HomeHomeRegisterLog in

Share | 

 Chapter 13: Taken Hostage

Go down 
Red Blizzard

Posts : 164
Join date : 2011-05-30
Age : 25
Location : Elsewhere

PostSubject: Chapter 13: Taken Hostage   Wed Jun 15, 2011 12:01 am

Saint was jolted awake in the morning by a sudden thought. He knew he had forgotten something, he just didn’t know what. But it was something important, and that thought bothered him as he sat up at the planning table, a map of Lore wrinkled underneath his elbows. He spent five minutes shaking the last vestiges of sleep from his mind, redoing the black ponytail he wore his hair in, then groped his way into the main hall of the castle. He was just thinking about getting some breakfast when he saw the writing on the wall.

Taken Hostage: Islix Sylvia, Inside Soluna
Taken Hostage: Echoing Eiscir, Nathan Dies

The message was painted in great, smeared red letters over the length of the entire wall, one sentence on top of the other. Saint didn’t need to touch them to know that they were written in blood, probably the victims’ blood. He stood there for the longest moment, staring at the glistening letters with mouth agape, dumbfounded.


Dye tumbled out of bed to the sound of screaming. He scrambled out of bed and rushed down the stairs wielding a torch. In the faint morning light, he found a small congregation already huddled around something in the main hall. Raising his torch, Dye illuminated frightened faces, pale expressions, and the red words on the wall. Felkaranos had been the one who had screamed, standing at the back of the group with his eyes transfixed in horror. Saint had overcome his initial shock, and was now thinking deeply, eyes closed where he stood. Seth and Oblivion were also standing there, squinting to read the words, while behind them, Priest stood stock still, wavering between fear and grief. And at the very front, examining his finger, was Blizzard. Part of the writing was slightly smudged as Blizzard peered at the blood sample he had taken. After a few moments, he looked around, looking grim. Then he saw Dye.

“Oh. Hi.”

Dye grunted and took a step forward, rereading the words. “Islix Sylvia, Echoing Eiscir, Inside Soluna...Nathan Dies...What’s all this supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means? Nathan and Soluna were taken hostage.”

“Did anyone check their rooms?”

“Yep. Both empty. They came in through the windows, used magic to undo the latches.”

“And you know this because?” Dye glanced at Blizzard. Blizzard turned to Seth.

“I went to check both their rooms. There was a residual magical charge on the latches of Soluna’s window. Someone had cursed them open during the night.”

Dye swore and pounded the wall with his fist, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the stone. By that time, several more members of Requiem had joined the congregation, looking at the writing on the wall, pointing, gasping, and fainting. The Captains knew what would come next. They would have a full-scale panic in less than a minute.

Saint closed his eyes and sighed. “Dye, do the honors.”

“What do you want me to do, tell everyone to run around in circles screaming?”

“Just...tell them to go back to their rooms or something.”

“No.” Everyone turned to look at Priest.

“I think everyone has a right to know if two members of Requiem have gone missing. Just...be calm about it.” The Captains glanced at each other, but didn’t respond.


All throughout the day, the news spread. Nathan and Soluna were gone. Taken hostage. By who? Don’t ask questions. Where? See the writing on the wall. What’s Islix Sylvia? Don’t ask me, go look at a map. What’s that supposed to mean, Inside Soluna? Don’t ask questions. And will Nathan really die?

Blizzard came walking out of the armory in the early afternoon, sweating as he carried a bundle of fresh weapons over to a storage room. He was helping Aeon and Sword Saint to restock their basic supply of swords. There was to be an emergency Captain’s meeting later that day to discuss their plan of action, so he worked briskly to get his work done. He was going so fast that he didn’t see where he was going, and rammed head-long into Dye. Swords clattered to the ground by the armful as Blizzard looked up, mildly stunned.

“Hey Dye. What brings you here?”

“I’m just wandering around before the meeting.”

“Well then, got a moment to spare? I’ve got something to show you.” Dye looked up as Blizzard turned around and went back into the smithy. Curious, he followed, gathering up some of the swords Blizzard had left behind.

