Castle Shyr

The next section in the first chapter.

We get more Mordecai, which is always good. :) Get some insight into him a bit, and more violence.. also always good.


-Crawyn-

“Please.” Mordecai narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare mercilessly at the pleading Nanion before him. The man was in the last years of his life, hair white from sorrow and gray from age. His eyes were locked upon the lightly armored halfling before him, his hands clasped and hovering at his chest. Mordecai lifted his lip in a slight sneer and looked away at long last. If there was one thing he could not stand in the least it was that which he was forced to endure on his newest assignment. When a person pleaded for death, when they asked for the flick of a blade, Mordecai’s blood boiled. It was such a sign of cowardice, such a sign of defeat and acceptance that the halfling just could not grasp. Unfortunately the King had made it quite apparent that there were to be no survivors, and in making Mordecai ‘Captain’, he’d left the responsibility of disposing of these cowards solely to him. It only increased Mordecai’s dislike of the man, for they both knew that he would have to become an angel of death to those few survivors.

“Captain Mordecai, sir?”

The halfling ground his teeth together as his ears were assaulted by a younger Tev soldier coming up the hill. He barely moved a muscle and silenced the whelp with a simple gaze. He felt a tug on the hem of his robe and immediately lashed out his foot, hearing his boot connect with the elder Nanion’s chin. He turned his gaze slowly back to his prisoner as the Nanion hit the ground and didn’t even try to pick himself up. With a final growl of frustration Mordecai removed a blade from it’s sheath and stepped forward into a crouch. He reached forward and in a single, fluid motion, lifted the Nanion’s head by his hair and slit his throat.

“Captain Mordecai, sir, I must speak with you.” Pandal spoke again, taking a few weary steps forward, avoiding the crimson river draining down the hill. He made a slight gasp and held the papers he carried closer to his chest as Mordecai’s cold eyes snapped to the Tev’s own, locking as if Pandal were a target.

“I am no-one’s Captain.” Mordecai said in a rough voice, standing and turning towards his tent in the distance. He was fairly surprised, and highly annoyed, by the sound of footsteps trailing behind him. He almost admired the courage of the soldier for following, but was too angry to admit it.

“I apologize, Mordecai sir,” Pandal said with the deepest sincerity, bowing (which only angered Mordecai further), “but I assumed you would like to see the report on our next target?” He held out the papers stiffly, arms shaking though he tried to seem professional and unphased by Mordecai‘s dark looks. “For our attacks to continue being so successful, you should have a clear understanding of wha-” Pandal stuttered to a stop, then looked slowly down at his gut where a dagger began sending shockwaves of pain through his small frame. His fingers locked tightly around the papers as he drew his eyes up the strong arm which held the dagger in place, up to the emotionless face looming before him.

Mordecai said nothing, but gave his dagger a final twist and quickly withdrew it from the boy’s abdomen. With his free hand he pulled the reports from the dying boy’s grasp and closed the distance between himself and his tent. He reached up and pushed aside the leather flap which concealed the contents of his rather lavish abode. Luxurious only in size, the halfling’s tent was barely furnished, containing only a bed off to one side, a large and sturdy table, and his few travel belongings in a saddle pack off to the other side.

He walked purposefully towards the map-strewn table and took a seat as he unfolded the report. These packages of parchment usually consisted of an estimated population, overall size of the village, a small hand-drawn map, and other useful information about the people, however, the scouts who had created this particular report took an extra step and gave a detailed layout of the surrounding area, including, much to Mordecai’s surprise, a seventh village in the strip of six they’d been told to burn. This village had been completely overlooked time and time again, Mordecai wasn’t even sure if the King himself had knowledge of it. This mystery village had been dubbed Crawyn, whether that was it’s true name or just a title given it by the scouts Mordecai didn’t care, for his attention was now on a particularly devastating piece of information. The village, which in size was easily twice that of the other six, contained a small pathway to a secret pass through the Votoc Mountains that Mordecai’s troupe had been previously unaware of. An escape route.

“Damnit.” Mordecai hissed, picking up the report rather roughly and heading for the flap of his den. He would have to talk with the troupe, they would have to change their entire course, their entire plan. Mordecai wanted nothing more at that moment than to lay his hands on the witless scouts who had overlooked such a detrimental piece of information.

