The curse of the Kiriati

[Patrick]

OOC: Author's comment:

 

Any comments and criticism are appreciated. The general outline of the story has already formed in my head, and I shall be working out the details as I'm going along.

 

 

Prologue

 

Excerpt from the Book of Prophecies, Vol. III:

 

"...and thus it shall come, that two hundred and fifteen winters after the fall of the kingdom of many races the reign of terror of the three shall be established. Many shall be those whose lives become constant terror and suffering. Many shall be those to oppose them, yet none shall prevail. For the fate of the three has already been decided. Growing ever stronger they shall eventually turn against each other, while in the end only one shall remain. Then truly shall the curse of the Kiriati become fulfilled."

 

Excerpt from the Book of the History of the Kingdom of Kiria:

 

"Rich had been the inhabitants of Kiria, known as the Kiriati, yet in their quest for ever greater riches, they disturbed that which should not have been disturbed. The ancient demon laid a curse on the people and their kingdom fell during the next decades. Other, lesser races invaded their lands and the Kiriati were dispersed throughout the world, spreading the riches they had ever thinner. Yet rumors always said that the curse had never been fully fulfilled and that the worst was still to come."

[Patrick]

Chapter 1

 

Jerrick woke with a start. He recalled the vivid dream he had just had. Along with his best friends he had been for a trip to the river side, when some of them had started screaming and the whole scene had turned into a nightmare. Jerrick wiped the sweat from his brow and sat up in his bed. The faint moonlight entering through the curtains dimly lit the room. Jerrick smiled as he looked at Olira sleeping peacefully next to him. They had met two months ago and a very close relationship had developed between them since. Tonight was the first time she slept at his place.

 

Jerrick lay back in the bed and closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. He was just about to fall asleep again when he heard a scream coming from outside his house. He jumped from the bed and looking at Olira saw that she had also heard it. The sudden realization hit Jerrick, that the previous screams he had heard in his dream might have been reality. Another scream sounded, coming this time from closer to this house.

 

Then came the roar. It had been more than five years since Jerrick had heard this sound for the last time. And he had hoped to never hear it again.

 

"Get up Olira! We need to flee now." - he said in a dry tone, almost as if he were giving orders.

"Why? What's happening?" - terror was visible in her eyes. She was still only twenty-three years old.

"Piercers have come."

 

It took several seconds for Olira to realise what Jerrick was talking about. But then she acted fast. Grabbing the first clothes she found she pulled them over her nightgown, not bothering to dress properly. In the meantime Jerrick had gone over to a large box in a corner of the room and opened it. Ever since Olira had known him Jerrick had never told her what was in the box.

 

Jerrick looked at the contents of the box. He saw his old sword, Slicer. Slicer had served him well, yet Jerrick had hoped that he would never have to use her again. He called the sword a her, since it had been his only companion for several decades, and he had taken a liking to her. The blade, even after five years in the box looked sharp and did not show a single speck of dust. The ancient swordsmiths had created a masterpiece long ages ago. Jerrick wasn't the first proprietor of Slicer, as the blade had been handed down from father to son in his family for ages. Jerrick hoped to, one day be able to hand the sword to a son of his own.

 

He picked up Slicer and hefted the blade. His muscles still seemed to remember the weight of the blade. As a new roar came from outside Jerrick turned back to the box, putting Slicer gently next to the wall. The only other content of the box was a small package, wrapped into some paper. Jerrick took the package and place it next to Slicer. He then quickly grabbed a pair of trousers and a shirt and dressed.

 

Olira was already ready and watched Jerrick preparing. She had only heard of Piercers in legends, yet even those legends were enough to plant a deep fear of them into her heart. Piercers were creatures, which had originally been created as a magical experiment from bears. But during the ages, they had been modified and did not resemble bears at all anymore. A piercer had a distinctly humanoid shape, yet its sole function was to kill at its master's bidding. In place of hands the creature has a single, long, tusk shaped claw, for which it has been named. The skin of the creature is extremely solid and resists heat and cold.

 

Jerrick finished dressing, put the package into his pocket and picked up Slicer.

 

"Come Olira!" - he said gently and taking her hand walked towards the front door. He held her back with a hand while he opened the door and took a look outside. He immediately closed the door though and backed away. It only took Olira a few seconds to find out why he had done this. Suddenly the door shook under the impact of a blow and the claw of a piercer swept through it in an arc.

