Kin-Slayer

[AeonicBloodline]

Kin-Slayer

Prologue: Visions of the Past

‘I have watch Albion’s ‘Saviour’ all his life.
‘Eialai is the name that was given to him at birth, a name, which in the tongue of the Old Kingdom, means ‘Aspiring Power’. The name has power, and meaning, and he was always told it could be one that led to greatness, good or ill. This name his mother and father, and his sister called him. He carried it all throughout his early life. But unknown to him, darkness followed his family, a darkness that would consume him and all he loved.
‘A raid tore his life apart, led by a Masked Demon and his bandits. They slaughtered and burned everything he knew, fires burned that scarred him and reduced his life to ash. In this moment, a seed of darkness was planted in him, a seed that would sprout into the most terrifying creature the land ever saw.
‘A traitor saved him, as it were, thought this was unknown at the time, a traitor he would later kill. The traitor trained him, brought him up, raised him and taught him secrets that the Guild would not. If the Guildmaster had learned of these things, the boy may not have had a life at the Guild any longer. But it truly didn’t matter.
‘He left the Guild and took names, different ones in different places. He studied and mastered the runes, tutored under dark users of the Will, and in time learned the rituals of the dead. In the forests of Witchwood, he was given the title of the Man of the Shadows, and his true name was forgotten.
‘His true name is known only to him and those he trust, which are few and dwindling.
‘Two titles came later, ones that showed the truth of his personality. One was Saviour, a title not strongly or widely used. The other is Kin-Slayer, one that is whispered and known everywhere.
‘The Sword that now burns against his back is the cause of this name. It is a prize and a burden, a medal and a mark. He faced the Jack of Blades, the Masked Demon who took his life, defeated him, and claimed the Sword. At the time, it was all that mattered, all that ever mattered. At the time, it was all he had. It was seductive, the lure of the Sword, bringing a fierce desire with him to possess it no matter what the consequence. He killed his sister, the Blind Seeress, to achieve his desire.
‘‘Blood begets blood, little brother,’ she had said. ‘The Sword was forged of Archon’s bloodline; to claim it you must first claim my life…’
‘He heard nothing else, the Sword’s lure and power burning through him. The Sword thirsted, as it thirsted long ago, and he fulfilled its hunger. Had she eyes, the look in them would have been horror, I think. He never remembered striking her till later, when the nightmares came, never remembered the connection of the Sword to her jugular, the sickening crunch and snap, her blood pouring from her severed arteries and pooling at his feet. The Sword drank its fill and proclaimed him master.
‘He now had his Power; his rightful claim to Archon’s cold throne, he could have brought the world to its knees. I do not know what happened, but instead he left, chased and haunted by the haze and nightmares of guilt and grief, driven by the thirst of the Sword. Kin-Slayer, he was called, persecuted and shunned, his sin never to be forgotten.
‘I watched Teresa’s life too, as I have watched all of Archon’s heirs, and know she touched many people during her travels. Everyone soon learned of her murderer, and the Kin-Slayer became hunted, and the Sword cut them all down, its thirst unquenchable.
‘The Sword claimed hundreds upon hundreds of lives, and soon the roles of master and tool were reversed. Eialai became the Sword’s puppet, broken on its will. A year passed, and soon the echoes of a scourge from the North called him back. The broken boy, now a broken man, yearned for his homeland, for his family. On a stormy night, he returned to the shores of Albion, broken and alone, and death was left in his wake.
‘He did not return to the Guild, instead disappearing into the shadows, as he was known to do. Hope for the Saviour of Albion to return soon dwindled and fell into darkness and despair. The scourge of the North brought ruin to Albion, the Heroes of the Guild driven back to the foundations of the Guild itself. Hope was lost, until he returned, out of the shadows of Darkwood he came, driving the hordes back. The Sword held no sway over his mind or heart any longer, clarity and will restored.
‘His quest renewed, he collected the Fire Heart and took the dead ship to the Wastes from which the scourge had come. He connected the Northern provinces with the mainland again, opening the culture secluded there. The Wastes held many secrets for him to discover, the Shrine of the Archon, the Necropolis, but far more importantly, the Oracle.
‘Collecting the runes from the lost ones of the dead city, he learned many things from the speaking stone. Among many, he learned of the return of the Masked Demon. Gathering the necessary souls, he opened the Bronze Gate and battled the Jack of Blades for the last time. He destroyed the mask that anchored Jack to this world, and returned to Albion. For a time, he was celebrated as a Hero again, the Saviour of Albion remembered for the time. But the people feared him still, hated him. The stain of his sister’s blood could not be washed away.
‘It has hardened his heart, this life. He has no one to love, or anyone to love him His only refuge…is himself. There is a darkness growing in Albion, the shadows stirring once again, and I see him at the center of it all. Is he our Saviour, or our doom? We shall have to see…’

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Chapter I: Interpreting the Dream....

