《The Lives of Velnin》


 The Black Citadels End

    I was 17 years old when I died for the first time.


    I parried the guard''s cut, feinted high, then swung Swerfalster, blade of the fallen star, low for a slash at his unarmored thigh. I scored, a line of blood dripping down his leg, and danced back before his counterstroke landed.


    He favored his leg, his footwork suddenly awkward, but his swordplay still top notch. I danced in and out of his range, circled towards his weak side, exploited his poor movement. I went for a slash for his strong side, pulled in my sword as I jumped for his weak side, then brought up my blade to slice his neck before he could bring his sword to bear. He fell as blood spurted from his carotid artery.


    It was then I felt the blade pierce my abdomen from the back, running clean through to poke out of my guts. A second guard had remained hidden, and my dance had put me in the perfect position for his backstab.


    I jumped forward over the dead body of the first guard. The blade pulled out of my back with a wet squelching sound, and my adrenaline still blocked the pain even as blood spurted from my wound. I spun around and brought my blade, Swelfalster, to bear.


    There was no time for the sweet art of swordplay; I would bleed out and collapse shortly. I repeated the same attack I''d done on the first guard, a high feint into a slash to the thigh, but this time, telegraphed my blow, bringing Swelfalster down from above two-handed with a whistling arc. As expected, the second guard anticipated and blocked it, and I brought down my blade crosswise to his with all my might, and sliced through.


    In his moment of shock at his broken blade, I continued Swelfalster''s arc around my body and upward. My sword sang as it swung towards his unprotected head. He brought his blade up to block, but not far enough, not yet adjusted to its shortened length. Swelfalster cleaved his skull, and he fell.


    All was quiet. I dropped the blade, suddenly aware of my injury. As I gripped my bleeding wounds to staunch the flow of blood, Aloree''s head popped out of the vent.


    "All clear?" she asked, then saw the blood dripping down my leg and grew pale.


    "A deathblow," I said softly, and kicked my fallen blade towards her. "Take it, take the escape glider, and live. Find my brother."


    Aloree was no fighter, but her spirit was strong, and she trusted me without question. She took Swelfalster, opened the emergency closet, and broke the glass on the glider housing with one swift blow of the sword.


    A pull of a lever and the glider unfurled for her. She sheathed my sword in one of the compartments, lay face forward in the housing, and prepared to launch.


    "Goodbye, Velwin, my love," she said as she kicked off to fly to safety.


    Veldin paused the playback and turned to speak to his retainers. "A girl--Aloree--she is to be found and given every assistance." He described her image from the recording. "Bring us together as soon as possible." He turned back and continued the playback.


    Aloree was out. Time to sell my last moments of life as dearly as I could.


    I let go of my wounds and took up the guards''s swords, one in each hand. I strode to the mana core and examined the conduits plugged to it. Then I turned away, raised my two swords, and sliced downward, one sword into the output line, one into the positive feedback terminal. A chakra art stiffened my arms and swordgrips as mana flowed through me, searing my heart with its power.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    I knelt, head bent forward, hoping my body would shield my brain long enough to do what must be done, hoping my brain would live long enough, my heart burned and no longer pumping. I saw a guard rush in from the stair below, sword upraised, racing to bring it down upon my skull. He was too late.


    The world turned white with a flash that seared my retinas, and a jolt of thunder and searing heat hit my back. I felt my body go flying. My life flashed before my eyes as my brain went into overdrive to write these, my dying words.


    Let''s back up.


    <hr>


    I had awoken that morning to torture. My handler heated the needles under my fingernails, lashed me with with a whip, and poured water on my rag-covered face as I was tied to a board, blindfolded.


    "Tell me her true name. Tell me, and this will all stop."


    I didn''t moan, beg, or cry. I didn''t say a single word. Perhaps my calm unnerved him, because he soon gave up in disgust.


    Then came the next stage--boredom. I was left, hands manacled, to stare at a blank white wall, nothing in my cell but a hard white bench to sit upon. White noise played loudly, drowning out any thoughts and any pretense of speech. Next, I knew, would come the good cop act, the one who promised to get me out of here, reason with my torturers, if only I would tell them. I had heard it all before. I hadn''t broken yet, so why did they repeat this act, day after day?


    I sat nonchalantly on the bench, outwardly slumped and unmoving, inwardly coiled to spring and awaiting a chance. A guard on patrol occasionally passed my cell, club wrapped in barbed wire in hand. Every quarter of an hour, he would make his report.


    I knew each guard and his shift well. The first walked a precise line, well out of reach of the bars. The second carried his club in his left, and circled the cells clockwise, giving me no opportunity. The third... he liked to swing his club back and forth by its leather strap, boredly swinging it in one hand or the other. This one now came, and I watched out of the corner of my eye as he began to swing the club--I knew this time, too close.


