Visions of Magic - Invasion

  This was her chance. She pulled her legs up and cut as fast as she could through the rope that bound them. Kasa was still intent on what now sounded like a sword fight outside. She stealthily got to her feet and crept up behind him.

  She said a quick silent prayer to Zartosh, grabbed his head and thrust the hunting knife deep into his neck to cut his jugular. As he started to flail about in shock she quickly pulled out the knife then thrust it hard up into the base of his skull. The knife blade crunched its way into the his brain and killed him quickly.

  In her religion it was important to kill a man fast. The spirit of a man killed quickly was free to move to the after world, the spirit of a man left to die slowly and painfully would be bound to the world to haunt the dreams of its killer and she did not want that.

  She dropped the hunting knife and grabbed Kasa's sword from the blood soaked ground. She pulled back the tent flap and could see the old soldier called Tobias in battle with a Hashashin.

  Several enemy soldiers who also looked like sheep herders lay dead nearby along with two of her brethren Nizari. Tobias was skilled with the sword, but he was outmatched by the Hashashin and fought a desperate defence.

  The Hashashin made a lunge at Tobias which he barely deflected. In the process the Hashashin's scimitar made a shallow wound on his right hip. All Hashashin were master swordsmen and they always fought with a poison blade. With just a small cut the poison would start to paralyse the body within just a few minutes.

  The Hashashin stopped his attack and now only defended. After just a few more thrusts with his sword Tobias had trouble moving his right leg as the poison spread. A moment later his right arm, which was his sword arm started to droop and he quickly toppled forwards. He was still alive, but the Hashashin simply kicked aside his sword and ignored him.

  Razma dared not wait any longer to escape, but if the Hashashin saw her and realised she had been captured he would kill her without hesitation. Being taken prisoner was punishable by death. Instead of hiding she stepped confidently out of the tent.

  "Quickly before more of them come! I have the Crimson Magi!" she called urgently. The Hashashin paused, but then moved quickly to her.

  "Where?" he demanded.

  "He is inside the tent unconscious and bound, but he was too heavy for me to move myself. You came just in time!"

  The Hashashin pushed past her into the tent. As soon as he realised the only thing in the tent was the dead body of Kasa he started to turn, but even a Hashashin was not that fast and she cut him down with a single slashing blow down through his left shoulder.

  It took her a moment to pull the sword free again and she stabbed him in the heart just to make sure he was dead and hoped his death had been fast enough.

  She left the tent and raced towards the perimeter of the camp. She was fast approaching the final row of tents before she could disappear into the darkness when she was barrelled over by what felt like a charging horse.

  She landed face first with a great weight on top of her and experienced a whole new level of agony. She could not help but let her sword drop. She almost blacked out from the surge of pain and struggled to remain conscious.

  She found herself spun onto her back roughly and shaken like a dog shakes the life from a rabbit. She was dragged by the hair back into a vacant tent nearby. Inside there were two occupants, both dead on their bedrolls.

  The Black Ram stared at her with the fever of death in his eyes. It shocked her and she reeled back from it. If someone who had the death fever took your life they would own your soul forever even in the afterlife.

  "Why did you have to kill Kasa? He was just a boy! He was just defending his family!" screamed the Black Ram as he put the tip of his blade against her neck. He seemed as though he was going to kill her, but then something changed his mind and suddenly he was on top of her again pinning her to the ground.

  Her head was still spinning and she felt like vomiting. She tried to resist, but he had her firmly held to the ground. He knelt on her shoulders and sat on her chest, pushing what was left of any air out of her lungs. He sheathed his sword and grabbed his hunting knife, retrieved from the base of Kasa's skull.

  He grabbed one arm and pulled it into the air at an awkward angle. The new pain caused her to yelp involuntarily. It was also enough to snap her out of her stupor. She looked up into his death eyes as he brought her fingers up against the blade.