Agatha, the Witch of Bowerstone Quay, listened to the savage blows of the Fighters Guild members and their nightly fun. Such savage entertainment proved how barbaric and limited this little town was, and why she hated it. If she really wanted too, she would have moved, but there was such easy money to be made here, preying off the superstitious and weak.
A chill wind blew through the quay from the lake, and she clutched her black shawl tighter around her, inching closer to the fire. Normally, she would have been in her wagon, warm and snug on her pallet and letting the dark currents of Will that flowed through this town lull her to sleep, but tonight that was not the case.
As adept she was in the ways of the Will, her skills were lacking in matters for Foresight. She had to use the archaic ways of foreseeing the future, through the use of portents and omens. But this morning a sign had come to her by the way of tealeaves, and careful study of them had revealed tonight was to be a most eventful one.
He was coming.
The Kin-Slayer.
He would come bearing questions, though what they were, the tealeaves had not revealed.
A shiver ran through her as she thought of him, and his power. She was powerful, it was how she survived in this town of bigots and fools, but he…he was a savage beast, one with no master.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and warning of the storm to come. But Agatha was aware of an even greater storm on the horizon, a storm that threatened to tear Albion apart. The tealeaves had provided her little on that matter, and no matter how many cups she had downed, they left her with nothing but questions and a full bladder.
Clutching her cooling cup of tea between two withered hands, she looked up and saw him standing at the entrance to the quay. The Kin-Slayer was a terrifying and handsome man, dressed in obsidian plate armour, a black cloak billowing out behind him in the now churning wind. His features were sharp and handsome; dark raven hair cut close to the scalp, the most vibrant pair of violet eyes ever seen. His skin was pale and fair, hairless and unflawed except for the hint of a horrible scar that began beneath the right side of his jaw-line. To Agatha, it looked like a fire burn, but she never asked him.
At his back burned the hated blade that awarded him with the title of Kin-Slayer, the Sword of Aeons; Archon’s Bane. She had always wondered the power of that Sword, how great it’s lure to make one kill their own blood. Or perhaps it was not the Sword, but the one who wielded it.
He stood at the entrance to the quay for a moment, then stalked his way toward her, his gait one like the fabled lion’s would have been. She looked back down at her cup and swirled it a bit, unable and unwilling to meet his eyes that burned so coldly.
"So you have come at last," she said, her voice sounding so very old.
The Kin-Slayer nodded. "You knew I was coming. You know what I want."
His voice was so hard and emotionless, cold and uncaring. It made her shiver. But as much as she feared him, he would not command her. She had lived under the thrall of others for too long, those who confined her and limited her, like her teacher had once done. She made an oath long ago no other would do that to her again, even if it meant her death, which was more than a possibility when dealing with Albion’s ‘Saviour’.
"Perhaps I do," she said carefully, "But a question must be asked, and my willingness to answer is not by command. Proper remunerations will be needed."
A scowl crossed his face. "Have you fallen so low?"
Agatha laughed. "Please, Hero, "she said mockingly, her eyes wrinkling in amusement. "You are in no position to judge me. You, who murdered your kin for a talisman of a dead age, and from what I’ve heard, the Guild has turned its back on you, closed the very doors that took you in."
Agatha saw something flicker across his face—hurt perhaps?—then anger. He reached beneath the blackness of his cloak and produced a bag of gold. Tossing it at her feet, she reached down and opened it up, her eyes greedily savoring the shiny pieces. With this she could fix up her wagon, get new materials for clothing and herbs for apothecary, she could-
"Is that sufficient?"
She looked up, a curt smile on her face. "Oh, yes. Your patronage is much appreciated, Kin-Slayer."
She pulled the bag beside her, and took a sip of her tea. She gestured for him to sit on a log by the fire. He did, crossing his ankles and placing his hands on his knees.
"What would you like to know of?"
He was silent for a moment, lightning flickered in the distance and a rolling thunder answered it. The physical storm was approaching fast, but the storm of the future was stirring in the man before her. She watched him stare deep into the fire, and then speak slowly.
"I had a dream. I think it means something."
"More nightmares of your sister’s slaughter? I can tell you what that means, easily. Or perhaps have you come for more dream suppressants?"
The Kin-Slayer looked at her sharply. "No, not those. This dream was different."
Agatha swirled her tea. "A true vision, then? An omen of something to come? How unlikely."
But she knew it wasn’t. Her own dreams had been troubled of late, and she was more than curious to she what this man’s dreams foretold.
"If you’re not going to help me, return my gold-"
"Calm yourself," she said, a hand up to silence him. "I will listen and interpret to the best of my abilities. Tell me your dream."
The Kin-Slayer sighed, and closed his eyes. "I was standing in the middle of a plain on the rise of a hill, the sun shining down on me and wind gently blowing. I felt…content, like I never have before. Then the sky darkened, becoming covered with heavy black clouds, and the wind increased. It began tearing chunks of land up into the sky; the air became thick with debris, making it hard to see.
"I looked to the southeast for some reason, where the darkness was the greatest, and I saw great winged creatures take flight, and a giant serpent rise into the sky. It had two heads, one giant one on one end of its body and a small one at the other end. It had one eye situated in the center of each head, a massive red one that burned like fire. Its body was like coal, completely black and its scales seemed to suck in all light, flame and smoke seemed to issue from it too. It writhed and slithered through the sky toward me, its mouths snapping insanely.
‘I turned to the northwest and saw a great light, from which came a second serpent, this one like the first but it was golden, and its eyes were like blue lightning. Its body was shrouded too like the black one, but in lightning and clouds. It moved suddenly towards me, away from the great light and met the dark serpent, and they began to battle above me. I watched them wrap about each other, biting and thrashing, neither seeming get the upper hand. Finally one serpent consumed the head on the other, while the other did the same. They began to swallow each other, and their bodies formed a great ring of scales, flame and lightning.
‘I felt such despair and hope, but for which one I don’t know, but then depression hit me. I…," he faltered here, and was silent for a moment before continuing. "I cried. I don’t know why, but I was sobbing uncontrollably. I felt so-so angry, humiliated, disgusted. Then two strong arms wrapped around my chest, and I was pulled back into a firm embrace and then I heard a man’s voice say to me, "Don’t worry. Don’t cry. I’m here, hold on to me.
It rained then, blood from the sky, blood from the serpents. From between the gaps of the storm clouds, I saw the stars fall from the sky, fiery burning comets that broke the land. Throughout the whole thing the man held me, telling me everything would be fine."
He trailed off and was silent, but Agatha leaned forward. "Is that all? If there is anything else you must tell me."
He shook his head. "No, that’s it. What does it mean?"
Agatha finished her tea before answering. The Kin-Slayer was silent; he knew she was thinking on it. What he didn’t now was that she had shared a similar dream, the dream involving two great serpents and an epic battle. She had also been aware of a shrouded figure between the two beasts, now she knew it was the slayer. But the arrival of a second figure, one even hidden from the Heir himself…