    I sprang silently as the club approached the bars. My manacled hands grabbed, pulled. My legs braced against the bars and I straightened them as the guard snapped towards me, pulled by the strap fastened round his wrist, and his skull crunched into the wall of bars. I jerked back toward him and hit him precisely in the neck as he fell, assuring his unconsciousness. I grabbed at his pockets. No keys.


    I knew I had but little time before the guard was due to report in. I quickly unwrapped the barbed wire from around the club, and hoped my dexterity with locks would serve in time.


    I torqued the lock on my manacles with one barb, pushed a pin with another, and they snapped open. The door got the same treatment, but its tumblers and pins were more complex. Listening to the mechanism, opening it by feel from the other side of the bars, I eventually set the last pin and turned it. I pushed my cell door open, and I was out. One minute gone.


    I ran out of my cell and looked around. I found Aloree one door down from my cell. Had they put her so close, hoping to break her with my screams? I was glad I had been stoic.


    Working from the correct side, her door unlocked faster. She ran to me and kissed me with her hands still manacled. I pulled away and snapped the manacles off, and her arms went around me.


    "There''s no time," I said, "We must escape."


    We ran out of her cell and searched around. The fools had left our possessions, including my sword Swelfalster, in a storage locker that popped open with barely a pin set. The cells were empty but for our two, and there was but one exit: a door which no doubt led to more guards. I considered my odds of taking them all down sword in hand and escaping the direct way, but did not like them, not with a girl to save.


    I pointed up, above our cells: a ceiling vent. I threw the club and sword above the cell and clambered up the bars. Aloree followed behind.


    The vent was 12 feet above us, out of reach.


    I tied one end of the barbed wire to the club, one to my sword, and flung the blade upward. Swelfalster stabbed its way between the vanes of the vent, and I gave the club a mighty yank. The vent popped off. I tied some loops in the barbed wire and repeated my sword fling, this time with a bit of a twist to it to arc the sword point down as it flew into the vent. It managed to bite into the metal and catch on something, and I clambered up the wire, loop by loop.


    Aloree stood on the club below. I looped the wire around my sword hilt and pulled her up inch by inch. As her hands reached the vent and I took her hand and begin to pull upwards, the door to the cell block flew open.


    "Stop!" rang an order from the crossbow-wielding guards now entering, "or we fire!"


    A crossbow bolt whistled past Aloree''s legs as I pulled her in. We scrambled onward into the blackness of the vent.

 The Walls of the Black Citadel

    The vent was three feet tall, and dark. Aloree crawled on ahead of me. I followed behind, my sword Swelfalster in my right, the club in my left, barbed wire wrapped around them both and dangling between them.


    "We must follow the air currents," I said, "and turn towards the wind. The vents will widen closer to the source."


    A few seconds later, the air flow cut off. "NOW they turn it off? It''s worse than when someone takes the last piece of bread just as you get hungry for another!" Aloree said. Soon, she stopped. "I''m at a junction. Left and right feel the same. Which way to go?"


    "We''ll just have to pick. Right!"


    She crawled on and I followed. After what felt like moments, but must have been minutes, she stopped once more. "There''s a drop ahead of me. What to do?"


    I hacked off a piece of the barbed wire with the blade of Swelfalster, and tossed it forward. It was slightly more than half a second between the it rolling off the edge and clinking below. "It should be a shallow drop. Lower yourself down."


    There was a clank as Aloree''s feet hit bottom, and a bit of clanging as she poked around. "There are no openings big enough to get through. It''s worse than cheese trying to squeeze through a cheesecloth!"


    "Nothing for it, we have to turn around. Grab my hand." I put my weapons aside and lowered my hands, softly drumming on the side of the vent to help her figure out where to grab. She got my right, I grabbed her hand with my left, and I pulled her up as she clambered up the vent side.


    Now I took the lead as we clambered through the vent, pushing Swelfalster and the club ahead of me, hoping we had not lost enough time for the guards to get a ladder and follow. As we clanked our way through the vent, I saw our time was up--light shone on the wall at the junction ahead of us, becoming brighter and brighter.


    I raised a hand to signal Aloree to stop, hoping she could see it in the backlighting, then crept up to the junction as quietly as I could, Swelfalster at the ready. It wasn''t too long before the guard''s head popped into a junction. One quick thrust of my blade into his skull, and it was over.


    I quickly poked my head into the junction. No guard behind him, but a light further down. The dead guard held a loaded crossbow in his right and a glowing orb in his left. I put down my blade and my club and took these, and rolled the orb to Aloree. The light lit up her golden hair like fire ringing the sun. "Put it out," I whispered urgently.