 

"They are too big to get through the door." - Jerrick said, speaking fast, in a hushed whisper. - "But we still need to leave the building as soon as possible."

 

He ran to the back of the house, while blows kept falling on the entrance door. Olira followed him. Jerrick opened the kitchen window and looking out was relieved to see that there weren't any of the creatures here. He climbed out the window and then turning back helped Olira out. Around them, chaos could be seen in the small village. Jerrick's home was at the top of a small hill, and looking down he could see villagers running in different directions, trying to evade the piercers.

 

Holding Slicer in his right hand, Jerrick took Olira's hand with his other hand and they started running towards the forest. It took less than a minute for several of the creatures to spot them and give chase. With their nearly eight foot tall bodies the piercers moved surprisingly fast. Reaching the wall of a house Jerrick suddenly stopped and turned to face the close to dozen creatures chasing them. Olira saw a flame in his eyes, which she had not seen before.

 

The creatures slowed as they saw that they had cornered their prey. Jerrick lifted Slicer with his right hand high above his head. He could count eleven piercers within fifty meters of him and several more were approaching further away. They seemed to have lost interest in all the other villagers and were all coming at him.

 

"Stay at the wall!" - he said to Olira behind him.

 

Jerrick then started murmuring in a tongue unknown to Olira and as he did so Slicer started to glow, at first with a dim light, but steadily the light got stronger and in the end it lighted up the ground around Jerrick for several meters even. The piercers seemed to hesitate at seeing this, but then one of them leapt at Jerrick. Having anticipated the move Jerrick sidestepped and brought down Slicer at the fast moving creature. The momentum of the sword and the creature together were more than enough for the blade to slice clean through the arm of the piercer. Still using the momentum of his strike Jerrick turned and swung Slicer once again at the creature, this time severing off its head. The large body fell with a crash to the ground, and the head rolled back towards the other piercers.

 

A drop of thick black blood fell from Jerrick's blade, joining the small pool of blood already gathering around the dead creature. Jerrick turned back towards the remaining piercers and prepared for the next one. Yet the creatures did not move. They weren't used to being resisted. And they were even less used to being successfully resisted. They just stared at Jerrick and for several long seconds no one moved. But Jerrick could see that slowly the creatures were gathering their courage. He knew that soon several of them would move against him, and even Slicer would not save him then. He needed to act fast, and use his opponents' surprise to his advantage.

 

In a sudden motion he leapt at the piercer closest to him.

[Patrick]

Chapter 2

 

Jerrick swept in an arc with his sword cutting off the leg of one of the piercers attacking him. He ducked a blow, twisted his body so as to avoid another and then somersaulted back several feet avoiding one of the creatures, which had tried to jump on him, aiming to simply crush him with its weight. Already several piercers lay around him, dead or severely wounded, yet ever more moved towards him, aiming to attack him.

 

Once again Jerrick lept into the fray and wherever his sword went it left a path of destruction of severed limbs, deep cuts or decapitated corpses. The shrieks of pain of the creatures filled the night, yet they continued attacking him unrelentlessly. Jerrick was already wounded on several parts of his body, yet the wounds were only surface wounds.

 

In a rapid movement he completed the manoeuver he had been making and turned in a full circle, Slicer extended outwards. Completing the arc he put the tip of Slicer on the ground and watched the three piercers just next to him collapse to the ground, headless.

 

The remaining five piercers retreated back several feet. They now feared their opponent. Jerrick had already killed or seriously maimed more than a dozen of them. Yet they could not resist the command, nor could they resist the presence still near, which had them do its bidding. Cautiously they once again moved towards Jerrick who seemed to be already leaning on his sword, as if getting weary.

 

When the foremost piercer neared him Jerrick lifted his sword and then stumbled, falling to his knees. The piercer leapt at him with its large claws extended ahead of it, intending to impale Jerrick, yet Jerrick brought up his sword and the charging piercer impaled itself on it.

 

Jerrick whispered a few words and then rolled away from the falling body, with Slicer still inside the creature and jumped up. The five remaining creatures were rapidly advancing towards him, since they had seen that he had his sword no more.

 

Jerrick crouched down and drew two curved daggers from their sheaths in his belt. Again acting before the piercers reached him he jumped at one of them and while knocking the creature back a foot, with his weight against its chest he agilely climbed on top of its head. While the creature tried turning around and flailing with its arms Jerrick held on and in a moment of calm between two arm movements of the creature he planted both daggers inside the head of the creature, one from the right, one from the left.