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

"The two serpents," she began, speaking slowly and clearly, "are representations of Avo and Skorm, and the directions are the locations of their Temples. Avo resides in the northwest, in Witchwood, while Skorm is situated in the southeast, in the heart of Darkwood."
She was silent, wondering how much to reveal to him. She could tell him everything now, or at least as much as she was aware, but that was not her place. But she could send him to someone who could. She set the teacup down beside her and clasped her hands in her lap.
"For many months now, ever since you last vanquished Jack of Blades and opened the Northern Wastes to the mainland of Albion, many Seers and Will-users have been receiving terrible dreams much like the one you just told me, myself included. The great serpents, the battle, the consuming of both leviathans, all are the same. However, at the center of it all has been a shrouded man who exudes a sense of destiny and fate.
‘The battle in the dream reveals that Avo and Skorm are too equally matched, and this is represented by the Ouroburos, the consuming serpents. They will devour each other until both are destroyed, and all of Albion with them. You however, are the catalyst, the force that could turn the battle toward the victory of Avo, or of Skorm. What happens when one wins is unknown to me, my skills of Foresight are not that advanced, but dream interpretation is a specialty of mine.
"Your inaction in the dream, in all of our dreams, tells me you as of yet still standing on the cusp of deciding who to aid, which is dangerous to us all. Do nothing, an Albion falls. The falling stars in your dreams are the Heroes of the Guild, Albion’s defenders. By standing still and doing nothing, you are damning them all to death."
"What of the winged creatures that flew before Skorm rose from the darkness? I forgot to mention the same thing happened with Avo."
Agatha was quiet. She couldn’t reveal that too him yet, she had an inkling of what they were, but she was unsure.
"I do not know," she lied. Luckily for her, he seemed to buy it.
"The…man behind me?" He seemed to get uncomfortable at this point, which made Agatha relax. "The one who held me, who told me everything would be fine? What is he?"
Agatha thought on this. "He, I believe, is two things. One is that he is your anchor to reason, and hope. He is your shield that will protect you from despair and loss. Without him, you are lost."
"The other? What is it?"
"He could also be your doom and Albion’s as well. His embrace is one of protection, but it is also an embrace that keeps you from acting for or against Avo and Skorm. It puts you in a state of idleness and uncertainty, which as I have already said will destroy us. I do not know if he will be holding you back, or if you will be the one holding back because of him. As of now I cannot say. He is your greatest ally and worst enemy. You must be careful."
The Kin-Slayer leaned forward, an eager and urging gesture. "Do you know who he is?"
Agatha shook her head. "No, I do not. But you might, though your mind may be unaware."
Agatha felt a few raindrops fall on her hand, and the flash of lightning and the thunder that followed was a warning to all outside to seek shelter.
"But I didn’t see his face. How will I know him?"
Agatha stood, gathering her cup and the bag of gold. "He is your Heart’s Wish, dear boy. Everything you have ever desired is embodied in him. Your heart will recognize him instantly, but your mind may have ignored the heart’s warning. It is not uncommon for a Heart’s Wish to hide right beneath your nose. As I said, you may know him, or you may as of yet not have ever met him, I do not know, he is not my Wish."
The Kin-Slayer stood, stretching his legs. "Can you help me find him?"
Agatha placed her items in the wagon, and turned to him. "No. Just as I cannot answer the other questions you have brewing concerning this dream. But I can send you to someone who can."
Her words were dark and held a deep meaning, one that held weight in the fabric of time. If he followed her instructions…
"Who?"
"You already know her. The Red Widow Seeress."
Cold fury entered his eyes, so suddenly that the witch cowered a bit.
"I will not return to her," he whispered fiercely, venom dripping from his words. "I will never return to her!"
Agatha gathered her courage and spoke strongly. "Then you will never find answers to your questions! You will never know the entire truth of your dream, and you will remain in this uncertainty and all of Albion will die!"
He stood there, still as stone, his jaw set in anger and eyes closed. Agatha cocked her head to one side and smiled inwardly. She knew how to turn this around. She was a witch, and a user of the dark Will, manipulation was a tool just like any other to her. She leaned in, her voice low and sly.
"And you will never find your Heart’s Wish. I saw the joy when you spoke of him, even though you do not know him. Your hope for that happiness will die and him along with it, because of your unwillingness to seek the one who can help you."
His eyes snapped open. "She can never help anyone! Her way of helping is destruction of your very being. She is-"
"The only thing you have. She is a wise woman, one who is learned in the ways of the Old Kingdom, and her gift of Foresight is greater than any I have ever known. She is a cruel mistress, but cruelty has long been your tool. Perhaps you could bend her to your will, I do not presume to know the extent of her Will. Seek her out, Hero. Save Albion once again."
He turned from her and stared into the dying fire. "And still be hated. Still be forced to bear the stain of kin-blood."
The few drops of rain now turned into a light drizzle, and Agatha turned and stepped inside her wagon under the partition to shield herself from the rain. She watched him stand there, staring at the now drenched fire, wondering what he would decide. The dark Will energies of the quay shimmered in excitement of this moment, knowing that everything could change here and now. Finally, he turned and looked at her, rain trailing down his face in tiny rivers.
"Where is she?"
Inwardly, Agatha gave a triumphant laugh. The rains became a downpour, the sound of it hitting the tin roof of her wagon thunderous. She had to yell what she said.
"Go to Knothole Glade. Seek out the Druid Drystaen. He is a pupil of mine who studied under her for some time. He may know of her location. May the gods Above and Below bless your journey."
She saw him nod his thanks and turn, walking through the thick rain and out of the quay. She stepped inside her wagon and closed the wood door, latching it close and activating the warding rune. It was quieter in here because of the sound-dampening charm placed on the roof and walls. Flicking her wrist at a lantern on the stool by her pallet, her Will ignited the wick and brought a dim light to her small home. She settled on the second stool by a chest she used as a table, and leaned back against the wall.
"Califax?
"Yes, madam?"
"Did you hear?"
"Indeed."
Agatha looked at the wall behind her pallet as her familiar phased through the wall. Califax, like all familiars, was an ethereal creature pulled from the netherworld to aid Agatha. He was shape shifter that took many forms, but his current one was of a lizard-like feline. The body of a cat but was covered in scales and had a lizard-like tail, even his tongue was one like a reptile. He radiated a blue light and smoke-like vapor, and was transparent, though if he focused his Will he could take a corporeal form.
"What do you think?"
Her familiar sat back on his haunches and regarded her with his large emerald eyes.
"Our suspicions are confirmed. He is the catalyst."
Agatha waved her hand and looked at the pouring rain outside her window. "It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Archon’s Heir was somehow involved. But this new turn in the dream-vision is disturbing."
"No other Seer or Will-user has this other man, this Heart Wish. All I have conversed with describe the dream as it has always been. Perhaps it is something only revealed to the catalyst? Even your sister seems to think this was possible."
"Rose, bah."
Califax dropped the unpleasant mention of her sister. After a silent moment from his mistree, he cocked his head to the side. "What are you thinking?"
She sighed and frowned. "In the dreams, the winged creatures take flight before Skorm and Avo rise into battle."
Califax nodded. "Yes, and?"
"If they are the chthonic dei, why do they leave before hand? They are the Wells boundaries, if they leave the energies spill outward and break the seal, leaving utter chaos."
"That would certainly aid Skorm. Perhaps an investigation of your Well is needed? To discern if the dei is awakening?"
Agatha rapped her knuckles on the chest. "Tomorrow we will see. If the rain continues like this we will never be able to make it to Darkwood in one piece and if we are to traverse that place we must be on our guard. If it is still in this condition, we wait."
Califax nodded. "Agreed."
The familiar-beast walked over to its mistress, sitting beside her and gazing out the window. "Avo cries greatly this night for his children."
Agatha grunted. "All I know is that this night is far from over."

