12 January 2013

Merlin 3:9 - “The Swords of Samsara”

Merlin 3:9 - “The Swords of Samsara”

Merlin stands on the road, his arms widely open to the wind, his feet leave the ground and he swiftly drifts forward, his arms hanging aback in the gathered breeze as his heart leads the way.

Prudent are the weak and juries are the clouds, running over the land swift and to the forest, the sounds of wooden cups and laughter cope soldiers to reverie and guards to patrol in silent pacing duty. Duly of matters fair and threat at the silo nether spills the third guard who had climbed the spiral steps to see the noise having only found eternal silence. Roan’s eyes peek from the doorway shadow, his face pale of and under moonlight tone, from the doorway he exits with arrogance undeterred, waving the children from rustic doorway to darkened forest. Nikolas drags the guard to between a wagon and the wall and stands to see Roan carrying the small infirmed boy at a horse’s pace, his stride strong enough to trace the ground and far enough to seem floating over the prairie and between the trees. Nik promptly chases after him. Passing the first tree Roan grabs him by the rear of his collar halting him backwards to the ground and looks down on him. Nik back-springs to his feet appalled, he tries to slip a blade from concealment and point it to Roan’s throat in challenging dare, but Roan is aside him uncontrived, both notwithstanding their contempt for more inimical factions.

Roan: “Good, you’re not a turtle.”
Nik: “Odd, you’re a vampire.”
Roan: “Your plan is?”
Nik: “Kill the vizier, hostage the conservator.”
Roan: “Tsk, tsk, tsk, one death is a tragedy, one hundred is a statistic.”

Roan spins to his right, around a tree, into the field compelled by gaiting steps that flit, into the heady camp.

As Nik arrives to the tents his anxiety waxes slight alert, listening for sound of Roan distributing calamity, pondering in a moment the odds regarding treason and betrayal when that sound is naught. Acutely listening he reacts to the sound of a waking groan within the tent aside he stands, lifting the tarp he sneaks and kills the tenant, within these confines he takes the soldier’s cote foreswearing deceit and death. Disguised as one of the rogues he hears the first of Roan’s violent acclimation, whatsoever in distance sounds of a dying caterwaul and mustering of troops in many numbers, the sound of feet begin to hunt for spies and specters.

Kent: “What is the alarm?”
Underling: “There is a siege from the woods.”
Kent: “Go hence, fight you must!”

Kent from saddle spins his horse in a circle position, he locks his eyes to the tower and sees any thru window not, looking to the outer door of the watchtower he sees the guard’s feet motionlessly dead behind the pine-spoke wheel, he screams of his anger.

Kent: “…fie, I know it is you, of shadows, if you run, you will only die tired!”

Roan lifts his fangs from exsanguinating his prey, resting the dead body gently into the overlays of a tent passage, bothering beauty to take life for life, standing nonchalantly to hear Kent scream, walking toward that tirade verily to beguile him. Resentment is same of all immortals on tonight’s moonlit field of battle, different eyes with the same desire, to kill the murderous thief. Nik with these thoughts, brigand to any taunt, is adeptly in maneuvers of impetuous combat as he hears the taunt, insomuch one down and two to go so swiftly advantaged he loudly repartees him.

Nik: “How shall I kill the man that has earned it?”
Kent: “Entertaining…find me and you will find out! Find him and do not fail the master.”

Having finished shouting over tents, from the black tent two men without order heirs of elitism scour for a fight. Roan seeks Kent but finds Nik first, only to see him shred a man’s defenses and toss a second over himself with rolling backward and his boots to counteract an unpredicted lunge, this topples the tent by that Roan stands of the corner.

Roan: “I can’t help you in a clearing; I need these tents as cover.”
Nik: “Look behind you!”
Roan: “I hear him.”

Roan flies backwards over his feet, his right arm reaches out for his attacker’s throat, his body turns to affront the unfortunate assailant, and his eyes lock with his mortal victim just as he begins to push him backward from his feet. The sword intended against him in falling arm from overhead and grip lost, simply beginning unfinished his mouth opens and fangs displayed as he pounces unto prey into the nearest tent. Nik amazed suffers in his distraction, a dagger below shoulder thrown into his back, he screams disappointed and contempt, turning to see the hurler is not a pale soldier but a proper assassin dressed in black to match the hair.

Asa: “I’ve found him hither standing alone!”

Nik poignantly throws the dagger at the assassin and begins lifting his foot to pursuit, but when seeing the dagger widely miss target he stops confused and silent, they stand in a lane with Kent secretly watching, Nik looks at a sword in the grass bloody by its fallen owner, then to his opponent. Asa waves his hand openly gesturing for him to lift the sword and so he does, as the thickening blood runs down the lifted blade he holds his hand toward Nik, the blade pulls to Asa, primordial magnetism in his blood atavistically draws the metal.