  "Unfortunately for you I have yet to regain my honour, so I am going to ask you some simple questions and when you don't understand them I am going to peel the skin from a finger. Then when you tell me the answers and I don't understand them I am going to peel another one you filthy bitch! When you have no fingers left then I will take you to Lord Cortria's Breaker and he can remove your toes!"

  Razma did not understand the Black Ram's words exactly, but it was very clear what he intended. It was a barbaric torture that the Nizari had not used ever since the Azdaha had begun their reign. It was one of the few good things about the Azdaha.

  She would not die slowly this way and dying quickly would not help Kimiya. She prayed to Zartosh to set her free from this enemy so she could save her sister. With her prayers as yet unanswered she did the only thing that she felt she had left as an option.

  "Black Ram...you are called Black Ram!" she blurted out in the barbarian's language. He let go of her arm instantly and pushed the hunting knife against her neck again.

  "What did you say?" he demanded.

  "I speak barbarian," she replied.

  "You mean Risandean, you are the barbarian! " he spat. "Now at least I will get an answer for each finger!"

  He still had death eyes and if she could not break free she was going to die a slow and painful death. She stared into his eyes and tried her best to look womanly with a swollen face and broken nose.

  "Please, no cut fingers. I talk."

  The Black Ram looked back at her then to her hand then back to her. His death eyes faded and he slowly got off her chest. She struggled to sit up. As much as she still wanted to kill him she was in no shape to fight. In fact she was not sure she even had the strength or ware withal to make it back to her camp alone, even if she could manage to escape again.

  "What are you called?" demanded the Black Ram.

  "I am Razma."

  "Why did your men attack the wizard's tent?"

  She did not understand the word 'wizard' and stared blankly back at him. He went to grab her hand again when she did not respond.

  "Not understand this word!" she said desperately pulling her hand away.

  "Wizard? They make magic. Metaran's call them magicians."

  "Magi?" she asked.

  "Yes Magi."

  "Hashashin come to kill them."

  "Why?"

  "Azdaha is scared."

  "Who is Azdaha?"

  "Azdaha is not who it is many. They come from the snake. If you don't know what is Azdaha then soon you will," she said ominously.

  "I am not afraid of these Azdaha. I have cut the head off many snakes," said the Black Ram confidently. "So you are not Azdaha?"

  "No, I am Nizari," she replied proudly.

  "Where do you come from and why do you invade us?"

  "Nizari is great and ancient people. Our empire across the sea is great, we conquer many and make them like Nizari to follow our god."

  "In the three hundred years since the first king of Risandea we have never bowed down to anyone except our king. Like many before you will return home defeated."

  "Like all others you will bow or die," she replied dismissively, momentarily forgetting her current situation. "Your army is small and we are many. You will all fall tomorrow."

  "Your army is large, but we have magi and we defeated you today," countered the Black Ram. The conversation was getting her no closer to escape or to saving Kimiya. Frustration and concussion got the better of her momentarily.

  "Across the plain you see not even one quarter of the Nizari and Hashashin army! Yo
u are nothing to the Nizari, just more barbarians to tame! Your magi cannot stop us. The Azdaha have strong magi too and they make dark terrible magic."

  Solomon stepped forward and shoved her down onto her back again with his boot. He waved the hunting knife in front of her.

  "Then why are the Azdaha so scared of our magi?" he demanded.

  "Not scared of all, just scared of the Crimson Magi," she replied trying to sound submissive again. Her head was clearing so if she could just catch him off guard she might still be able to get the best of him and escape. As unrealistic as it was she had to try or she would never get to Kimiya.

  "Why? Why are they scared of the Crimson Magi?" insisted the Black Ram.

  "I not know. Not matter now, Hashashin take him to Azdaha," she lied.

  "How do you know they took him?"

  "Hashashin only come at night to kill or kidnap. I know where they will take him. I can take there."