 

[droded]

Re: Kin-Slayer

+Rep is all I can say...

 

[droded]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Wow I can't believe no one else commented, that is an obscene amount of effort aeonicbloodline put in.

 

[Angel]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Sorry got caught up doing Oblivion related stuff...some reppage heading your way for what is really a very very good piece of writing.

Please do add to it as it is impressive and you've clearly put a lot into it

 

[Dark Drakan]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Quite the story you have going there, nice descriptive work and also i can tell you are taking your work seriously +rep

 

[Steve]

Re: Kin-Slayer

It's very rare I get to use this smilie: :thumbsup:

+rep

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Thanks, everyone. I am currently editing the next bit, so it's going to be a bit before I get the next chapter up, but it IS coming.

 

[Vegeta]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Vey good.

 

[xbox360luva]

Re: Kin-Slayer

lol, fresh

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Lower Bowerstone was the dregs. It was here that the people too poor to even live in the slums of Bowerstone South congregated, building tiny huts and shelter from the discarded refuse of the upper city. It was simply a collection of dilapidated buildings and alleys; the buildings home to mostly drug addicts and the gangs that controlled the area, while the alleys were for the families and other poor folk unable to find jobs or decent pay in a city that looked down upon the weak.
In the time that Lady Elvira Grey had become mayor, she quickly cutoff all patrols and concern for Lower Bowerstone, essentially declaring it no-man’s land. The money that would have gone to the upkeep of that area went into the pocket of the mayor herself. The area fell quickly to the gangs, all vying for power and territory, killing anyone and destroying anything that got in their way. After the mayor’s self-imposed exile, however, the new mayor began an attempt to take back Lower Bowerstone. The patrols that had once been nonexistent were suddenly everywhere, attempting to bring law and peace back. However, the gangs did not make it easy. The most powerful of them was the Fore-Scythe Gang and their leader, Fortiun, stated he would not give up his territory. He made this known quite clear with the seventy-five dead patrol guards piled on the doorstep of the mayor’s residence.
The rain came down in torrents, soaking the Kin-Slayer to the bone as he weaved his way through the black alleys, his footsteps against the cobblestone streets bouncing around the looming walls. Pulling up the hood of his cloak didn’t help to alleviate the rain that ran into his eyes at all; it simply caused his vision to be obscured by the water-soaked brim.
Tonight had shaken him, the witch and her words had gotten to him to in ways he thought impossible. Stupidly, he had let down his defenses, and shown a part of himself to her he never showed anyone. But he had to have answers. The dreams came more and more often; sometimes overlapping others, at other times becoming a muddled madness that tore him from sleep with a strangled cry.
The fact that they didn’t take away the nightmares of Teresa’s death didn’t help.
He closed his eyes and walked the path by memory, knowing what to avoid and go around, like the plywood hut that housed a family of five, all huddled together under a scrappy blanket; or the group of old drunkards splayed up and down one alley route, bottles clutched in claw-like hands like life preserver. His head hurt, he hadn’t slept in two days and his body was beginning to show signs of it. Stopping at the corner, he reached into an inner pocket in his cloak and produced a water proof bag. Reaching inside he pulled out a blue tinted mushroom and downed it in one gulp.
The effect was instant; he leaned against the wall and pressed his head against the cool wet brick. His temperature rose suddenly, his heart rate increased so fast it felt lick a rock trying to slam its way out of his chest. Nausea hit him in a wave that nearly made him double over, cramping his stomach in twisting pain. He let out an anguished moan, sliding down the wall.
The effects were the same each time, but each time he wondered if the witch had finally decided to kill him, tainting the mushroom with some obscure and quick reacting toxin. But she would, he knew, especially not now. His temperature dropped suddenly, the cramps and nausea disappeared and his heart rate steadied, and though he felt like utter ****, the mushroom had done its job. He felt the rush of adrenaline and the haze of sleep disappear, and within seconds he was up and continuing his trek through the alleys. As he walked, he thought about his meeting with Agatha.
The witch had told him to seek out Drystaen of Knothole Glade. He smiled grimly. He knew Drystaen. He knew the Druid quite well. The young man had tended his wounds and cared for him after the battle with the White Balverine, and later the two had developed a friendly relationship. Well, until the Kin-Slayer disappeared after the battle with Jack, driven away and haunted by his choices; until he had failed to save the Glade from the Summoners’ attacks. Things had happened during that time that the Kin-Slayer was just now learning, things that most of Albion held him responsible for.
And the Seeress…so, she was in Witchwood. She had been right under his nose and he didn’t even know. What was worse that Drystaen had known about it, and said nothing.
The effects of the mushroom, while helping him stay awake, was making it hard to focus. His mind wandered to the dream and Agatha’s interpretation. The serpents were Avo and Skorm.
He didn’t understand.
The Oracle of Snowspire had said Avo and Skorm were not gods, not even real. How could they be affecting the fate of Albion? Maybe, it wasn’t the actual entities, maybe the serpents represented not the actual ‘gods’ but their worshippers. Perhaps the Temples were about to have a second war, one that would rival the first that happened so long ago?
He shook his head. He didn’t know. Dream interpretation was something he left to those qualified, which is why he had gone to the witch in the first place. Now he had to find the Seeress. His stomach gave a turn of anxiety, and he quickly thought of something else.
