Mage Slayer part 2: The Calling

 Jack stood in the forest dumbfounded looking at the woman who glowed in the dark, so many questions ran through his mind beginning with, "Who are you?"

She smiled, "I am Nimue, and you have been chosen to fight the one whom The Balor has chosen, it has been prophesied that the giants would return."

Jack looked down, "But I'm not a hero, I'm not a knight. You chose the wrong person for this task."Nimue smiled, pointing at the bear, Jack looked, "Okay yeah I can handle myself against a wild animal, but I'm not a knight, my brother is, he's the one you're looking for."

"Your brother is the one the Balor has chosen to fight. It is your duty and responsibility to answer the call and defeat him." Jack spinned, "What is The Balor, and why did he choose my brother, and why must I fight him?"

Nimue's smile faltered as the air around them shifted, the ground beneath their feet cracked and crumbled as Jack stumbled the world around them changed, "what is this?" Jack asked as he saw...other beings around them fighting, he wouldn't be able to describe what he saw even if he wanted to, but they were beings made of light and darkness blasting each other with fire and force, as the conflict escalated. 

"This is the war that wages every second in the unseen, as you sleep in your bed, Jack. In ancient times there was one, and that one created the celestials, out of nothing." She paused as Jack soaked it in, she looked at Jack as she said, "Then the one created man, and a celestial, WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED, corrupted man. Teaching him magic, mingling human and celestial seed, creating the abominating giants that you read about in your legends." 

"And now he wishes to take my brother..." Jack said fully understanding.

Nimue interjected, "Originally his mistress intended to take you."

"Me?" Jack exclaimed, "WAIT...Mistress?"

Nimue looks away dismissively, "it doesn't matter, the enemy forces have chosen your brother to replace their mistress as their mage." 

"I'm not a hero, I can't fight a mage, let alone my older brother, I have no magic, and I can't fight giants, I'm just a farm boy." 

Nimue chuckled as she shifted them back to Jack's reality, "you sound just like Arthur, when he was your age, he didn't think that he could be a king, let alone the king over Camelot."

Jack looked up.

Nimue smiled gracefully and curtsied, "At your service young sir, Jack the Giant slayer."

Jack exclaimed, "I'm not a giant slayer, nor a mage Slayer, get that through your thick...." 

Jack noticed that she was translucent, "Or...translucent...skull...head...I don't know, I'm not THE MAGE SLAYER!"

Jack left in a huff back to the barn, as Nimue stood, fading from our realm, her voice like a faint echo, "But you are Jack, Jack the Giant killer."

In Fengar Castle inn, Dredmur slumbered peacefully as Morgan stood above him, the moonlight barely illuminating her figure, her hair glowed as her hand floated over his head leaving him in a trance as she practiced her dark magic on his mind, she strained as she pushed farther into his mind. A dark mist flooded the room, as it clumped together to form the figure of a man as she started, "It is only me, dear daughter." The figure said, his voice echoed in a high pitch tone, of course only she could hear it, being half celestial herself.

She straightened her stance as she masked her unease. The figure creped forward leaning over Dredmur, as he pulled his eyelid open. "This one has a strong will, no wonder why you can't talk, if you are concentrating hard enough."
Morgan grimaced, "Of... course, I... Am..."

The figure chuckled, "Don't talk dear, you'll wake him with your sound. Does he know his mission yet?"

Morgan shook her head, her neck muscles straining as she concentrated, The figure said, "We do not have much time dear, the One has already moved on their progeny, we must make progress on ours."

Morgan strained, "He... is... mine to con...control."

The figure recoiled, "He is the master's to control, not yours, don't forget your purpose."

She strained, remembering her punishment for failing the last time, she knew the cost. Yet, why did she still plan her own way? "Stop thinking and finish your mission, child!" The mist, now a deep fog floated around them, "Don't let your ambitions exceed your abilities, you will not survive the next failure."

Morgan grimaced as she pushed herself deeper into Dredmur's mind, she was in? She made it, now his mind was hers to command. Her father smiled... was that a smile? It looked like an emotion that mirrored happiness. Dredmur woke from his slumber, as a light flooded the room, the creature that spoke to Morgan shrieked, "Sunlight, I must leave," He began to fade from the realm, "Don't fail this time daughter, don't fail."