  The Black Ram sheathed his hunting knife and rested a hand firmly onto the hilt of his sword. He looked at her in the eyes then his lips slowly curled into a sneer.

  "You are smart to have learned my language, but it gives you away when you try to lie because you have to think too much about your words. Something my friend Farrel taught me. You really must think me a barbarian if you think I would believe that you suddenly want to help me out of the kindness of your heart." The Black Ram's grip on the hilt of his sword sent his knuckles white as he squeezed it tightly. "You had better speak fast and speak the truth and convince me or I will be removing your head."

  Razma slowly climbed to her feet, still a little shaky, yet she stood defiantly in front of him. If it was not for Kimiya she would have spat in his face and dared him to finish her fast, so she could at least rest in the afterlife.

  Instead she had come to the realisation that Zartosh had answered her prayers for deliverance after all. Unfortunately her god had given her the Black Ram as her guide.

  "I give you truth," she said with a sadness in her voice that seemed to touch him. "Nizari do not even want this wet cold land! Azdaha make us come here."

  "So you hate Azdaha and now you will help me...this is another lie," replied the Black Ram.

  "Not lie. You no understand. Nizari is great and many. Our empire is for more than one thousand years great, but Azdaha make us come. They control Nizari, they control Hashashin, they control Orcs and soon they control you. They have magi with strong evil magic. They can make a poison in the mind. They only fear the Crimson Magi. It is not good for Nizari if they kill him and not good for anyone if they poison his mind."

  "How do you know all this, you are just a foot soldier?" he demanded. It seemed he was still not convinced. She dared not tell him the entire truth lest he fall into the hands of the Azdaha himself. Yet she had to tell him enough of the truth so he would let her lead him back to her camp and hopefully let his guard down along the way so she could kill him.

  "I am guard of the Dreamweaver. She told me," she admitted reluctantly. "Azdaha let her mind be free because she can see the future. She sees the Crimson Magi can defeat them."

  "Why would she tell you this?"

  "My mind is also free and I help her to free my people. Very secret or they will poison our minds too."

  The Black Ram paced back and forth as he digested everything she had just told him. Her eyes darted around the tent as he paced, looking for anything she could grab that was a weapon. The Black Ram was after all just another warrior so she had little faith that he would really understand or believe anything she told him.

  "If we save my friend he will help us defeat your entire army not just the Azdaha," replied the Black Ram with religious belief in his voice. She shrugged not wanting to tell him exactly what she knew about that aspect of the future.

  "Many sacrificed for freedom already. Not different if more die."

  The Black Ram stopped pacing suddenly, drew his sword and pointed it at her as he spoke cursing words that she did not fully understand. He then waved the sword in the direction of the tent flap.

  "Move!" he ordered. He prodded her with the tip of his sword to hurry her along, but warily kept his distance from her so he had a full swing if she tried anything.

  They crept around the camp, as it recovered from the chaotic night skirmish, until he located a fallen Hashashin horse. He proceeded to strip it of its reigns then bound her hands so tightly with them that she feared he would cut them off completely.

  "I would just as soon as cut your throat than trust you, but my friend is gone and I believe your friends have kidnapped him. That makes you my only chance to rescue him. Take me to the Crimson Magi without getting us caught or killed and I will give you my word under oath that I will let you go unharmed. Then we may meet properly on the battlefield and this time I will run you through instead of breaking your nose!"

  "Only oath to Zartosh has meaning to Nizari," she replied with contempt as they left the camp and moved into the darkness.

  "In Risandea the words of an oath are binding until it is fulfilled by action or death. If you don't believe me ask the Crimson Magi when we find him."

  #

  Farrel woke with a start as a pitcher of water was thrown in his face. He was still disorientated from the strange dream and it took him a few moments to regain his senses.

  He found himself looking at a large man with skin as black as night whose eyes were rolled into the back of his head. He stood motionless in front of Farrel still holding the pitcher.