Then there was this figure in his dream, this man. The witch had called him the Kin-Slayer’s Heart Wish. Everything he desired completely within one person, his every wish fulfilled. He frowned. He had already had that. He had, at one time, that man, that love that completed him, his Heart Wish. But like everything in his life, he had been taken away. By the Kin-Slayer’s stupid choices, by his weakness…by an illness that crippled and wasted the man he loved away to nothing and he was forced to watch, knowing he could do nothing. Until, finally, he had chosen his death at the hands of a beast than at that of an unseen illness.
His chest gave an anguished pang, and he pushed that memory away into the obscure darkness. His choices brought him nothing but despair, and this Heart Wish proved it. The dream mocked him with the image of this man. Now, to make it worse, his memory of his once-love was going to hold him back, causing him to choose between inaction and Albion’s salvation. A wry thought crossed his mind.
Did Albion truly deserve to be saved?
The land and its people had turned from him and persecuted him.
Why did he want to save a land that despised him? Nothing he did was ever going to atone for what he did, why try anymore? Let Albion die, and everyone along with it.
He rounded a corner and saw the first beginnings of Bowerstone South when the Sword of Aeons flared, and intense heat burning at his back.
<I sense pain> The Sword whispered.
The Kin-Slayer stopped. The Sword rarely spoke to him anymore, but when it did it was never for any light matter. Slowly, he started walking down the alley, and he heard the sounds of muffled cries. The Sword burned hotter and a soft red glow emitting.
<Great pain. Shame, humiliation…blood>
This last statement excited the Sword, and the Kin-Slayer felt the hunger in the Sword rise. He saw a narrow offshoot of the alley up ahead, on so hidden he never would have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking.
<Someone is in need…help, help, he screams, though silently, it’s so loud. Can’t you hear it?>
He could. Whatever was happening in that that alley had the dark Will that permeated the area in frenzy. It was feeding from the evil of that act, and it made a sickening, clammy feel fill the area. The Sword urged him to intervene, though it cared nothing for the person in harm. It just wanted blood, something it had been denied for so long.
He turned into the dark offshoot and peered into the darkness. The silent screams were the loudest here, but what he truly heard was the groans of pain and sadistic chuckling, along with sickening wet thuds. The Sword urged him forward, under the pretense of wanting to help but its hunger gave its true purpose away.
His eyes adjusted and he saw three men, two men on either side of one and holding down the arms of some struggling form while another threw fist after fist. The Kin-Slayer stood there for a moment, mesmerized by the blows and the currents of Will, until the form rose and pulled a wickedly curved knife from his belt.
The Sword was in his hand before he knew it, up and around, decapitating the man on the right. The other two, oblivious to the Kin-Slayer’s sudden appearance, continued for another second before looking up to see the headless body of their companion burst into flame by a blast of Will fire. They fell back, one scrambling to pick up his fallen dagger the other threw a knife produced from his belt.
The Kin-Slayer caught the dagger and returned it to its owner, who had turned to retreat. The dagger buried in his thigh, causing him to stumble with a cry. The Sword gave a giddy laugh that vibrated throughout the Kin-Slayer’s body as he stalked up to the man and buried the blade between his eyes, silencing his cry for mercy before it even left his lips. A black form rushed past him, the other man.
He pulled out his bow and notched an arrow, aiming without real care of accuracy and released. He had meant for a head-shot, but the arrow buried itself in the meat of his shoulder. He heard a pained groan from the man, but it failed to bring him down. He rounded the corner and was gone. The Kin-Slayer was about to pursue when he heard the stifled sobs and low groans of pain behind him.
He turned, finding the victimized person curled in a little ball, eyes buried in palms. He walked slowly towards. His stomach gave a turn. He was just a boy, no more than fifteen or sixteen. He squatted down on his heels and watched as the boy pulled into a tighter ball and bury his face in his knees, shaking uncontrollably.
<Kill him,> the Sword whispered. <End his pain. He’ll never be the same, haunted forever by this night, never able to trust again. You would be doing him a favour.>
He studied the boy for a moment more, the Sword’s words confusing him. What did it mean, to kill him. He was beaten badly, but why kill him? He was about to leave when realization struck him like a wall.
"I know him," he said.
He reached down picked him up out of the puddle of rainwater and blood, struggling only briefly as the boy fought, though weakly. He looked at the boy, a rare moment of tenderness passing through him as he ran a hand through the boy’s brown-blond hair.
"James," he whispered. "That’s your name, isn’t it? You’re the old woman’s grandson, at Rose Cottage."
The boy, James, responded to his own name. Burying his face in the black armour, he sobbed uncontrollably. A single word passed his lips among all the tears: "Help."
<Kill him. Snap his neck, run him through, something. Perform this act of mercy for him. End his suffering…>
"Be silent."
The Sword obeyed its master, not saying anything else, though its ire was great. He brushed the boy’s forehead briefly again and then rose, cradling him in a protective embrace. The rain had already washed much of the blood away, but he knew that James was still bleeding, and he felt the shudder of pain in him as he walked out of the alley.
"I’m going to get you help."
Holding him in one arm, he pulled his Guild Seal out and stared at it. He had deactivated a long time ago so the Guild couldn’t find him, couldn’t track his movements. It had cost him the ability to teleport, but he really hadn’t needed it…until now. James might die if he didn’t get him to someone who could help.
He opened his Will to the Seal, and the little piece of metal reacted and flared to life, glowing gold. He opened himself to the Will channels that connected all Cullis Gate’s together, and them to the Seals. Focusing on one gate, he pushed him and James into the current of the channels.