Nik holds the sword until the tug is greater than his concern, when the sword leaps from him it falls near the feet of the assassin, at the request of his fingertips the sword handle rises to Asa’s palm, in grasp while keeping eyes locked with Nik.

Nik: “Well fie me running.”

Nik turns about his toes and runs only to find the other magnetic mage looking directly and fixedly at him, he rolls a dagger around his hand, flips it once in his fingers, and then throws it into the back of Nik’s calf as he tries to escape.

Riku: “Do not dwell on murder, brother. We will give you a soldier’s death.”

Nik turns to them, on each side, standing and pulling the dagger from his leg as he rises on toppled fabrics of a tent, he tosses the bloody weapon from his lesser hand to his favored, now again to deal with the second assassin summoning the knife.

Nik does not let the sharp blade depart, holds doth him with his second hand as it cuts into his palm, he leans back as Asa nods affirmatively to Riku, and his magic pulls the blade harder as Nik leaps from his planted heels to jaunt feet first into the wielder of bloody attraction. Nik on his chest swings a heavy punch, soon to follow he takes the dagger over his head to do much worse, but Asa puts a sword across Nik’s throat, holding him close to waist, Riku rises and draws a nearby sword to his hand with his metallian magic, his elbow bends and attempts to thrust it thru him.

Roan spearheads Riku into a tent before he can pierce Nik’s heart. To break from forced penance he stands lifting the assassin smaller than himself to remove his throat from cutlass, feet from the ground he leans forward locking Asa’s head over his shoulder and smashing to the ground. Riku frees himself from Roan to see the reckless abandon of fangs but in close combat dualistically pulls two daggers from close to his vest and repeatedly aerates the vampire until sentenced a reprieve. Nik has winded Asa with the fall but thrust is his stomach by sword so that the blade protrudes from his back, he lifts himself from the blade and aloof stumbles, assuredly temporary Nik dies in lunacy on yet another disheveled tent, his blood stains the muslin.

He blinks awake from a life flashed behind his eyes, another sword and slowly standing, pretending to be wounded for advantage, again the brothers assassin pull that blade from his hold, and a second sword thereabouts to both of them herein blades two by four.

Roan: “It’s the weapons, try the tent pole.”

Nik instinctually heeds grabbing the pikestaff as quickly as possible, taught to offer his life for liberty and determined to not, his attackers hesitate first to his eye, aversion the cue of confidence and resolution.

Nik: “Are you going to help me?”

Roan falls brightly moonlit wounded to his knees to hold his blood in his hands, a groan in the distance attracts him as he stands and stammers to drink from a living being, for the kind of Roan to take life first there must be. It is nearing dawn much brighter to the dead as the vampire profoundly imbued flees combat to the forest for shadows and a shallow grave.

Nik stands alone against Asa and Riku, waiting for a move of the other. A cry of crow begins their battle, never beholden to pride or other selfish dote, they are bringers of breath and givers of death entwined in acrimonious bloodshed betwixt vitriolic thought. Two against one comes to cessation within a dangerous moment, blocking a blade unhanded then of both direct, skilled is Nik but matched is he, Riku stabs at his eye but missing slices ear, Asa hacking blindly with fury takes his fingers as the steel slides along the staff.

After dropping the long stave, with one hand Nik swats a sword to his heart, he twists Asa’s hand behind tugging shoulder in pain. The good hand points the blade at Asa’s throat, but the assassin’s free arm holding a second sword swings the blade point upwardly at Nik’s face but revenges not. 

Asa drops his grip on the sword and pulls a dagger from belt, he stabs over his wretched shoulder, and Nik postpones a shave given and with his wrist jerks his foe’s torso by the throat, which the swinging hand joggles so that Asa stabs into his own shoulder.

Asa: “Ah, mountain-to-hell, you bloody cheater!”
Nik: “Traitor yes, but cheater no, I’ve simply been doing this longer than you both.”
Riku: “Think harder before you move, fighter.”
Nik: “Now I am his heart, the atonement is yours.”

Nik vigilantly whips his gaze side anent side to see if a stray weapon magically chases him or other suspect demons in the night.

Sino holds Roan against a tree by the throat, beneath anon dawn and moon, seemingly dead or soon to be as the craven warlock cuts thru flesh to steal his heart, he lets the body fall and it begins turning to ash in the emerging daylight. A horse runs devoted to speed along the forest edge, Sino stuffs the blackened wrest corazon into his vest and turns toward the embattled camp, near the last tree his eyes turn white in a final step, the sky to his silhouette is blue on black. Kent in assuming Nik will be victorious over a troop of men decides to leave on horseback, tho before gallivanting his eyes also turn to white, where the road to the battlefield adjoins Merlin stops his drifting flight as his eyes also lose all color and sight.