 

The creature fell to the ground without another sound and buried both of Jerrick's legs under it. Struggling against the weight of the creature Jerrick did not notice the one approaching him from behind. He felt a sudden pain as one of the claws of the creature pierced his back low on the right hand side.

 

Jerrick cried out in pain and tried whirling round to face the creature, but the claw still in his back did not let him move. Then the other claw pierced him and the creature drew him out from under the dead piercer and lifted him high in the air. Unable to cope with the pain Jerrick blacked out.

[Quincunx]

My appreciation of the story jumped when Chapter Two was posted, as it shifted to immediate action and left behind the weakness of explaining everything in the first chapter. (I don't have a solution for that. Maybe, when the tale is longer, some of the exposition can be shortened, moved, or cut completely.) Here your short, sturdy sentences and paragraphs make this different than the majority of fight scenes I've read here; some are even fragments that must be fused to their previous sentence, which usually began with a connector such as "and" or "yet". I have no quibbles with the plots or the construction of the fight.

[Patrick]

Chapter 3

 

He had never expected to open his eyes again. He had expected to finally meat his forefathers again, but it seemed that the gods had more in mind for him.

 

When he opened his eyes he was lying on the ground, and the first thing he saw was the sun shining high above him. He tried to move his head, but as he did he felt a sharp pain erupt in his chest. He then remembered the events of the night. Had it been this night or had he been unconscious for longer? He heard a stream in the distance. There had been a stream next to the small village. Could it be that he was still there? What had happened to the piercers? He knew that they wouldn't have left him alive.

 

Moving his head a fraction of an inch each time he managed to turn around and survey his surroundings. He saw a tree to the left of him, and a hut, he sort of recognised to the right. Then he heard a voice from far to the left. A voice he had never expected to hear again.

 

"Olira!" - he tried to say, but the pain in his chest cut it in half.

 

"Shhh" - she whispered as she bent over him. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Don't talk, it will hurt you too much."

 

"Wha...What happened?" - he finally managed to say.

 

Olira stayed silent for several long moments, looking at Jerrick.

 

"I don't really now. The piercer had dropped you to the ground and then they turned on me. I think I started fainting, but then it seemed to me that I saw your sword attack the piercers. But that could not be, as when five minutes later I came back to my senses your sword was lying shattered on the ground, with a piercer lying on top of it. All of the piercers had however been killed by something."

 

Jerrick tried pushing himself up to his elbows but failed.

 

"Slicer? Shattered? No...." - he was beginning to be able to speak easier.

 

"Slicer?" - Olira asked.

 

"My sword." - was the explanation.

 

So what his father had told him was true. The sword did have an inner soul. Or at least it had. The ancient swordsmiths had indeed created a masterpiece. And now Slicer had sacrificed itself to save him. Would he ever be able to repay the ancient spirit?

 

***

 

"I have to go south." - he announced suddenly, two weeks later.

 

"Why?" - Olira asked. She had been dozing at his bedside.

 

"I don't ask of you to come with me, as I shall face many dangers, there where I am headed."

 

"I don't have anyone else but you. All my family were killed by the piercers."

 

A tear went down her cheek, and Jerrick realised that he had been thinking selfishly. He sat up and hugged her close, not thinking of the physical pain he caused himself with the act.

 

"I'm sorry Olira. I..." - he broke off, as Olira started sobbing loudly.

 

"Don't leave me Jerrick. You are the only one I have now." - she managed to say between sobs.

 

"I promise you that I won't."

 

He held her for several minutes, not thinking of Slicer, nor his people he had left so many years ago. All his thoughts were centered on Olira now.

[Patrick]

Chapter 4

 

Huddling from the thunderstorm in a small cave among the mountaineous regions two weeks travel south of the small village Jerrick looked at Olira, who exhausted from the day's walking had fallen asleep in his lap. Jerrick caressed her neck and Olira murmured softly in her sleep. He could have stayed the whole night like this watching her in the brief flashes of lightning, but he had something else to do.

 

Gently he put a hand under Olira's head and lifting it slid out from under her. He slid his pack under her head and laid it down. He checked to see whether she was still asleep and when satisfied walked outside into the storm.

 

The rain soaked him fully in less than a minute. The wind blew his shoulder-length hair behind him. Jerrick took out a small, oval shaped stone from an amulet around his neck.

 

"Calad i athrad!"