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

The storm was even more ferocious in Knothole Glade. Lightning split the sky and rain turned the ground into a sea of mud. The wind nearly shoved the Kin-Slayer back onto the Cullis Gate when he tried to step off, but he dug his feet into the mud and made his way forward. He reached the closed gate and pounded on it, not ceasing until the window on the door opened a guard poked his head in view.
"Who’s there? State ‘or name."
He moved in view, his eyes squinted in the lamplight the guard held.
"Open the door, Francis."
"Can’t do that, Hero," he said, spitting off to the side, which the wind whipped back into his face. "Ugh. Chief’s orders. Weird happens about. You should’ve gotten here before nightfall. Sorry."
He gritted his teeth. "Francis, look at this boy!"
He held James in the light, satisfied when he saw the colour drain out of the guard’s face. "If I don’t get him to Gwynn then he is going to die. If he dies, Francis, I’m holding you responsible. Now open the gate before I burn it down."
Francis nodded. "Open the gate, Rolf! NOW!"
The turning of gears and straining of ropes was heard, and the great wood gates opened. He wasted no time in entering or thanking Francis, running up the hill against the runoff of rainwater. He fell only once, turning quickly onto his side so not to hurt James, and was up in seconds. He climbed the hill in five steps, already calling for the Chief as he reached the darkened hut. A well placed kick sent the door inward, and he rushed inside.
"Gwynn! Dammit, where are you?"
Sounds were heard from upstairs as a slender woman with blue whorl tattoos hurried down the stairs, blade in hand. The Chief lumbered behind her, a large club in his meaty fist and lamp in the other. Gwynn stared at him for a moment, then at the boy in his arms. She dropped the blade pulled her red hair back, running toward him. She took James from him and headed for the stairs, where her young son Athan stood watching in confusion.
"Run and get Drystaen. Hurry!"
The boy nodded and jumped the stairs, pass the Kin-Slayer and out the door and into the rain. The Chief returned upstairs, opening a door that Gwynn and James entered. The Kin-Slayer hurried after them, entering the small sterile room where Gwynn did her healing, situating himself by the door waiting at the door. Gwynn laid him on the bed and turn to the table where various herbs and a mortar and pedestal sat. She began mixing.
"What happened? Or have I already guessed?"
He said nothing, and he heard her curse in her own language. She mixed the powder she made with water and lifted James head, making him drink it. He didn’t put up a fight at all, which he could tell worried Gwynn. She looked at him, her green eyes piercing.
"Did you not try any Will healing?"
He shook his head. "My skills aren’t any good. I know enough to heal small wounds until I can reach a healer, but nothing I know could heal that. Besides," he added, "you of all people know that Will healing can cause more harm than anything."
He saw her clench her jaw and a haunted look pass her eyes, and then she turned back to James. Whatever she had given him had knocked him out completely. She began to undress him. The Kin-Slayer turned and left, leaving Gwynn to her work.
Back down stairs, the Chief waited for him, seated next to a roaring fire he started. He offered the Kin-Slayer some of the brown sludge he was drinking, but the hero declined. He sat down beside him, staring into the fire with hands clasped between his knees and back hunched.
"What happened?"
He shook his head, dropping his head into his hands. "Too much."
They sat there in silence for several minutes, listening to the pounding rain on the roof. The door opened suddenly and two forms entered. Athan, tiny, soaked and shivering, followed by the Druid. The man had apparently just jumped out of bed, for he was bare-chested and had no shoes one. Soaked and feet covered in mud, Drystaen ran a hand through his chestnut hair plastered to his head and looked at the Kin-Slayer. His deep amber eyes flickered to him then up the stairs.
"Should’ve known it was you," he said as he climbed the stairs. "What have you done now, Eialai?"
The room grew cold and still. Everyone was grew silent; even the Sword, who constantly whispered the inane language of the Old Kingdom when not spoken or wielded, grew very cold, its heat drawn away by the use of that name. Eialai, the name of the Kin-Slayer, had been used. He gritted his teeth and turned back to the fire, the flames reflecting his emotions at the moment. A long time ago, he had trusted Drystaen enough to tell him his true name, something very few people knew. He never thought the Druid would betray that trust.
Athan, shivering and cold, looked at the stairs and the two by the fire, confused.
"Who’s Eia-"
"Go dry off and back to bed with you," his father quickly interjected, nodding sharply toward the stairs. "Now."
"Yes, da," the boy said, his eyes glancing fearfully at the man beside his father and then hurrying upstairs. The Chief looked at Eialai, wondering if to say anything. He sighed, gripping his knees.
"Drystaen-"
"Is a *******," was all Eialai said as he rose and exited the door, closing it with a slam. He met the fury of the storm head on. It was out there, in the madness of rain and thunder he would find his solace. If the gods Above and Below that Agatha prayed to were real and merciful, he prayed finding that solace would kill him.

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Hmmm, not my best work actually. A little rough. eh, I'll leave it and make the next part better. Hopefully everyone will still read it.

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Interlude

Gwynn didn’t know why there was so much blood.
She had undressed the boy after the Kin-Slayer left, assessing wounds and fractured bones; he had a great many cuts and abrasions, but none could have made so much blood. The white sheets became stained within minutes, and if something wasn’t done he would bleed to death.
She found out soon.
Drystaen came in moments later, finding her attempting to stop the bleeding, and both knew by the others paled face that it was bad. With Gywnn’s knowledge and Drystaen’s Will healing, they managed to stop it. They began work on the rest of him in silence, sick and uncomfortable.
Cuts bandaged and bones in splints, they carefully moved him over to the second bed by the far wall so the other bed could be stripped and cleaned. He only gave a small whimper of pain, but the herbs Gwynn had given him kept him unconscious. Both quickly determined the sheets would have to be burned, there was no saving them, and the bed needed new straw.
Everything was done in silence, for this was a place of healing, and words could do more damage than any blade or spell.
Drystaen took the soiled sheets out of the room, removing their tainting presence and bringing new ones in, while Gwynn attempted to make the boy more comfortable. As she fixed and propped his pillows, a shattered hand weakly grabbed her wrist. Gwynn started in surprise, then bent down beside him and gently closed her hand around his.
"…don’t tell…"
The words shocked her, and she looked at Drystaen, for words, for comfort, for anything. Drystaen looked away and continued to make the bed. Gwynn brushed a comforting hand across his head.
"Shhh," she soothed, "It will be fine."
She could tell he was struggling to stay conscious, fighting the effects of the herbs. She silently prayed for sleep to take him before he said anything else.
"…please, don’t…promise…"
Gwynn struggled against the tears in her eyes. She nodded and swallowed hard, patting his head.
"Of course, I promise. Sleep."
With her promise, he stopped fighting and his eyes closed, sleep and exhaustion taking him. Gwynn remained with him for a few moments more, then laid his hand across his chest and rose, leaving the room. Outside the door, she leaned back against the wall, hands over her face and her chest rising and falling hard against suppressed sobs. When Drystaen came out she regained her composure. He leaned against the wall with her, arms crossed.
"Oh, gods, Druid," she said, the emotional toll of the ordeal beginning to show. "I’m starting to feel my age."
"How did this happen, Gwynn?"
She shook her head, twisting a loose curl of red hair around her finger. "I don’t know. He brought him in."
Drystaen was silent for a moment. "Do you think he did this?"
Gwynn suddenly felt so cold. "…no."
Drystaen faced her, his amber eyes catching hers and making her look at him. "You don’t sound so certain."
"Drystaen, stop. You are not going to blame him for this. He is not capable of such a thing. That’s a child, for the sake of the gods!"
"We don’t know what he’s capable of! He killed his own sister!"
Gwynn shook her head. "I don’t want to hear anymore of this." She turned to walk back downstairs, but Drystaen grabbed her arms.
"He killed his sister, Gwynn! He killed Whisper too, his own friend! What if that were Athan in there, what-"
"Enough!" She threw him back, catching herself as she reached for a concealed dagger at her hip. She pointed at him.
"Nothing of what we discovered is to be spoken of without the boy’s consent, is that understood? Your petty vengeance against the Kin-Slayer-" she stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. "It ends, Drystaen. Now. I can’t bare to watch my sister-son tear himself apart over something out of the control of any man. Do what you want, but never bring that taint into my house again."
Drystaen looked at the floor, anger and humiliation burning in his face. Gwynn walked over to him and placed a cool hand on his face.
"I want you to tell the Hero that the boy will live. Nothing else. No promise or oath has ever been broken in this village, and it never shall be, not while I live. Promise me this, please."
Drystaen looked at her, and she took a step back. The hate and anger in his eyes was immense, and at the moment was directed at her. But then it was gone, and the calm look she knew from when he was a little boy return.
"I promise. I…trust you, Gwynn, though I don’t often understand you."
He smiled, and when Gwynn returned it, he went downstairs. She silently said a prayer, for them all, and returned to the boy.