  He was inside a very large tent and it was still night judging by the low level of orange flickering light made by various oil lanterns burning away.

  He tried to move, but found that he was firmly bound to a sturdy wooden chair. He struggled against his bonds unsuccessfully and under other circumstances might have noticed and appreciated the intricate runes carved into the wood.

  The woman who had entranced him walked into view and spoke something softly to the man in her native language. The black man did not speak or acknowledge her, yet he turned slowly and left the tent. He moved not unlike the undead.

  Farrel had not heard the woman's language before, but it had some similarities to the sailors who came from the islands in the north sea. He had heard talk from north sea islanders about another continent across the Great Sea, but he had never found anyone who had actually travelled there. It was supposed to be a hot and dry place with perpetual summer. He had previously just discounted it as a sailors yarn, but now he was having second thoughts.

  The woman turned to Farrel and smiled. It was his first opportunity to really look at her while properly awake and she was beautiful. Her olive skin had the perfection only found in oil paintings. Her hair was long and straight and was darker than the deepest night. She wore it in a long pony tail that was wrapped in a spiralling gold cord from one end to the other.

  She wore a flowing black silk dress with long sleeves and gold buttons that ran down the front. It emphasized the natural curve of her hips and her breasts. Farrel found his eyes lingering on the latter for longer than they should have before he looked her in the eyes again.

  "I am sorry to wake you this way, but we have little time," she said seriously, speaking perfect Risandean. "My name is Kimiya."

  "I am glad you speak my language because I will tell you this only one time. Release me," he said firmly.

  "I wish it were so easy Farrel Tarse," she replied casually running her hand through his hair. He pulled away from her touch and she looked hurt when he did.

  "How do you know my name?" he demanded. He was unsettled by her.

  "I have watched you for such a long time in my dreams. I am so happy to finally meet you in person," she said coming close to him and running a hand gently across his cheek. "You are even more handsome in the flesh."

  "Strange that in all my dreams and visions I have never seen you until the night before last when you entranced me," countered Farrel.

  "Only because I did not let you. There were so
many times when I wanted to let you see me, but it was too dangerous."

  "You were the one blocking my visions these last months!" he said loudly and angrily. "How did you do that? Are you a wizard?"

  Kimiya put her hand over his mouth and gestured for him to speak more quietly.

  "You must be quiet, we are right now in the middle of our enemy. I am not magi. I am a dream weaver. Like you my dreams show me the future, but I can also enter the dreams of others and take control of them. You must understand I brought you here to ensure your legacy and to protect the future of my people."

  "My legacy? What have you seen?" he demanded. He started eyeing off one of the lanterns just in case. If Kimiya understood the power of an open flame to him she would have extinguished them all already.

  "I will tell you everything and you will understand. Since I was five years old I have seen you in my dreams. Each time it was you. Sometimes weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years apart, but always you and always the future.

  Even as my skills grew and the elders in my village recognised my talents I did not tell anyone about you. Then when I was seven the Azdaha came from the Rocky Wasteland with their dark magic. Now they control the minds of my entire people. The once great empire of the Nizari is now nothing more than a nation of mindless slaves."

  "So that's how they defeated the orcs," mused Farrel out loud. "Where does the power for this magic come from?"

  "I do not know, but once it has infected your mind you too will be a slave to them. At any time they can bend your will to their own and there is nothing you can do to resist. I was lucky that I was just a child when they came. They did not need to poison my mind with their magic. I was too naive to understand what was happening around me so I helped them freely with my talent," she said shamefully. "Yet I never told them about you, something held me back. Then just over a year ago I saw you fight this army on this plain on the back of your white griffin where you died at the hands of the Azdaha. I brought you here to convince you to save yourself by bowing down to the Azdaha voluntarily."

  Farrel sat silently taking a moment to digest everything he had heard. There was no advantage in capturing him and then lying so he chose to trust her words were truthful for the moment.