His steps faultered as he reached out to shove aside the makeshift door, and his eyes grew wide. The six villages had turned into seven villages, and this seventh could prove a threat to their mission. Rylee’s prophecy suddenly blared into his mind and he stumbled away from the door, putting a hand to his head. Valagor insisted that the reference was to the Council of Six, a group of men serving the human king, Canute, as they had been growing bolder and bolder, taking land as it suited them. Mordecai hadn’t believed him then, and he most certainly did not believe him now - now that this had arisen. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and tightened his grip around the report, his beliefs being ripped to shreds. He’d never put much stock into the prophecies, into seers and fortune-tellers, they always seemed to speak in terms that were so vague, it could be altered to affect anyone, but for some reason this, this prophecy bothered him. ‘A mistake long forgotten, will rise from the shadow.’ His lip curled into a sneer and he forced his thoughts elsewhere - Crawyn was a coincidence, nothing more.

The halfling stepped out of the stuffy tent air into the clear night and noticed immediately the tread marks left from Pandal’s heels; signaling that the boy’s corpse had been found and taken down to the pyre to be disposed of. Mordecai didn’t have long to dwell on the thoughts however, for he was alerted by the sound of two sets of approaching boots. He turned his head and narrowed his eyes as he caught the tips of two cadet helmets coming up the hill towards him.

“What do you want?” He snapped before the boys even came into complete view, startling them as they had not yet seen him. He watched with little patience as they looked nervously at each other, then one stepped bravely forward.

“Captain Mordecai, sir,” Began Eli, wringing his hands together nervously. It made Mordecai sick to see such fear, it made him sick to see other people around him. He wiped his face clean of any and all emotion, and turned to face the boys.

“I am no-one’s Captain.” He said again sharply, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down on the Tev children, in truth only a year or two younger than the halfling himself who, at twenty one, was very near to entering adulthood. “I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

A bit put-off by Mordecai’s slightly contradictory responses, Eli took a moment to gather his thoughts and remember what it was he needed to say.

“The men wish to know if they may retire for the night? Seeing as how Yush has been leveled and cleared out?” Eli looked over his shoulder at Dak, his traveling companion, but started and looked back at Mordecai when he heard the halfling utter a horrible sounding, gaffing laugh.

“No. They may not.” Mordecai said once his very brief laughing spell was over. He turned his head and began to scan the hillsides and ashes for Vala, his mount.

“You may tell them that due to the incompetence of others they are to move out through the forests there, keeping as far from Canibar as possible.”

“E-excuse me, sir?” Dak said in shock, stepping up and staring incredulously at Mordecai. “You want us to pack up?” Mordecai slowly turned to look at the boy, narrowing his eyes. He abhorred the company of others, if it wasn’t one thing, it was another: if it wasn’t their disabling fear, it was their arrogance and lack of respect. He gave a slow, stiff nod, not able to use his voice as he stared at the idiots sent on this task with him.

“Yes. Pack up and move out. Immediately.”

“And you, sir?” Eli pressed, even as he started slowly down the hill backwards.

“I’m going to make sure the blunder of your fellows hasn’t cost us our mission.” With that Mordecai took off at a slow pace towards Vala, who had shown herself at the edge of a small creek. She was a magnificent specimen, a solid ebony Clydesdale mare whose shoulders rested even with Mordecai’s head. She was fast and intelligent, the most intelligent horse Mordecai had ever seen. She shook her head, tossing her nearly purple mane as the halfling neared her.

There was hardly ever a word spoken between them, but they read each other clearly. She cocked her head lightly to one side as he neared her, then tossed it back once more and squared her footing. He walked up to her side, and after a small and almost meaningless pat to the neck, hopped up effortlessly onto her bare back and leaned forward as she took off with the crash of hooves upon hard ground.

Mordecai closed his eyes and directed his only true companion with the smallest touch, the lightest lean. He tilted his ears back slightly to block out the sounds of his confused and angry troupe, aided by the pounding of Vala’s hooves swirling through the rising mist.

The horse and rider shot out of the Tev camp with the force of an arrow and careened off into the moor, dipping up and down over the hills until they vanished completely from sight, swallowed by groping fog and rolling hills.

A single Tev soldier stood out among the rest, hands placed firmly on her hips, navy blue hair swept up in the wind as she stared in bewilderment after the halfling fleeing the camp. She shook her head and pressed her way through the mumbling crowd, thoughts of spies and betrayal kept to herself.

Stepping aside to let the angry she-Tev through, Dak cast a glance into the darkness slowly seeping into the boundaries of the Tev camp. There, dwelling in the ash and stench of decay were the unwelcome cohorts of the Tev: invisible save their glowing reptilian eyes.

“They really creep me out, you know?” Muttered a solider nearby who had noticed the direction of Dak’s gaze. “The kind of creeps that freeze the blood.” The solider tilted his head curiously, ears pinned to his skull as he watched Dak nod absently, then wander away. The solider cast one last fleeting look into the shadows, then he too returned to his duties.