Morgan cupped Dredmur's face in her hands as he sat up, "Did you sleep well, my love?" she asked her voice now soft and gentle.

Dredmur smiled, "I always do when you're close by."

Morgan kissed him this time her lips moving over his like a Cheeta pouncing a gazelle. She would make him do what she wanted, kill who she needed dead and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

She pulled back from the kiss, "There is something I need you to do for me, Mordred."

Dredmur's eyes changed color, from green to red. Mordred took over, grinning, he said, "Yes mistress anything."

Morgana smiled.

© Copyright Tailspinners Ink all rights reserved 2024

Jaakan's hate

Jaakan and Jud'la stood in the courtyard, their movements accompanied by the crackling sound of the fire. The torches nearby flickered, casting dancing shadows on the ground. As Jaakan manipulated the flames effortlessly, the courtyard was bathed in a warm, golden glow, pushing back the surrounding darkness. 

Suddenly, Jud'la's fist struck Jaakan's chest with force, causing him to stumble and lose his balance. "Well done, my young student," Jud'la praised, his voice resonating in the quiet night. "But remember, true strength lies not only in power. What did I teach you on the very first day?" 

Jaakan's voice trembled slightly as he replied, "True strength comes from Eloh becoming your strength, Shimori Jud'la." The words hung in the air, mingling with the scent of burning wood and the faint aroma of sweat. 

Impressed, Jud'la circled around Jaakan, his footsteps barely audible on the stone ground. He stopped in front of Jaakan, who kept his head respectfully bowed. "Tell me, what is your purpose?" Jud'la inquired, his voice filled with curiosity. 

"To perfect my technique, to become the perfect Shimori," Jaakan responded with determination. "And to rid my world of darkness." The words carried a hint of urgency, like a flame yearning to consume the darkness. 

"Rid the world of darkness," Jud'la repeated, his voice resolute as he locked eyes with Jaakan. The weight of his gaze sent a shiver down Jaakan's spine. "And how do we achieve this?" 

Jaakan's gaze lifted towards the sky, his eyes filled with unwavering confidence. "The key is to maintain purity, untainted by any mixture or dilution, by staying connected to the Yah," he declared. The cool night air brushed against his skin, heightening his senses and strengthening his resolve. 

Jud'la's gaze held a mixture of pride and certainty as he spoke softly, "When the Malik'Aram comes, I pray that he discovers his servants as devoted as you, my student." Jaakan felt a surge of gratitude and respect, his heart swelling with a sense of purpose. 

"Thank you, Shimori," Jaakan whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and determination. 

As Jaakan strode confidently across the cobblestone courtyard, a palpable tension filled the air. The piercing gaze of the Septuni Soldiers bore into him, their presence looming tall and imposing. Their polished armor emitted a faint glow, casting an eerie light in the darkness. Undeterred, Jaakan's determination burned fiercely in his eyes as he pressed on towards the Governor's quarters. 

Entering the opulent palace, the cacophony of enraged voices and the clinking of armor assaulted his ears, creating a symphony of discord. General Rufis, breaking away from his meeting with Jaakan's father, raised his head and turned to face him. Governor Zamiel, weariness etched on his face, "Son, You're home early." 

With a stern gaze, Rufis peered down at Jaakan, his voice dripping with condescension, "Is that your heir?" 

Zamiel, his fatigue evident, confirmed, "Yes, that's my son." 

Rufus, leaning in closer, taunted him, "I hope you're as weak-willed as your father, boy." 

Jaakan, refusing to be belittled, defiantly looked up, "You have no right to talk about my father in such a manner!" 

The tension in the room escalated, prompting Zamiel to interject, "Jaakan please…" 

Jaakan interrupted, "No father, who do they think they are coming here and taking our home, our workers, our crops, our panthers," the anger built in his voice, "Our firstborn! We aren't like you Ithori mangelodites, we value our firstborn…" 

Zamiel, now enraged, shouted, "Zamiel!" 

Rufus chuckled, his laughter echoing in the air, "Kids got more stones than you, Barfos, for your sake I hope he doesn't become the next Governor, because I'd love to make an example out of this one or face him on the battlefield." 

Jaakan looked up at Rufus, his eyes blazing with defiance. "You won't get the chance, Ithori." 

Walking out, Rufus couldn't help but break into a wide smile. 

