Shield of Lies Chapter 6: The Rise of Evil.
 

He stood there, looking at his face in the looking glass; but what he saw was not the reflection he was used to seeing. Even before his eyes, the man looking back at him morphed and changed into a scarred and angered version of it's former self. The image faded into shadow. Silence remained for what seemed to be hours. Then the bombartment came.

He stood there, forced to watch it over and over. Dain turned around, only to receive a volley of arrows in the chest. he was forced to watch as the Avariel turned to his death and lie gurgling on the dirt below. He watched as the explosion in the cavern engulfed what was once Litheril. He saw the man burn as rocks and stones flew everywhere. He saw an elderly man crumpled in a corner, his flesh charred from his bones...

Then the final image came: A black death's head mask, it's mouthpiece was a giant tarantula, eaching out to grasp his face...

"Beware"...

For the third time that night, Gabriel awoke a ball of sweat; and once again the searing pain brought his mind back to where he was. Looking to the sky he saw that the air over the not to distant waterfall was beginning to turn a dull red. Sunrise.

He sat up. Each time he fell asleep the dream would come to him. Sometimes in a different order; always the same images. The others were just starting to awake at this time, Gabriel hoped none of them had seen his thrashing.

Belatedly he stroked the wound on his face; It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it was the more tolerable of the two. His ribs were much better. Through Hakar's telepathy, some anesthetic herbs that Arkhon had brought, and Metrius' healing, they had been set back to their natural position and were healing fine. A dull ache still remained.

Gabriel stood from the hard ground and wandered over to the slowly moving river. He cupped his hands and drank before washing the sleep-sand from his eyes.

well, one eye anyway.

Ironically, Hakar was dreaming a much similar dream...

He saw the death of Litheril, and Dain's arrow-pocked corpse. He saw soldiers, women, and children slaughtered by the orcs. He saw Kiiri, laughing at him after some prank, now enduring unknown torments because of his own kinsman. Within him, a burning rage flared up, like a fire splashed with strong alcohol. He knew now who was responsible for this...and one thing was certain.

They would pay.

He was awakened by the throb of his first shoulder wound...the most serious one. His arm had been successfully restored to full working condition, and the wounds in his side had been healed...but his shoulder still hurt, and there was still a faint scar there.

He sighed, drawing his curved sword and taking a rag from his pocket, polishing the last traces of orc blood from it.

After the comment about going back for Flashblade made by Sarin, Jechir was faced with a decision. After a night of sleep, filled with troubled dreams about the Old Man, he made his decision. In the morning, he found Sarin and talked to him. "Sarin, as much as I value your offer to go back after my sword, I think it would be a bad idea. We would be fools to seperate ourselves from the group." He shook his head. "Flashblade represents part of my life that I have to put behind me now. My new life is not that of a student to a dying man, or as a bandit, but as an Elemental Protector. Sure, the sword meant a lot to me, but I don't want to risk my life or yours in going back for it. Until I get a new sword, my daggers and throwing knives will have to do." He then grinned. "Besides. I figure if I'm going to be an Elemental, I might as well start developing my magic for more than just cheap tricks to blind people, eh?"

"Perhaps not..." the comment was quiet, and sudden. Hakar looked out from behind the boulder he had been sitting against, sword and polishing rag still in his hands.

"With a bit of information, I could probably find it...might give me a chance to test out these new abilities." he shrugged.

Jechir inquisitively raised an eyebrow at Hakar. "Do you mean to tell me that you can locate Flashblade?" He walked over to the man. "What information must I give you?"

Hakar stood up, sheathing his blade, "Open your mind...and think about the weapon, memories of significance to you would be perfect. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's better than sitting here and doing nothing."

Jechir shrugged. "Well. It's not like I have anything to lose." With that, he sat down, cross-legged, and began thinking. The first time I found Flashblade. How could I forget? I had gotten back from hunting, seeing smoke coming from above the treeline. Back at the house, everything was aflame, the Old Man lay dead in the middle of the house. This had to be the work of bandits. I noticed something glinting near the body of the Old Man. I didn't think anything of it at the time. My sorrow was too great. I spent the rest of the afternoon digging a grave for the old man near the big oak. I used the hunting bow as a grim marker of the memory of my childhood teacher. Going back to the hut to grab the rest of my stuff before setting out, I remembered the glint. I pried open the floorboards and saw the most beautiful saber I had ever seen. I picked it up, and instantly, I felt the Light power within me respond to it. Realizing that I could focus my magic through it, I began calling it Flashblade. After thinking this, a single tear fell from Jechir's eye, in rememberance of the Old Man. The first time I ran into the bandits, they knew I was special. They didn't know that I could use magic, just that there was something special about me. Taking me in as their own, I confided in a few of them that I had mysterious powers. We began sending out fewer and fewer bandits to take on caravans, Flashblade and I managing to do the work of four or more highwaymen. Then came the day that one of them told me about how they killed this Old Man once. He said he always regretted it. That night, Flashblade and I killed every last one of my troupe. After this thought, Jechir was clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles were white. He didn't realize it, but his Light magic made a fierce glow around his body. Then there was the first time I took on a caravan by myself, Jechir smiled, and the glow around him softened. I had trained myself enough with Flashblade that my trust in it was like the trust I had for the Old Man. It was more a part of me than a tool. Functioning as one, we took on many caravans, always successful. We never even had to kill anyone, preferring to blind and incapacitate our victims. I began sleeping with a hand on the hilt of the sword. Flashblade was the last connection I had to the Old Man. Deep down, I believe that part of the essence of the Old Man is in that sword. After thinking this, Jechir suddenly looked peaceful. He was no longer aware he was thinking, everything was a light blur to him. The light around him swirled different colors, as he entranced himself into thoughts of his lost blade.

OOC: If some of this is incorrect, just tell me. I wrote this hastily.

Antarrak was very pleased. Bastion was overrun, the Elementalists were dead, and he had another bargaining chip for use against Jechir, his very own blade. Antarrak couldn't touch it, of course, but he had is carried is a burlap sack by two Orcs. "Now, on into the Southern Empire, one of our last stops on the way to Rikklain." He wasn't worried. He still had tens of thousands of troops at his disposal, as well as a country od goblins creating more weapons and armor. He had his troops dig graves for his dead and burn the enemy corpses, and he waited.

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The remants of the Black Death, about ten in number, followed the Elementalists. Talos soon regained conciousness and led them, all mounted, to the group.

OOC: all correct.

IC: Hakar swore under his breath, "It's in a sack, moving slowly Southward...from all the noise, and the voices I hear, it sounds as if the orcs have it. One of them is radiating powerful Earth magic, but he isn't carrying it himself."

Jechir's trance was suddenly broken. "Dammit!" He stood up, furious. He now wanted his sword more than ever. "It'll be no use to chase them. Not in our weakened state. I'll find a replacement, but I will personally kill whoever has my sword, first chance I get!" Jechir looked to the sky as he made this vow.