“Shit, shit, shit.” The hooded man ran at a breakneck speed. At his heels, three figures darted through the snow, their footsteps melted the white powder. The smoldering beings hissed ash and embers from their mouths as they closed in on their prey.
Smashing through the snow covered foliage; the man was able to stay steps away from certain death. “Distance…I need distance.” The man huffed through painful lungs. As the words left his mouth, an icy blue flash flickered in his brown eyes. The man shot his arm toward the earth, his fingers outstretched. Ice leapt from his fingers and dug into the snow, forming a sheet of ice in his wake.
The first molten creature was too focused on his prize to notice the trap. Sliding on the ice, the manlike husk crashed into the ground in a heap of steam. The remaining creatures vaulted over the patch of melting ice and pressed on toward their prey, leaving their companion behind. The hooded man was not down, he spread his arms as wide as possible as he ran through the dense forest. Shards of ice grew where he touched the trees with his frosted hands. The jagged edges cut deep into the ash skin of his followers, their screams of pain echoed through the night. The man turned to revel in the success of trapping the monsters. He grinned as he grabbed a handful of twigs from the frozen ground. Blue flickered in his eyes once more as ice coated the twigs with a fine point.
“You don’t get to feast on my flicker tonight!” The man spat into the frozen air as he threw the ice knives at the trapped beings. Their howls of pain brought a deeper grin to the hooded man’s face. “Damn Runewalkers! I’ll kill you all!” The man cheered as he launched more icicles at the abominations.
After some time, the man was certain the Runewalkers were dead. Finally being able to breathe, the man took in his surroundings only to realize he was far from the road.
“Well you’ve done it now Trugard.” The man spoke to himself. “Too bad I’ll never learn to leave the mead alone.” Trugard jeered to himself. Turning his back to the pin cushioned Runewalkers, Trugard attempted to find his bearings. “Now what did the old man say? Find the brightest star and look left?” Trugard tugged at his beard as he stared toward the night sky, only to see thick trees looming above him. “Shit.” He sighed.
The panic rising in Trugard briefly blinded him from the danger lurking behind him. Impaled in the shards of ice, sliced up embered husks began to stir. The Runewalker’s eyes roared a violent red. Deep within their chests a flame breathed to life. Unmoving, the abominations began to concentrate as their eyes flickered rapidly until red stayed constant in their eyes.
Trugard wasn’t trained in combat, let alone facing Runewalkers. He never had to hone his perception, he never faced unyielding death. What he did know was drinking. Men like Trugard spent their nights demolishing their livers at the local brothel. With the exception of his weak Flicker, nothing was special about this drunken man. Come sunrise, if Trugard didn’t survive the night, the king’s guard would simply write it off as another drunk stumbling into death. No memorial or death ceremony would be had for the hooded man.
An insidious howl ripped up Trugard’s spine as he turned to face the source of the sound. Blinding his sight, a geyser of molten fire arched through the night air. The alcohol slowed Trugard’s reaction time, as he threw his body to the frozen ground, narrowly missing the inferno. Plucking his face from the snow, he locked eyes with the two newly freed Runewalkers. Trugard pulled back quickly, there were no eyes to stare at, simply fire.
The Runewalkers ashen flesh were now coursing with molten flame and hatred. The Rune that once bestowed great abilities in the former men, now consumed their every being, they coursed pure Flicker. Their heavy feet started toward Trugard, melting everything beneath them in a flash. Trugard was never one to understand much, but he knew those things across from him were not Runewalkers anymore. They had calmness to them, there was no blind lust for death anymore. Their faceless heads stared deep into Trugards soul, they were going to consume him and his Flicker. One of the walking fires launched into the air with speed faster than Trugard could register. One of the walking fires launched into the air with speed faster than Trugard could register. Shutting his eyes in fear, the drunk welcomed death.
“Now, now. There is no need to for any of this.” A voice crept over Trugard’s shoulder.
Opening his eyes, Trugard was confused by the site before him. Instead of facing his maker, he watched as the abomination swirled within a vortex of wind. The second monstrosity was trapped in its own vortex just feet behind its counterpart.
“Blights are such a nuisance. Don’t you agree?” Trugard’s savor spoke as he walked next to the closest vortex. Words wouldn’t come to Trugard’s mouth. “My apologies, I can see how this ordeal can be muting.” The stranger pulled out a stone as he approached the ‘blight’.
Rooted to the ground by shock, Trugard watched the man’s eyes flash purple as the vortex surrounding the Blight disappeared. Before the Blight could react, the strange man absorbed the Blight into the stone in his outstretched hand. The man turned to Trugard, a smirk laid on his face.
“Born under a black moon I see. Such a shame. Luckily for you, I have uses for weak Flickers.” The man’s eyes flashed black as he reached a rotting hand toward Trugard.
As the dead hand touched Trugard, the life began to drain from his eyes. His skin greyed and shriveled as years of his life were taken in an instant. As the life fell from his eyes, the man held up the same stone as before. The ancient carving on it glowed as it absorbed the little blue Flicker that called Trugard home. Content in his actions the man brushed himself of ash and dust, adjusted his clothes and walked to the last remaining Blight.
Chapter 2
“More heat boy! Feed the flames and keep it constant!” The soot covered blacksmith yelled over the roaring furnace.
The master and apprentice worked feverishly into the dead of night. Besides the occasional “more” and “steady”, that the blacksmith barked, the two worked in silence together to fold and work iron into deadly weapons. Strung up along the walls of the forge were a wide variety of metalworkings. From horseshoes to blades, shields and farming equipment, Taybus put his passion into everything he created. As the final blade was quenched, the steam spewing into the air signaled a day done for the master and apprentice.