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

Confronted Memories:

Eialai could do nothing as he watched Kayle empty his stomach into the bucket, cold sweat breaking out all over his body. He watched his lover heave and sob, not knowing what to do. He took the wet cloth from the back of Kayle’s neck, wringing it out in the bowl of cool water and soaking it, placing it back on his neck and rub his bare back.
He wasn’t getting any better. He hated to admit it, but he hated to realize even more that his lover was wasting away before his very eyes. Gaunt and pale, his lean fighter’s body was unhealthily thin and the muscles weakened. Many nights Eialai had had to carry him to bed, Kayle too exhausted to move.
The nausea subsided after a bit, Kayle leaning back against Eialai and panting. He said nothing, wrapping an arm around his sickly form and brushed the sweat soaked dirty blond locks from Kayle’s brow. He kissed the top of his head and leaned them both back against the headboard of their bed, pulling the covers over them as Kayle’s violent shivering started.
“I’m sorry,” he said, teeth chattering and leaning deeper into the dark man’s embrace.
“Shut up. Don’t you say that. It’s my fault and you know it, if I-”Eialai faltered, continuing after a moment. “If I hadn’t left-”
“Can we stop this and both take the blame?”
Eialai smiled. “You started it.”
They sat there in silence, looking out the window at the snow that had begun to fall on Snowspire Village. After a while, Eialai spoke with his voice full of emotion.
“I’m sorry, Kayle,” he said, brushing his sick lover’s hair back. Kayle sighed, turning his head to look up into his violet eyes with his piercing green ones.
“Eialai, stop-”
“Please let me say this. I’m sorry I left without seeing you. I’m sorry I left you alone to fight this, without anyone to help you. I’m sorry for the pain and trouble I caused you cause of the ****ty choices I made.”
He stopped, hating this emotion welling up in him. “I’m s-sorry I hurt you…I never meant to-”
“I already forgave you for that-for everything,” Kayle said tightly, turning back to look out the window. Eialai cleared his throat, trying to dispel the tightness clamping his throat. Kayle coughed suddenly, a hacking fit making him double over in pain. Eialai could do nothing but offer the comfort he knew didn’t help, lacing his fingers with his.
“****!” Kayle screamed between hacks, gripping Eialai’s hands tightly. He grew red in the face, spit dribbling from his mouth. The coughing subsided soon, just like the vomiting. Kayle wrenched himself out of Eialai’s embrace and out of bed, stumbling to the floor banging his knees. Eialai reached out to him, only to have his comfort smacked away.
“Don’t touch me, dammit!” He could see the disgust on Kayle’s face, not at him but directed at himself. He was disgusted with his own body, his sickness. Kayle panted, back hunched as he fought off another coughing fit.
“I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to die like this! I used to be a HERO! I don’t want to die at the hand of this disease!”
“You still are a Hero, Kayle,” Eialai said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kayle laughed bitterly.
“No, I’m not! A Hero doesn’t have his life ended by sickness, doesn’t let himself waste away to nothing! A Hero doesn’t have his privileges with the Guild get taken away without a fight so he can spend the remainder of his dying days with his fag lover in the Wastes!”
Kayle froze. He cursed and spun around, meeting the stone-faced Eialai. He rose up on his knees and held Eialai’s face in his hands. His face was stricken with panic, his green eyes searching his face.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Eialai, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it, I should have never said that! Please, I’m sorry! Oh gods, I’m sorry!”
Eialai nodded, leaning in and giving him a soft kiss. He couldn’t say the words didn’t hurt. They had been together since their training at the Guild, they knew each other in and out. Like with all those you love, they knew how to hurt each other worst, intentionally or otherwise. It was one of the risks of being with someone, but the happiness it gave was worth it all.
Kayle held the kiss longer, hands on Eialai’s neck and shaking, but not from the cold or sickness. They broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together, Eialai placing his hands on his lover’s hips.
“I can still find someone, I can try find a healer-” Eialai began, but Kayle cut him off.
“Stop. Just stop. We both know you’re not going to find anything. You’ve spent everything looking for a healer or cure. You moved us to Snowspire and gave me a little more time while you consulted the Oracle and spoke with Scythe. There is no hope for this, Eialai.”
“I can do more, I know I can. I can search the Necropolis! There has to be something-”
“Eialai, please stop. There isn’t anything you can do.” He smiled, laughing softly. “It’s not like we haven’t tried everything. Hells, we were desperate enough to go the Temple of Avo and see what they said.”
They both laughed, Eialai nuzzled the side of his nose.
“I was pretty desperate,” he said, “They hate me, especially Lionious…”
Kayle was silent for a moment, finally speaking slowly.
“I don’t want to do this anymore.”
Eialai’s heart dropped. “Are you giving up?”
Kayle shook his head slowly. “No…at least, I don’t think so. I don’t know! But I know I don’t want to die confined to bed.”
Eialai closed his eyes, leaning his head on Kayle’s shoulder. “What do you want to do then?”
“I want to die…like I planned to when I joined the Guild. I want to die fighting, I want to find my death at some monster or blade…not this sickness.”
Tears rose in his eyes, but he refused to shed them. “So-um-when?”
“I don’t have even a month, we both know that. I can feel my body dying even now. I-I want to do it tomorrow. I want to leave in the morning.”
