to the point of collapse. Ignoring
both thoughts, he ran as fast as he could, knocking over a rather flustered and
surprised man in a black cape near the exit.





The
two burst into the morning sky, and Hog only realized now how long they had
been under there. He kept a light pace, however, until he safely reached inside
the city. He watched in amusement as the thieves ran out, saw them heading
towards the city, and ran right back in. He alerted a city watch of the colony
down there, who, surprised, said he’d send a small group to take care of it as
soon as possible. He looked around; about to congratulate the man in black for
his success, then saw in dismay that he was nowhere to be found. Ah well, he thought, at least we did a good deed for the man. Zuthis, now waking up,
asked Hogar to put him down, and the two walked over to his now-favorite inn,
The Platapurrien Puffer. They ordered a drink, and sat down. When Zuthis asked
Hog to please not interfere with any
brawls in the bar, they both laughed uneasily.





Volkern gave the order, and the
massive walls fell at the might of their battering rams. He ordered them to
keep the casualties to a minimum, but do what they must to secure to docks and
get enough ships for them. He knew that they would indefinitely not have enough
space for the whole colony on one ship, therefore, he had organized it so that
the best of them would come on the first voyage, and the leader’s of each ship
would sail back, alone, getting the rest. He had done it so because, if
anything happen to the ships during the trip back, if the food runs out, or, if
the humans decide to rebel and attack the small rest of the army, the loss
would be a minimal. Still, he continued, frowning as he smashed down a small
barricade with his gashnius, there is no way that the death of the rest could
be beneficial, so he had ordered the leaders of the ships to either come back
with every one, or do not come back at all. He had no need for traitorous gfhii
in his kingdom. So far, no blood had been shed, save for a few soldiers who
were much too bold. He nodded to himself in approval, as this was going far
better than expected. He saw the dock in the distance, and quickened his pace,
his troop following him. Then, seeing the chaos and mayhem going on ahead of
him, he sighed to himself, and thought about how he would go about this.





“Sire, it is confirmed now,” said a
rather nervous messenger, hopping from one foot to another, “The ghfice army
have laid siege to the Draknar outside.” The king nodded, gave one of his rare
get-out-of-my-face smiles, and looked with boredom into his ever-full wine
glass. He drank it in one gulp, wincing slightly. He never had a head for alcohol.
Perhaps that was why he loved it so much…So that he could overcome his weakness
to it. Suddenly, a man in white opened to the door. No…It can’t be…The man
walked up to him, and greeted the king in proper etiquette. You sfickus…Do not say what I think you’re
going to… “Hello, your majesty, I know we’re in times of turmoil, and you
are very stressed, but…” Don’t, Don’t, Don’t,
Don’t, Don’t, Don’t, Don’t,… “A few months ago, if I remember correctly,
during your speech, you seemed to have a sort of a…” Last chance, Last chance, Last chance, Last chance, Last chance… “And
I know that you have not treated lightly the others who have done this…So, just
think about it, it’s just to help you…It’s for you, not us…Your…Majesty…” The hesitance
at the end was because he saw that ‘his majesty’ was beginning to turn red like
a cherry-tomato. He handed him a card, and Regius slowly read it, making sure
it was what he thought it was. Nodding to himself solemnly, he walked up to the
man, wine bottle in hand. He tapped the man on to shoulder, who froze, and
turned nervously around. “Y-your majesty? Y-yes?” Regius smiled, “Would you
like some wine, my fine sir?” The man’s face suddenly brightened up. “Oh yes,
your majesty! After such a long, hard day! I’d love a glass.” Regius nodded,
and took the wine bottle, and, rather then pouring a glass, took the bottle and
smashed it on the man’s head. Satisfied with himself, he dusted off his hands
and returned to the throne, where two guards looked at each other, rolled their
eyes, and began to clean up the mess.