© Copyright Tailspinners Ink and Dustin Cooley all rights reserved 2024

The Humbled Prince

     With contempt, the prince looked down on the boy who dared to confront him in this filthy alleyway. The alleyway was crowded with drunk commoners and servants. Slimy refuse covered the ground beneath their feet. Light from the orificium posts barely penetrated the smoky darkness, casting an eerie glow on the crowd in the alleyway. The boy appeared oddly unfazed by the stench, as if he had grown accustomed to it. The Green zone couldn’t produce a spawn that could rival me. The name Dufonious Maximus Gandulfton the second shall be renowned as the most honorable of fighters, for I am the son of one of the kings and the nephew of the esteemed emperor. 

 

“Alright let’s settle this,” Bovin Leer was unwilling to let this high and mighty nobleboy think he’s gotten the better of his family. He assumed a low guard position with his hands and a flow stance. If this snot-smoking-lizard-lover says anything about her again… well… he’s getting my fist in his mouth. 

 

Dufonious took off his coat and handed it to one of his underlings, “I shan’t be more than a minute.” Despite the men chuckling, the prince saw this as mere child’s play, or so he thought. 

 

The occasional rat scurried across the ground, as they prepared for their fight, the drunken crowd cheered, anticipation filling the air as the high Prince positioned himself, raising his hands to his temples with clenched fists.  

 

Brovin smirked as he casually lowered his hands, swaying his fingers in a fluid motion focusing on the moment, the light from a distant lantern flickered in his eye.  

 

“No matter how this fight ends, you’ll still be the son of a whore, a whore that…” With determination, Dufonious stepped forward, his knee rising as he prepared to launch his foot forward. “…I…”  

Skillfully, Brovin leaned back, dropping to his side. He unleashed his fist forward towards The Prince’s head. The punch, however, connected to his shoulder with a hard thud, reverberating through the ally way. As the punch propelled him backward against the brick wall, the prince could feel the slime beneath his feet slide him into the wall. 

 

Now my foot is going for your gut. Brovin smirked. 

 

Dufonious’ face shifted with frustration as he leaned against the wall, the brick was rough against his hand as he pulled back, touching his head to see blood where his face scraped against the roughness of the wall. Humiliated, he charged forward, his muscles tensing as he clenched around Brovin’s neck tightly. With a swift maneuver, Brovin effortlessly slipped out, retreating backward, slowing his breath. Determined, the arrogant prince charged again, his footsteps echoing the shame he felt deep in his stomach. Brovin swiftly raised his knee, delivering a powerful blow to Dufonious’ gut. Agony washed over the prince as he reeled back. Brovin re-assumed his stance, not a single blow connected to this lowly wart. 

 

The prince leaned against the wall, catching his breath. I can’t let this whoreson wart win. For my honor, I must knock him down! The prince leaned back, his leg extending forcefully towards Brovin’s head. But with a quick motion, the boy shrugged his shoulder, effectively blocking the kick. In a swift countermove, he retaliated, his kick landing squarely on the prince’s mouth. 

 

Dufonious found himself on the ground, his frustration boiling over into a yell. Squeezing the gravel beneath his hands in frustration. Ignoring the pain, he stood up, throwing the dust at Brovin’s eyes. Then he relentlessly kicked at his head. Brovin skillfully leaned back, narrowly evading the kicks, barely able to make out the movement. Years of watching the nobles train from their fences, he knew how the prince moved. Explosively, the boy launched his fist forward. The impact of his fist connecting with the prince’s nose resonated in the air. 

 

Brovin wiped his eyes, “Resorting to cheep tricks? How unnobly of you?” 

 

Frustrated, Dufonious attempted another push, throwing his knee out. But Brovin anticipated the move and swiftly threw his foot out first. This time, however, the prince managed to catch the foot. Pivoting on his foot, Dufonious aimed for a hook kick, his determination palpable. Yet, Brovin leaned back and to the side, effortlessly evading the attack. 

 

As the prince pivoted again, Brovin seized the opportunity. With a swift and precise motion, his fist shot upward, connecting with Dufonious’ chin, pain shooting through the prince’s head as he flew back and fell against the wall. 

The prince was out cold. 

© Copyright Tailspinners Ink and Dustin Cooley all rights reserved 2024