Sino: “What troubles of new graves have you opened, Kent?”
His hand holds a birch tree to remain stationary, his angered facial expression vacant and chaotic.

Kent: “My mercenaries are under attack, I thought I would come to you.”
His plentiful worry transfers to his steed, a great anxiety fills them both, frenetically turning and yearning for escape.

Sino: “What business had your league to vampiric trifle?”
Tho his eyes white, thusly his expression dark and dour an extreme welling of power.

Kent: “Our raids purveyed lucre by selling the young to the ancients, not for food, for their clan!”
Nik: “Whom the shit do you give your speech, Kent?”
Asa, Riku, and Nik watch with rest confused, many tents have fallen, as Kent’s nervous horse is lapse courier distant and to none.

Sino: “I chose your affliction, not for such unto me, your coffers fill as I allow, without the coffins overflow, and now your soul is mine.”
He stares blindly toward the altercation.

Merlin: “What is it that you, are, doing here, Sino?”
Merlin stands at the end of the avenue, the air still surrounding him, and the nearby wind.

Sino: “Merlin, hello, the times of leaders have changed, the voices have gone deaf so I will let the people unanimously speak.”
Merlin: “Will you kill them in your trust?”
Sino: “Of course, do not doubt. Judgment is mine and I will be appeased, au revoir, Merlin.”
Kent: “Please, we ask for nothing, master!”
Sino: “Then you shall receive it, in abundance.”

The warlock’s eyes turn from white by filling with black smoke, Merlin’s connection rescinds as the clouds fade from his vision, Kent’s eyes and mouth grotesquely fill with blood and soon he falls, Sino’s demonic grasp through the sultry air ends with murder. As he walks from accursed ground, the smallest of spiders ineffectively try to follow him. Troy, meek to combat and humble to protect, follows from on high the children travelling toward their destination, following them one of Kent’s soldiers has, but surprised, stopped, and summarily snared. Tied to the phoenix by his feet is lifted into the air smattering thru the spring branches and interrogated in duress overhead.

Nik still stands to Asa and Riku of impasse, dead Kent on the ground begins to most fervently supply the soil with moribund nutrition that causes the grass to grow greener and ever so slowly spread from the edges of the trafficked path to begin eventually consuming and covering the body.

Nik: “I have an idea, you can buy his freedom, do your magic and find me the strongest sword on this field, and I will release him.”

Riku begins a kata, his arms stretch to the sides as his stance widens, the movement and fear of dark power startles Nik to holding dagger stricter to Asa’s throat, with his own bloody hand and thumb as he wrings the assassins wrist in bloody grasp with dagger still in shoulder the wound tears with small effort. Riku discontinues his stoical focus and stands at ease but while holding a hand toward the center of the scene, eyes squint as Asa kneeling joins in similar action with a hand outstretched raising a longsword handle first, ferried inexplicably by magic to them. Their reach follows as it joins them and betwixt drops, a strip of fabric tied to the hilt.

Nik removes the dagger from Asa’s throat, lets his damaged hand from the now wretched arm, and punches him in the back of the head with the palm of his bloody hand. Riku watches his brother forcedly lean forward from the push and Nik walk vigilant and cautious around him. His steps carry him with constant stare at Riku, he lifts the broadsword from the soil his thumb upward the grasp, his other hand bloodily bracing the blade while turning to Riku again, then his attention on the road to Ana, he smiles in departure as Merlin approaches.

Nik: “Hail to thee, elder!”
Merlin: “Boy, apparently you don’t have a way with words.”
Riku: “Betoken to mercy, ought for naught, we cannot let you and your witness live.”
Asa: “The infamy of this battle is ours.”

The gathering of bestrewn tents are risen from the wagon path that leads to the countryside castle, forcing Merlin to stretch his paces walking up a small hill, his fingers begin to crack with electricity by the sound of sticks breaking beneath his feet that presently are naught, thusly as Nik turns to address the Samsaran warriors.

Nik: “Why; because your honor plays with excrement or it is your only solution?”

As they see Merlin’s face rise from the field to them a face of eyes glowing white, skin darkened seemingly by many days’ sun, and markings of intricate tattoos radiant egressing from his shortened sleeves in awe of the aura his hands wield, the markings beneath flesh effulgent glow. Happenstance to leave them wonder if his cold, level gaze betokens indifference or anger, Riku grabs his brother beneath arm and leads them to their escape immediate, Merlin lifts his fingers to them as Nik contently puts a hand to his chest to issue halt and the luminary radiance fades from him.