 

The amulet glowed faint blue, but did not have the effect Jerrick had been expecting. A massive bolt of lightning from the clouds above struck a cluster of trees on the hillside about five miles away. A large oak tree, maybe over a century old burst into flames, which started quickly dying out as the rain hit them.

 

Jerrick looked around unsure what he needed to do now. He had sent the signal, but he was unsure of what was going to happen now.

 

He waited fifteen minutes, then after nothing happened turned to go back towards the cave. The rain then suddenly got stronger and it was due to this that he did not hear the footsteps behind him.

 

----------°°°°°----------

 

"Olira! Wake up!" - the sun had risen on the far horizon and was slowly starting to dissipate the rain clouds. The storm had stopped and the rain was reduced to a mere drizzle.

 

Olira sat up, a sleepy expression on her face.

 

"Olira I would like you to meet Maqal Bazeplon."

 

A tall, dark haired man stood in the entrance to the cave. He nodded to Olira and then spoke to Jerrick fast, in a language which both of them seemed to understand, but was alien to Olira. Jerrick interrupted him.

 

"Maqal you can talk in the common tongue. I have nothing to hide from her."

 

"Jerrick, the events you have told me of last night are grave indeed. Piercers being used just against you. You must really be a thorn in their eye."

 

"Maqal you haven't heard all yet."

 

"What are you two talking about?" - Olira asked, a puzzled expression showing on her face.

 

"Olira, have you ever heard of the people known as the Kiriati?"

 

OOC: "Calad i athrad" is Sindarin for "light the way". Jerrick is not an elf, but I wanted to use a "mystical" language.

[Patrick]

OOC: I decided to radically change what plans I had had for the continuation of the story, because I got a much better idea.

 

 

Chapter 5

 

"No, I haven't heard of them...should I have?" - Olira replied with a puzzled expression on her face.

 

"Jerrick, we don't have time. The hunters have been unleashed and you know that they do not relent until they are destroyed or until they get their pray." - Maqal interrupted, before Jerrick had a chance to reply.

 

"Hunters?" - Olira asked, not able to follow the conversation between the two men.

 

"It is the name we have for the ones you call piercers." - Maqal said, before Jerrick could say the same thing. - "Jerrick, we need to flee from here. If you want her to come with us then be it, but we have to leave now."

 

Jerrick nodded, seeing the wisdom in his friend's words.

 

They left the road half an hour later, knowing that the piercers moved slightly slower on the forest paths they were planning on taking. Up until sunset they walked the small paths, which usually only the animals of the forest used. Just shortly before sunset they found a small clearing with a large oak tree in the middle of it. They made camp next to it. While Jerrick went off to catch some game for them to eat, Olira stayed alone with Maqal.

 

Not wanting to disturb the man, while he was making the fire, she busied herself with her own thoughts, sitting with her back against the oak tree. But then her attention was caught by the fireplace Maqal had prepared. He had only put large pieces of timber on it, no small pieces to be able to light the fire easier. Maqal noticed the direction of her gaze and laughed out softly.

 

"You think that I am doing it the wrong way, don't you?" - he chuckled softly, and then snapped his fingers close to the fire, and the fire started crackling merrily. Olira's mouth formed a silent 'o' but then she too started smiling. She had not suspected that Maqal was a mage. The sword at his side and his build were not those of a typical mage.

 

Soon Olira and Maqal started chatting, oblivious to the small forest sounds, which slowly started around them. It was thus that they did not hear the small sounds of twigs snapping around the clearing and did not see the dark shapes moving around them just inside the shadow of the trees.

 

Jerrick did however hear the sounds of the twigs snapping. Thinking he had at last found the game, which had evaded him for the last half hour, he readied his hunting knife. When he heard a twig snap right behind him he turned and jumped at what had first seemed to be a wild boar.

 

It was when Jerrick's scream pierced the night that Olira and Malaq realised that something was very wrong.

 

Malaq immediately jumped up and grabbed his sword in his right hand, while with his left he seemed to be caressing the blade. The blade started glowing firey red, as if it had been kept in the fire for several minutes.

 

After a word of command from Malaq, the fire rose higher and illuminated the whole clearing. However apart from the crackling of the flames no sound could be heard.

 

"JERRICK!" - Olira shouted in desperation, then felt Maqal's hand on her shoulder.

 

"Jerrick is dead. The hunters are here. I underestimated them. Jerrick underestimated them. He should have taken his sword with him when he went on the hunt."

 

Olira fell backwards towards the oak tree and it was only thanks to the tree that she didn't fall completely. The tree caught her, and she slowly started sliding towards the ground. But Maqal's hand pulled her up.

 

"There is no time for that Olira. They shall come for us any time. They have gotten their target now, but they never leave any witnesses. Take Jerrick's sword, even if you don't know how to use it, the sword shall do the work on it's own. It is a good blade."

 

Olira stood dazed as if still in shock, but eventually she started forming words again.

 

"Sword...broken."

 

"WHAT?" - Maqal's unbelieving shout pierced the darkness and planted more fear into Olira's heart than the piercers ever had before? A heavy silence followed the shout, as Maqal's eyes darkened and his expression changed, but after several long seconds he seemed to regain control over himself.

 

"Slicer broken? That is the worst news I have heard since many long years."

 

He put a hand on Olira's shoulder and Olira felt as if a strange presence were searching in her mind. Maqal withdrew his hand and scanned the clearing. The piercers haven't moved inside the circle of light yet. It meant that he had time for what he knew needed to be done.

 

"Listen Olira. You have been caught up in something you can not understand, and I don't have time to explain now. I myself would take up the shards of Slicer if I could, but the sword wasn't made for me, and thus would not bear me. You however were Jerrick's chosen companion. Slicer shall accept you. I am going to teleport you to..."

 

He paused for a moment as he saw the first dark shape emerge from among the trees on the southern side of the clearing. Just seconds later another let out a roar from the northern side. Maqal started talking faster.

 

"I am going to teleport you to Hinnra's Keep. Seek out old Killian there! Tell him I sent you and tell him about Jerrick and Slicer! He'll know what to do. Take Slicer now! Quick!"

 

The first piercer reached the fire and simply walked through it. Maqal pointed at the creature's head and murmured a spell. A white hot blast of fire erupted from his fingertips and decapitated the creature, leaving only a smoldering, headless corpse. The second piercer approached from the other side and Maqal gave it the same treatment.

 

Then getting a moment of breathing space, he took Olira's hand and shouted out the spell this time.

 

The last thing Olira saw before she was swept away by the magical energies were dozens of piercers approaching from every side, and the small figure of Maqal standing in the midst of them, aiming to kill as many as he could before falling.

 

Then all went black as the world folded around her, and she passed out.

[Patrick]

Chapter 6

 

 

"The sword-wielder is dead, Master."

 

"Show me his body."

 

The tall, lean man kneeling in front of the throne motioned to servants behind him, who rushed out and a minute later came back in carrying a body. Jerrick's body.

 

"You may stand Erfalag."

 

"Yes Master."

 

The man, who had so far been sitting on the throne stood up and walked over to the body. He took only one glance at the body.

 

"I see you did not fail me again Erfalag. The first time was quite a bad mess up on your part." - the pale faced man held a long pause, letting Erfalag sweat. His servants needed to know that he never showed mercy. Erfalag had been severely punished for his failure and it was only thanks to his present success that he was still alive.

 

"He had a mage with him, but we got the two of them seperately Master."

 

"A mage...interesting. Who was this mage?"

 

Erfalag snapped a finger and the servants brought in the other body.

 

Erfalag's master did not move at first to inspect the body. He just looked at Erfalag. His red eyes, stood out from the whiteness of his face and burnt Erfalag's eyes whenever he looked at his undead master. Unable to bear the stare anymore Erfalag bowed his head.

 

"You are hiding something from me Erfalag."

 

"I would never dream of..."

 

Sawax simply put up a hand to stop Erfalag's protest.

 

"I can see it in your eyes."

 

Erfalag started trembling.

 

"I see..." - Sawax said solemnly. "So you do not have the sword. It seems that I shall have to send someone to get the sword. Unfortunately for you it shall not be you."

 

Erfalag fell to his knees and tried starting to plead with his master, but to no avail. Sawax simply lifted a finger and Erfalag fell to the ground dead.

 

Sawax lifted a bony finger and indicated the servants remove Erfalag's body.

 

Being a lich had some advantages to it. Sawax had been born over four thousand years ago, but then dissatisfied with the short length of the human life-span he decided to lengthen it. The price, of needing to give up his humanity had not bothered him a bit.

 

If only killing one of the Kiriati were as simple as killing that bungling Erfalag. - he thought to himself as he walked over to the mage's body Erfalag had brought. And what a pleasant surprise met him when he saw the familiar face...

Edited May 31, 2005 by Patrick Durham