“Do you want me to help you?”
Kayle shook his head. “I need to do this last thing myself. I don’t want you there, Eialai, I don’t want you to see it. Please…let me do this.”
Eialai worked the muscles on his throat, trying to wet his mouth. Words were so hard right now.
“Okay,” he finally managed. “Do-do what you need to. I won’t come, won’t stop you. If you need this death, this way. Go take it. But…”
He grabbed Kayle’s chin, tilting it up and staring him deep in the eyes. “Don’t make it an easy death. You’ve never been one for the easy way.”
“Promise.”
“Eialai.”
He woke with a start, tears in his eyes. Laying on the steps of the Chief’s hut, the sun broke the early morning sky, casting a glow over him. He was muddied and soaked; after storming out of the house he had trekked around the village before settling on the steps for sleep. Out of mushrooms to keep him awake and his dream suppressants misplaced, his sleep had been restless.
Trying to be subtle but unsuccessful, he wiped the tears conjured from his dream away, looking up at the bare-chested Druid before him. For the first time, he found himself admiring Drystaen’s well toned form. Drystaen shifted uncomfortably under his searching gaze
“Eialai?”
“Hmm?”
“The boy-”
“James,” he said, looking up into his eyes. “His name is James.”
Drystaen was silent for a moment. “James is in the clear, for now. He’s resting upstairs, if you want to see him.”
The Druid turned to go back in, but Eialai grabbed his pant’s leg. Drystaen stumbled a bit, looking down at Eialai in confusion.
“What-”
“You lied to me,” he said dangerously. “You told me you didn’t know where she was. You said you didn’t know her. You lied to me. You’ve already broken my trust, towing the line here, aren’t you?”
Drystaen’s breathing increased. “So what? What would you’ve done if I told where she was? I saw what you were like after the last time, I saw the bloodlust and hate! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have-”
He was up in whirl of darkness, pinning the Druid against the side of the house. There was a maddening light in his violet eyes, one that terrified Drystaen.
“You have no idea what she did to me! You only saw what you wanted to see!” His voice quavered with barely constrained emotion. “She broke me! She made me face everything in my life, every insecurity and hurt and pain I ever suffered! She broke me to free me! You’ll never understand what she did to me! You’ll never know what she is! You look up to that witch-***** as a mentor, as some saintly User of the White Will, but you refuse to see her as she really is; a MONSTER!”
Eialai’s hand shifted on Drystaen’s shoulders, an unusual look coming across his face. Thumbs placed in…peculiar ways, a stroking way on his arms, Eialai’s breathing oddly laboured. Drystaen remained still for a moment, some strange feeling keeping him hypnotically still with a need for the Kin-slayer’s touch to…He shook his head and threw off Eialai’s arms, moving to the door of the hut. He looked at the Kin-slayer oddly.
“What did you do to that boy?”
Eialai took a step forward, stopping when he sensed Drystaen drawing on his Will. Eialai held up his hands.
“What are you talking about? I saved him.”
“Is that what you are calling it?”
Eialai frowned. “What happened to James, Drystaen?”
Drystaen looked as though he was going to say something else, but stopped. “Nothing. Forget it, like you really care.”
An iron hand grabbed Drystaen’s wrist as he turned to go inside. “I don’t like secrets, Druid. You are going to take me to her, and you will take care of that boy. Before this day is over, I’m going to know everything. That is a promise.”
He let the Druid go, who quickly went inside. Sitting back down on the steps, he stared into the rising sun, losing himself in thought…

That was the last night they spent together. Wrapped in Eialai’s arms, Kayle didn’t have another fit or attack for the rest of the night. They didn’t make love, not in the physical way, Kayle’s body unable to handle the exhilaration. Instead they spoke to each other, comforting one another with caresses and kisses, finally falling into an unwilling sleep neither wanted.
In the morning Eialai woke to an empty bed; Kayle gone and his sword gone from the weapons cabinet. He spent the next few agonizing hours in his house alone, waiting. Scythe came later that afternoon; guards had found Kayle’s body around the Necropolis entrance, sword in hand and three dead Balverines at his feet.
“He died the warrior’s death,” Scythe said, his voice filled with pride and sadness.
Eialai broke down in the dead man’s arms, comforted by the only Hero who truly understood him. They soon left to collect the body, Scythe commanded no one to touch it. It was Eialai alone to bring his lover and friend back to Snowspire. Cradling his lifeless body in his arms, he brought him back to the Village. They laid him out in the Circle of the Oracle, where they prepared him for the next life. As Eialai watched them clean his body and dress it in the white robes of a warrior, Eialai felt a part of himself close off to protect himself from the pain.
And he knew; he died a little that day.

 

[bettyalso]

Re: Kin-Slayer

wow your like my hero, ive been trying to mke fan fics as good as this one ++++rep

 

[HodgePodge]

Re: Kin-Slayer

This really is impressive, one of the best fan fics I've ever read, and I've read a lot. +++rep :thumbsup:

 

[AeonicBloodline]

Re: Kin-Slayer

*Ahem* I realise that...well, I've been gone forever (family issues, surgery, the usual life) and everyone is most likely moved on from this little dribble. But I thought I would put my feelers out and see if anyone is still interesting in the "Kin-Slayer"...

 

[AON of Greatnes]

Re: Kin-Slayer

I am! It's great. Just found it 20 minutes ago.