“You have to focus on the flames more.” Taybus grunted to his apprentice.
“Yes Master.” The young man wiped his face of sweat, only to cover it in ash.
“You did good today Gryr. Keep it up and you’ll be crafting your first weapon soon enough.” Taybus spoke with his back turned to Gryr, his attention was elsewhere.
“Thank you-” Gryr was cut off by sharp knocking on the front door.
The tension instantly filled the smithy as knocks echoed from the door once more. Being far too late for visitors, Taybus knew only trouble lurked outside during these hours.
“Get behind the forge, make yourself disappear.” The words left Taybus with enough force to move Gryr.
The door separating the unknown creaked open.
“Taybus! I never see you anymore!” The cheery voice entered the blacksmith’s shop flanked by two mountains of muscle.
“It’s quite late for the Lord Belrot’s guard to be coming by.” Taybus forced a smile.
“I’m here on different business.”
Gryr squatted low behind rods of metal and wood perched on a cart behind the smelter. The two brutes behind the smiling man scanned the shop, missing the apprentice. For once, the ash and soot that Gryr hated helped him. Gryr couldn’t help but linger on the the two enforcer’s features. The larger of the two had a nose that must have been broken at least forty times. The other had an eye that nearly replaced his cheek bone, it hung so low.
“Enough with the pleasantries.” The man’s smile straightened with intent. “Where is your apprentice?”
“He’s home.”
“Tucked in, nice and warm? That’s good.” The man’s eyes flashed purple. “We don’t need any witnesses.”
He has a Flicker! Gryr fought everything to not leap out of his skin, he failed. The iron rod hanging behind him crashed to the ground, as his heart sank into his gut.
A devious smile stretched from the from ear to ear on the man with the Flicker. “Get him.” The man didn’t break eye contact with Taybus.
The brutes started toward Gryr, his heart didn’t beat, his face was pale. Too fast for anyone to register, Taybus’s hand gripped tight onto the goon with the deformed nose. All the men froze, forgetting about Gryr for a moment.
“Now Taybus, I came here expecting an easy conversation, but now you want to put your hands on one of Lord Belrot’s men.” The smile lessened, but still stayed plastered on the man’s face.
“Leave my apprentice alone. He has nothing to do with this, take your money and leave.” Taybus’s grip didn’t loosen.
“No witnesses remember Taybus, that’s what you were so adamant about. Yet here we have your street rat apprentice.” The man’s eyes flicked purple once more as air coursed around his fingers.
“Damnit boy…” Taybus grunted through his teeth, as his eyes locked on to his target.
The smile erased from the man’s face, the wind snapped away from his hands; his eyes widened in shock. “Black…”
An ear piercing scream erupted from the broken nosed man, cutting off all other’s thoughts. The squealing man sounded like a hundred pigs tortured at once as Taybus tightened his grip around the shrinking arm. The brutes arm greyed and withered at a rapid pace as its life was snapped out. Before Gryr could register what happened, the other goon cracked Taybus in the temple with a massive fist. Not allowing Taybus to regain focus, the mountain of a man bared down on him, furiously beating the blacksmith.
Gryr couldn’t register what happened; he didn’t understand what he saw. How could his master have brought a towering guard to the ground in seconds? Gryr couldn’t focus on what happened, he needed to see the now. He only knew one thing, questions later, and actions now. Gryr vaulted over the forge and grabbed one of the newly forged blades. Seeing that one of the guards was writhing in pain grasping a dead arm, he only had two enemies to deal with.
Engaging every muscle in his legs, Gryr lunged at the brute preoccupied with beating his master. As he wildly slashed at the man, a gust of air blasted Gryr in the ribs, throwing him over the shop counter. The goon didn’t blink as he proceeded to pummel Taybus.
Heaving for air, Gryr struggled to rise from the hardwood floor. As he stood on shaking legs, another blast of wind slammed into his gut, dropping him to his knees. The man with the Flicker loomed over Gryr, his smile back on his face.
“I didn’t think I was going to have so much fun tonight.” The man laughed as purple flickered in his eyes.
Just as the man was about to attack Gryr, he paused. Noticing there was no sound around him, the man tensed. The fist on body blows were no more, the shrieks from the man on the ground had ended. Uneasiness washed over the man’s body as his eyes darted around the shop.
“Touch me and your apprentice dies!” The man yelled into corners of the shop, his hands rose to meet Gryrs face. Air angrily began to swirl in his open palms.
The man spat blood on Gryr’s face as a blade tore through his chest. Behind him, Taybus leaned into the hilt, bruised and beaten.
“We are already dead.” Taybus forced the whisper.
Taybus pulled the blade from the dying man and let it fall to the floor. Gryr took in the sight before him. His master covered in blood and bruises, he could only image how many bones had been broken.
“How did you survive?” Gryr forced the words out as he stared at the lifeless body before him.
“There isn’t time for that, get up, we need to leave.” Taybus chewed his cheek to block the pain as he limped away from the scene. “I wasn’t lying when I told him we are dead, it’s just a matter of getting caught.
Chapter 3
Born from a mother that didn’t love him, Gryr was left for dead in the dense forest surrounding Kaliska. Luckily, a weathered blacksmith named Taybus happened by collecting wood for his shop. From the moment that Taybus held the infant, their paths were crossed. Sixteen years later, Gryr held Taybus as the two left their home for the last time.
Thoughts and Outline
I want this to be an epic fantasy world and story. Full of secrets, lore, swords and sorcery, big evil, triumphant good, twists and surprises.
Kris Writes Worlds 
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