Prolog

“Death, normally associated with darkness. Darkness, normally associated with evil. Evil, normally avoided at all cost. No one ever understands that it’s just a job. Not one chosen but one assigned in this world. The world, normally associated with goodness. How very wrong that perception is. How very, very wrong.” �" Ashellia, year of the dragon 756.

 

The light from the tavern filtered into the dark streets from the small windows. Laughter filtered out into the night causing the atmosphere to have a happy glow. The robed figure stood in the small puddle of light staring into the windows searching for a face.

A warm fire roared in the hearth as the patrons of the tavern conversed and drank merrily. The door opened drawing the eyes of those still in control of their faculties. Silence fell over the tavern like a plague claiming its victims with a strangling embrace. The robed figure walked slowly to the counter ignoring the mixed stares of hatred and fear.

“What do you want?” The barkeep spat out as he took a step back from the counter, “Don’t cause trouble, ya hear?”

Silver eyes regarded him with something akin to pity, “That is not my intention.”

The barkeep sneered as the robed figure let the hood of the robe down, “Even if it “isn’t your intent” trouble follows your kind wherever you go.”

Long silver hair seemed to flow down, “Hardly a fault of mine.”

Whispers ran amok across the room at the beauty of the robed woman. The barkeep seemed unfazed as she turned her attention back to him. With a thin face and pale skin the lady seemed more like a child of sixteen.

“I’m searching for a man of Kolbian descent, tall, dark hair and eyes,” The lady’s melodic voice fell like silk from her soft lips, “he’s wanted for the murder of a family in Ashdale.”

“Why is a Death Walker after a common murderer?” Skepticism dripped acid from the barkeep’s words.

The sound of chairs scrapping and crashing to the floor as someone stood too quickly diverted the Death Walker from answering. The man she had just described was fleeing for the door. Quickly the Death Walker drew symbols in the air that glowed a ghostly white. The front door closed and irrupted in thorns.

Snatching his hands back from the poisonous thorns the man turned and faced the Death Walker. His breathing became heavier and sweat beaded and trickled down his forehead. Looking around wildly for an escape and slowly realizing there was none.

“You didn’t honestly think you could escape?” The Death Walker’s voice dripped honey and syanide.

“It wasn’t my fault!” The man screamed, “It was an accident, I didn’t mean to.”

The patrons of the tavern quickly fled out of the approaching Death Walker’s way. Her silver eyes narrowed in revulsion.

“Lies.”

“It’s the truth, the farmer started it!”

“Lies.”

“He attacked me, it was self-defense!”

“Lies!”

“It’s true!”

“Lies!” The Walker raised her voice and the fire in the hearth roared in response, “The horror at that house was no accident. You have fallen, Mage Dastrius!”

The mage stopped pleading and fell silent. The patrons looked from the Walker to the mage and back waiting for what was next. Suddenly the mage started laughing softly. Quickly it escalated as he threw his head back and cackled. When he finally stopped he looked at the Walker with insane glee.

“It was so much fun.” He whispered, “The way their bones crunched, it was delicious.”

“Demon.” The Walker hissed, “Dastrius is gone, and you’ve settled into his shell nicely haven’t you?”

“SO wonderful of you to notice.” His eyes turned black and horns grew out of his temples. The patrons screamed in horror as his transformation continued. He grew another four feet tall and his skin turned red and blistery.

The Death Walker tsked as she drew a sword from her sleeve, “What a pain.”

The demon roared as he charged the Walker. Quickly casting another spell the Walker hit the demon with her sword sending him flying through the front wall into the night beyond. Running out after him she pulled the fire from the hearth around her as armor. Rain hissed as the flames licked out from her body.

The two of them fought as the lightning and thunder peeled out from the night. Buildings around them were demolished or set on fire as the fight raged on. Finally the demon fell as the Walker sliced off it’s hind leg. Crawling away from her in the muck and rubble it cried mercy.

“You gave none,” The Death Walker slowly raised her sword, “so you shall receive none.”

Stabbing down through the demon’s forehead lighting blasted the night. As the rain fell slowly the demon regained the shape of the man who lay decaying amidst the rubble. Turning from the corpse the Death Walker surveyed the destruction the fight had caused.

A small woman knelt on the ground outside the burning tavern crying bitterly as more people ran about screaming. Slowly the Death Walker approached her. Catching sight of her the woman wiped the tears from her eyes and glared in hatred.

“Leave now, Death Walker!” The barmaid spat, “Your kind brings only pain and loss.”

The silver eyed Death Walker regarded the small barmaid with a blank expression, “Hardly a fault of mine.”

Clutching the cold corpse of the barkeep the maid watched as the Death Walker slowly disappeared into the shadows the roaring fire caused. 

Reviews

[Meg]

Fantastically written, so descriptive! I absolutely loved it!