All was quiet in the smithy as they entered. Aeon and Sword Saint had taken a break to get some food, leaving the place silent but stifling in the afternoon heat. Blizzard walked over to one corner, where a set of mismatched weapons were propped against the wall. He picked up the biggest weapon, a massive scimitar with an edge longer than six feet, and carried it over to Dye, who was watching with a rapt fascination.

“Who does that belong to?”

“Who do you think? You’re the only one in the clan who can use something like this properly.” Blizzard swung the blade around so that the handle was pointing towards Dye, narrowly avoiding hitting the ceiling as he did so. Dye wrapped his fingers around the black handle, admiring the blade’s keen edge and dark finish as he picked it up. At once, he knew he was at home. The balance was as good as his last one, but without the lumpy inconsistencies that had come with wear and tear. The blade itself was nearly a foot longer, but the scimitar was no lighter nor heavier than his previous weapon. He would have to alter his swinging style slightly to accommodate the longer reach and the slight reduction in agility, but other than that, it was perfect. It was almost as if someone had made this sword with his exact dimensions in mind. His eyes jumped back into focus to come upon the bemused grin on Blizzard’s face.

“Well, what do you think? Does it work for you?”

“Hell yeah it does! I’m feeling better already!” Dye ran his fingers along the brilliant flaming gold designs that covered the dark metal of the scimitar’s blade. They seemed to react to his touch, glowing with hidden embers. Dye traced the various lines of gold down to the hilt, where a small, flaming creature embossed the handle.

“I made it out of iron we got from a meteor that landed a few weeks ago. It should withstand any heat you care to put it through, and come out looking as shiny as it was when it went in. I made it a little longer than you’re normally used to, just so you can get a bit more aggressive with your attacks. I hope I didn’t make it too long...”

“It’s great. This is really great.” Dye turned to Blizzard, and in a rare moment of gratitude, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Blizzard walked across the smithy to a suit of armor that lay worn against another wall. “I borrowed some armor for you to wear. I couldn’t find any Guardian armor, and it’s impossible even for a guy like me to make a suit that good, so I fixed up an old suit for you.” Dye approached the suit of armor. Something about its massive shoulder plates seemed familiar. “It’s Phoenix Plate. The armor Asterisk used to wear.”

Dye walked over slowly, reaching out to trace the line through which a blade had hewed off one of Asterisk’s arms. There was no crack. It seemed as if the armor had never been worn. “You expect me to wear this?”

“Well, it’s either this, or go running around in your boxers.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You just took his armor like that and repaired it?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly take it...Priest let me.”

“Priest? What say does he have over this?”

“Apparently Asterisk told him to get rid of the armor after he lost his arm, but Priest couldn’t bear to get rid of it. I went and asked him for it after you lost your Guardian armor, and I just finished it today.”

“Well then...”


Dye clanked into the Captain’s meeting wearing the Phoenix plate. It gave him less room to maneuver than his close-fitting Guardian armor, but it offered a great deal more protection and allowed him ample space to swing his scimitar where he wanted it to go. At the meeting, preparations were made. Blizzard pulled out a map of Lore, poring over the details as he planned out the routes to get to Islix Sylvia and the Echoing Eiscir. It was decided that no Captain would be left behind this time. Priest himself would keep watch, though Dye protested loudly.

“At least they can’t touch me! I’ll burn them to a crisp!” But Priest was firm on his decision to stay behind. He would go out only if news came that someone needed reinforcements. He wanted the Captains to be out there, acting. Afterwards, as the Captains filed out of the meeting room, Saint turned to Blizzard and opened his mouth. But nothing came out. He was still forgetting something, and went out onto a balcony two stories up to clear his head, letting the evening breeze wash over his thoughts. They were just settling in, and now they were hit by this. A kidnapping case where no one knew what to do. Blizzard would be busy with his contacts tomorrow, working out a lead. There would be no time to rest for the rest of them. They would leave the very next morning. Saint sighed, heading back to his room. That night, every single window in the castle would be barricaded. No one felt safe.

Back to top Go down
Chapter 13: Taken Hostage
Back to top 
Page 1 of 1

Permissions in this forum:You cannot reply to topics in this forum
 :: Requiem Lore :: Horizons-
Jump to: