The First Advocate: Hellsending

[aidyn grey]

Yah, I'm actually going to post my story. Writing is a long process, and after ch5, the posting may be a bit slow. With no further ado


Prologue

The Shadow Griever looked at the rapidly approaching town of Ciritel, a snarl of distaste forming on its thin lips.

“So many wastes of earth and water,” it growled, “but all of them will get what they deserve when the Thirteenth is re-awoken.” With that thought the snarl changed to a malicious grin, revealing sharply pointed teeth.

The Griever pulled down the hood of his voluminous navy cloak to lift its head slightly and sniff the air. Its black cat-like eyes rolled up into the back of its head and an in-human screech spit the air.

“The Malevolent ones are already here!” it howled indignantly. Its fellow Griever rode up next to it, blood red robes trailing an hitting its horses flanks.

“The Shaman is here as well, “ it hissed loudly over the clatter of hooves on the worn stone path.

The two dark creatures continued riding towards the large city, their mission set firmly in their minds.

The Blue Griever shuddered as they passed over the large stone bridge over the Rhianon River and into Ciritel. They had to kill the Malevolent ones. He knew that he and the Red would already be in trouble for not have been there waiting to kill the Malevolents when they arrived.

They slowed down after entering the town, and separated, scouring and weaving throughout the town. They tracked by the smell of twisted magic, which began to intensify so that the Grievers were able to narrow down the source.

Their tracking eventually led them to an inn, The Golden Lyre, where the stink of pure magic almost burned their thin slit-like nostrils. They dismounted and tied their horses to a fence that surrounded the building. Both put of the cowls of their cloaks to hide their pasty white complexions from view.

With the Red following, the Blue stepped into the in, the noise of his soft leather boots echoing unnaturally loudly. The common room was cramped, and a fog of pipe smoke floated glowing ominously by the light of the large fireplace at the far end of the room. The Blue walked toward the innkeeper, a fat man with a thick tangle of dark hair, wearing a spotless white apron, and hiding his action beneath his many layers of robes, unsheathed a thin sword with a handle shaped elegantly into the likeness of ocean spray and which matched the color of his cloak.

A grin split the Griever’s face, anticipation twitching within him as the fat man stepped forward cheerfully. The blade slid lightning quick from beneath the Griever’s robes and pierced the man’s chest and slit quickly downward.

The Shadow Griever’s eyes lit up with a sick glee as the man’s hot blood splattered him. He turned to the people sitting in the common room and his insane glee took him. Men stood to face him, but their weak arms and swords could only block a few hits of the blue sword before falling prey to the cold midnight steel’s bite.

Before the Blue knew it, he had no victims left, and was covered in the blood of twelve men, four women, and a child whom he had mangled too badly to recognize as male or female. He could feel the Red Shadow Griever’s glare on his back, and turned panting, his delight fading.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” it said in a voice that would have frozen the bravest of men in his tracks.

“You may have alerted the Malevolent ones of our presence. We
don’t yet know the extent of their powers, and shouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“You’re beginning to sound like the mistress. No reason to stay here and talk, let us finish this.”

They proceeded up the oak staircase leaving the carnage behind them. The reek of magic led them to a room where the twist of magic almost burned their skin. The Blue slid his sword between the blockade bar. He kicked open the door and strode in with the Red on his heels.

Suddenly an unfamiliar voice behind them shouted, “Cistam oner En’id!”

The Blue screeched as a tongue of flame wreathed his body. Despite his desperate flailing, he could not stop the purposeful searing.

A very young man and woman stood in the doorway holding two hands, and pointing the other two that the Blue.

With one last indignant screech, he bounded on all fours the nearest shadow and dove in, disappearing.

The young man repeated the words, directing his hand at the Red. The Enid Flame leapt from his outstretched palm toward the remaining Griever.

“I won’t be as easily warded off young ones.” He saidquietly as he batted the fire away as one would a pesky mosquito. He opened his hand toward the two and made a rising motion. The man two were lifted off the ground and suspended in the air. The Red Griever pulled out his thick blood red sword with a hilt shaped like a dragons head, and eyed them hungrily.

The griever was about to strike when it gasped and yelled before sinking into the shadow. The young man and woman fell to the oak floor with two resounding thumps.

[aidyn grey]

Chapter 1


Rames picked up a handful of triple A batteries and lifted them over his head saying, “Let’s kick it up a notch… BAM!” and threw them into the pot of boiling water and various other ingredients.

He heard a song playing on the radio that he liked and made his way across the neat sunlit kitchen to turn up the volume. He returned to the large pot and, coordinating any noises he made and his movements to the music, and continued adding ingredients.

“Just a spoonful of quicksilver makes the batteries go down, the batteries go doo-ww-nn, the batteries go down, in the most delightful way. And to finish it off, a handful of lemon zest.” He threw in a handful of ground lemon rind and stepped back. The contents of the pot made a small explosion and a plume of plaid smoke.

I always do get the strangest colors…oh well, he thought, brushing a few strands of sloppy brown hair out of his eyes. He stepped forward and cleared the smoke from above the pot and began ciphering the liquid from the pot into several small bottles.

When he finished his task he pulled a list out of his pocket and put a check next to the words silencing potion. He read through his short list making sure that he hadn’t missed anything.

“Warding potions, cleaning solution, plant growth potion, binding potion, and silencing, that’ll do it.

Rames’ parents were out of town on a second honeymoon, which left Rames home alone for a week. He had been taking advantage of the time alone and the warm early summer days to restock his potions, magical possessions, and practice magic, which he rarely had a chance to do.

Might as well re-ward the place while I have time…he thought. He headed out of the kitchen, carrying bottles, vials, and cordials filled with multicolored liquids and took them up the smooth mahogany staircase. He turned left and into his room, and dropped his armload of potions onto his bed and sat down next to them. For several minutes he looked at his room, studying the blue carpet, windows that opened onto a small balcony, and posters of various music artists and TV show characters.

Slowly Rames stood up, and closed his eyes and immersed himself in the serenity. He opened his eyes to see everything exactly the same, except a network of translucent red, blue, green, brown, and yellow threads were crisscrossing the room.

He mentally grabbed several yellow threads of Spirit, and green threads of Air and channeled them through his right hand. The threads pulsated as they exited his hand and crept to the corners and up the walls of the room where they settled and disappeared with a slight flash. Rames let go of the magic after the spell had settled, slightly disappointed, the feeling of channeling magic was hard to let go of, it was exhilarating no matter how many times you did it.

He made his way around the house, reinforcing wardings that hid his magical goings on.

Rames rested on the couch for about half an hour before heading outside to reinforce the huge binding around the property. He got to the back door and realized how was wearing only his boxers, so he ran upstairs to put on a pair of sweatpants.

As he began walking to the door, a flicker of movement caught the corner of his eye. Rames peered out of his window and saw several shadows flowing sinuously across the large lawn.

He swiftly grabbed three bottles of freshly brewed silencing potion and bounded down the stairs and out of the front door.

As he ran outside into the bright summer air, a cold feeling pulsated through his veins making him shiver despite the warmth. Annoyance with himself, rather than fear presided in him as three bodiless shadows began circling around him. He opened himself to the grid of magic around him, and threw a potion into the air and wrapped a thread of Air around it to hold it immobile.

The small bottle hung in the thickened air for a moment before rocketing into the sky. A screech containing such force that it knocked Rames down to his knees emanated from the sky, before it was quickly muffled by the effect of the potion.

“Yep, Exumars,” he muttered before throwing his second potion. With a soft thump, something landed behind him as another scream of rage was quickly muffled high in the air. A noise like the roaring of one thousand lions issued as Rames turned, his annoyance with himself gaining force, as he was knocked backwards and soared through the air.

How could I fall for such a simple trap? He demanded of himself as he lashed out mentally to manipulate the threads of Air around him to slow his fall. Before he landed, he sent the last bottle of silencer flying with such force that the glass shattered and bored several holes into the Exumar’s chest. Rames took the chance as the Exumar howled and was silenced to study his attacker.

Rames gasped when he realized what he saw, a Rocroar. It stood once and half again as tall as Rames, who stood 5”10 himself, and it was a vague semblance of a human body gone horribly askew. It had a small chest and torso in comparison with it’s long thick arms and legs, which were great masses of corded muscle, covered in lustrous silver scales.

It’s fellows had fled, their most devastating weapons silenced, and not wanting to face a fully qualified Brother-Practitioner.

The Exumar suddenly spread two monstrous wings, veined with thick cords under the membrane and launched itself at Rames, a silver blur of slavering tooth and claw.

Rames channeled a particularly thick thread of Air through his outspread right hand and entangled the Exumar in a weave of frozen air. It would be a strain to hold it for long, but if lucky, he wouldn’t have to.

The Exumar struggled in it’s invisible bindings, long thick whip-like tail thrashing. It writhed in terror as Rames stepped forward, continuing to thicken the air around the beast until it could do little more than blink and twitch.

“Remember me,” Rames said in a deadly whisper into the Exumar’s bat-like ear. With that he began channeling threads of fire and spirit into his left index finger, with which he traced a six pointed star onto it’s already bleeding chest. Where his finger touched scale or flesh, a red light burned and seared purposefully leaving a reminding mark.

The Exumar twitched violently, tears looking misplaced on the horrible bestial face leaked out of its wide dull eyes.

“Now go, and remember,” Rames said, releasing it of it’s bindings. It leapt and flew away hurriedly.

Rames sat down solidly under a towering oak, thinking that it was a good thing that he lived several miles out of town.

He was amazed at how tired he felt, and realized that it was using Fire and Spirit which had taken the largest toll on him.

“I’m not using magic for a month,” He said bitterly as fresh waves of exhaustion overtook him. He saw a thick silver disk on the ground next to him, and he stuffed it into his pocket.

“Stupid physical tolls, and I still have a huge warding to set. Of course, if I’d done the smart thing and set that one first, the Exumars wouldn’t have sensed the magic through it, and I wouldn’t be ready to pull a Rip Van Winkle.”

For several minutes he just sat in the shade of the large oak, recuperating. Finally he got up shakily, bracing himself on the tree.

Sage will want to hear about this, some of the potions are for her anyway, he thought, and walked into the house unsteadily. He came out a moment later with a shirt and shoes on, and bearing a handful of green potions.

He got into his car and started it, and began heading toward town.

Something must be happening, the Rocroar Exumars haven’t been in these parts for hundreds of years. Rames continued thinking as he drove the few miles to Cherubs Hollow, the small town he lived near.

Cherubs Hollow was a small, neat town where everybody knew everybody, nobody knew whose business was whose, and the definition of normal was open to interpretation. Being raised in Cherubs Hollow gave you a one in two chance of being slightly eccentric.

Rames drove down the North main street. Four main streets made the large square that was the center of the town. Small neat shops lined the right side of the street, while trees , statues, and shrubs of the park in the center of the streets lined the other.

He stopped and got out in front of a small shop with a sign reading Sage and Thyme Greenhouse. Small real ivy climbed the letters of he sign and front of the building, casting a green tinge to the shop. He stepped in, and as a reflex, grabbed the small bell that rang when the door opened to stop it from chiming.

His footsteps thudded dully on the grass that grew across the floor inside. He silently shut the door and turned around to meet the gaze of a woman of about thirty. She smiled and moved a piece of slightly curled red hair out of her almost unnaturally blue eyes.

“It’s about time you got here, I’ve needed those plant growth potions for several days. Is this the thanks I get for healing you after your run in with that horde of lurchs? That horde is a particularly nasty one
though isn’t it…” She trailed off, losing her train of thought.

“Anywho, you’re standing too strait, what’s wrong?” She watched his shocked expression with relish, he still didn’t know his own mannerisms.

“Wait a moment,” she said putting a hand up to stop him from speaking. She pulled the blinds down over the large window in the door and checked through the ivy covered windows to see that nobody was nearby.

“Ok, shoot,” She said, making herself comfortable on a seat covered with growing things.

“Well, I was putting up some wardings and I attracted some Exumars…what Sage?” She was looking at him shaking her head with a smile.

“How is it that you attract all the dark creatures within a fifty mile radius, yet you still cant attract yourself a girlfriend?” Sage had made fun of Rames for the last three years, since he was thirteen, for not having a girlfriend, knowing that he was too busy with work, school, and Practitioning.

He frowned at her and continued, unperturbed by her interruption.
“Anyways, I think one of the Rocroar colonies has migrated this way.”

“What?” She asked sharply, “Rocroar Exumars can’t survive here. How sure are you that they were Rocroars?”

“Pretty sure, I brought one of the scales,” He pulled out a thick silver scale, being careful not to touch the razor-like edge. She snatched it out of his hands, and studied it flipping it from side to side. She stood up and bustled around the store, gathering dried plants, herbs, and a small stone bowl.

She crumbled the plants into the bowl and added sap from one of the vines growing up a wall. After a few moments of sloshing it about in the bowl, she poured the mixture onto the large scale and muttered a several short strings of syllables. Sage gasped and dropped the scale and whispered, “God help us.”

[GangsterGargomon]

Dude you ROCK!! I love your stories! They are the bomb. Did you ever finish posting The Rift? I don't know if you did because I haven't been on the board for forever. Is this story related to The Rift at all? The word "exumar" sounds familiar. But anyway awesome job.

[aidyn grey]

Thanks. But no, it isn't related to The Rift. I never finished it because I realized that I hadn't thought things through enough. I coudn't stand to get rid of some of the creatures and characters from it though, so they magically carried over to this one. There are pages upon pages of notes and drawings of creatures, mechanics of magic, items, characters and so on for this story. Hopefully I will finish this one

[aidyn grey]

Chapter 2

Sage recovered quickly and stooped down to pick up the scale and wipe the herb mixture off of the floor with a napkin from her back jeans pocket. For several moments she puttered around the shop muttering curses under her breath. Suddenly she turned to Rames and said, “You should go. Now. Watch yourself, and pay attention to local superstition.” Rames found himself being pushed out of the front door before he could ask any questions. He turned to walk back into the store and recoiled as an unseen force hit him in the stomach.
“Damn it, she Bound me out again,” he growled to himself as he spun on his heel and stalked off. Someday Sage, I’ll figure out how to break your frigging Bindings, I swear it, he said viciously to himself.
He stayed in town for a few hours, browsing stores, sitting in the park, and just walking around before he readied himself to go home. When he returned to his car, a streak of orange flashed in his peripheral vision. He turned his head sharply, but saw nothing, so he got into his car warily and drove home.

* * *

Sage hurried Rames out of the door. She slammed it closed behind him and muttered three short harsh syllables and hit the door with her palm. It turned momentarily iridescent then stood normally as before. She looked out of the heavily ivy covered window on her right and saw Rames recoil from her Binding and walk off angrily.
“I hope that fool girl of his thinks to dress warm,” she said shaking her head, and walked deeper into her store.
* * *

Rames swore before he pulled into the driveway in front of his house. His parents were home two days early.
He saw a set of Exumar tracks a few feet away. He looked around before twisting a few small threads of Earth to smooth the marks over. His attention elsewhere, he slowly walked into the house.
His parents sat at the island in the center of the kitchen, both looking troubled. From her seat, Rames’ mother said in grave tones, “Rames, we need to talk.” So he walked tentatively into the kitchen.
His father beckoned to a pile of odd bottles and packs with labels like quicksilver, star-reign, and powdered wolvesbane.
“Explain.” For a moment Rames stood quietly, tired of this routine.
“I’m a practitioner.” he said simply and quietly. He leaned against the doorframe and caused several sparks to appear and dance from finger to finger in increasingly complicated patterns, idly watching the residue light of the patterns flicker in and out of his vision.
“You’re a sorcerer, aren’t you?” his mother said shakily, her eyes magnetized to the prancing sparks.
“We’ve been through this before,” Rames said mostly to himself, “I’m not a sorcerer, I’m a practitioner, there’s a big difference. I would love to tell you the differences, but as it is, I have a call to make.”
He smiled and opened himself to the surrounding magic, and wrapped thin cords of Air around his parents and left them frozen where they sat.
“I’m sorry, but it is better this way.” He said truthfully, averting his gaze from the looks of sheer on his parents’ faces.
He walked up the stairs and into his room. He stood straight and addressed his reflection in the full-sized mirror hanging on the wall.
“I need a mod-squad now.” For a moment nothing happened, but suddenly his reflection grinned at him.
“Told em’ again, have you?”
“Come on, just go, now!” Rames replied sternly. His reflection rolled it’s eyes, stuck out it’s tongue and walked out of the frame.
Rames laid down on his bed with his right arm covering his eyes. Like clockwork, ever since he had become fully qualified, at least once a month he did something to cause his parents to become aware of his goings on. He sometimes wished that he had not declined the offer to have his powers bound those five long years ago, but could any eleven year old deny the ability to shake the earth, levitate objects across a room, or cause fires with a mere thought?
Five years ago, only two weeks after Rames’ eleventh birthday, a tornado hit his home town. Rames’ parents had been out on business, both worked for the same law firm and were working on a case in northern Connecticut, and his big sister had been spending the night with a friend.
He remembered oh so vividly, the dull crocus yellow light pounding its way stubbornly through thick angrily roiling clouds before the thick pillar of half solidified air materialized. He had watched fascinated, when a bolt of furious lightning split the sky and downed a large pine, one of whose branches knocked Rames down and out.
When he came to, he was pinned to the earth, and the funnel of air was roaring toward him. His wild fear was replaced by a feeling of sadness as he felt something settle into him. He could feel, sense the air swirling before him, as it was straining against some unseen force that was controlling it against it’s will. The pillar of wind enveloped him, but it’s dense swirling mass seemed to move to avoid him.
He stood and looked around after the furious gales threw the tree that pinned him away. The circle of grass around him about five feet in diameter stood untouched. A similar circle of unmarked ground and trees stood around his untouched house. He looked up and saw all signs of the storm gone from the sky, and warm yellow light flooding the earth with a feeling of calmness and serenity seeming to permeate the air.
He felt suddenly drained, and passed out. The next thing he knew he was being carried through a shining clear and silver hallway by a large unfamiliar man. He once more slipped out of consciousness and awoke in the middle of a room, surrounded by strangers, who bluntly began telling him about his abilities.
Rames’ attention snapped back to the present as the air around his mirror shimmered, and two young men, and one old man walked out of the shivering silver surface.
“Ah, my favorite customer,” said the old man as he stepped forward and clapped his strong gnarled hand on Rames’ left shoulder. “So, is it the regulars today, or does it involve the neighbors again?” he laughed, rubbing his hands together.
“Good to see you too Dallas. Have some new cronies I see.” Rames gestured to the two young men behind Dallas. Twins. Blonde hair, bluish-gray eyes, tall, and powerfully built. From somewhere in the Carolinas, unless he sensed wrong.
The old man grinned wickedly. “Old man Bates and Trent both needed a…let’s call it a vacation. These two yahoos are filling in for them, this is Alex, and Philip, can’t tell them apart yet though.
“Anyway, back to business, where are they?”
“In the kitchen, oh and some of your favorite soda is in the fridge, lower shelf with a class T-2 illusion hiding them.
The old man’s grin broadened.
“You knew I’d be coming soon didn’t you? I can’t complain though, if it weren’t for little spazes like yourself I’d be out of business.”
Dallas headed downstairs, head shaking and twins following sulkily.
Rames waited in his room, having seen enough memory modifications to suit his liking. After about ten minutes Dallas, Alex, and Philip came back upstairs, the twins still sulky, and Dallas looking pleased.
“They will be a bit dazed until about seven PM in two days. We’ve changed their memories so they think that their original flight didn’t get changed and they got to finish their little honeymoon. So, they won’t remember anything of the next couple of days.”
“Thanks Dallas, see you at the next meeting.”
Dallas raised his can of root beer in ‘cheers’ and stepped through the mirror, flanked by his surly assistants.
Rames looked out of his window and saw that the sun was sinking self satisfied to It’s reprieve on the other side of the world, leaving an array of brilliantly luminescent clouds in it’s stead. He slipped out of his room and walked halfway down the stairs. Both of his parents were sitting on the couch in the living room, dopey smiles plastered on their faces, eyes focusing somewhere else, somewhere unseen.
Sighing, Rames crept silently down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchen. He made a sandwich, grabbed a soda, and went back upstairs to eat, and fall asleep