    Aloree''s face scrunched up in a look of concentration--or constipation, perhaps--and the light winked out. I held the crossbow at the ready, peering over the dead guard''s corpse at the approaching light. Just as the next guard came into view, I let fly at his head and scored a bolt through his eye. He groaned, then stopped moving.


    "Light again, please." The light winked back on, and I detached the barbed wire from my club and my sword. Making a few quick incisions in the side of the vent with Swelfalster, I wound the barbed wire all around the tunnel the guard had come through, stuffing it around his body and into slits in each of the vent walls, hoping to make a barrier that would persuade any future comers that we were someone else''s problem. I stuffed my sword and club in my belt, left the empty crossbow, and crawled onward, happy to now have a source of light from the beautiful girl following behind me.


    A few turns later, the vent widened, and we were able to stand. We broke into our fastest speedwalk, keeping as much stealth as we could without losing speed. We ignored all the side branches, and after a while, came to a central chamber with a ladder.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "The higher we go, the further an escape glider will take us," I commented. In my copious scouting prior to our capture, consisting largely of getting former guards and workers of the Black Citadel drunk whenever I encountered one in a tavern, I had learned that they used the same emergency-escape system as we used back home: gliders to fly out upon in all the higher rooms of the tower in case of magical assault upon the tower base. The gliders could double as fast-attack craft to get the drop on any unwary sleeping besiegers during the night.


    Aloree stuffed the glowing orb into the cleavage of her top. "After you, my love."


    I began my climb. Aloree followed behind. Just then the airflow returned, this time with the force of a hurricane. The noise drowned out any attempt at conversation. I raised my hand to the next rung and struggled upwards against the intense wind. Aloree, shielded from the winds by my body and seeing my struggles, gave me a push by my rump. I grinned at the familiar contact and pushed onward.


    Rung after rung we climbed against the gale. Push after push on my rear, until I no longer thrilled at the contact but thought at the bruises I would have on my backside and the aches I felt in my arms. Eventually we neared the top and my eyes peered over the edge. A windmaker lay before me, blowing air into my eyeballs with a force that made me squint. The large cylindrical tube was covered in glowing, pulsing runes.


    I held onto a rung with my left and pulled out Swelfalster with my right, gripping the hilt of the sword as hard as I could, knowing if it blew out of my hand, our chance was lost. I swung it up, over, and around, and the blade bit into the runes. Mana sparked from the tube and into the sword, and the winds finally died down. I clambered over the edge and gave it a few more hacks.


    Aloree joined me at the top as I surveyed the dead windmaker and pondered which way to go. I recalled the bragging of a drunken artificer in a tavern of the source of the Black Citadel''s production advantages: a mana core far superior to the limited mana collectors used in other kingdoms, that would output mana limited only by its control circuit, rather than capping out at the limit of the ambient mana found in the high-up winds. Perhaps he had been in earnest, for surely no mere collector could have powered the strength of this windmaker.


    Looking around the edges of the windmaker, I saw a mana conduit, and pointed. "We''ll follow this line to its source. If we take down their power, they''ll be in enough confusion that we might succeed at getting away, even during daylight."


    We proceeded, taking one of the side passages on the landing, and came to a vent. Peering through it I saw a guard, and raised a hand to signal Aloree to stop. At a moment he appeared distracted, I leapt out, and began my fateful combat.


    I''m sure you remember how it came out. I killed him, got a deathblow from his hidden companion, finished off the second guard, sent Aloree off on the escape glider, blew the mana core, and died. Perhaps the near-limitless mana supply has something to do with the disappearing magic-users, and the attempts to torture Aloree''s true name out of me. Perhaps it''s how they powered the thing.


    My brother, if my dying words reach you amidst the mana flash from the core explosion, rescue Aloree. Help her however you can, for I have given her my life. Let''s go back a little further.


    <hr>


    It is the custom of our family to send our princes on dangerous missions. If we die, well, our brothers will learn from our dying words. If we live, we''ll be properly blooded. Either way, we''ll better understand the sacrifices made by those under our rule.


    It was my first mission out of our borders, and it seemed simple enough. Enter the territory controlled by the Black Citadel, disguised as a wandering trader, and learn all I could. Figure out how the place had become so powerful, so quickly. Buy people drinks, offer trades, perhaps drop one of my letters of introduction on local artisans who may control promising magitech, and attempt to recruit them for our side.


    As I walked down the road to the next town, I sighted ahead of the next crest of the hill a wagon... and another to its left, and another to its right. A cloud of dust above showed vigorous activity. I stepped into the woods and made my way closer, out of sight.


    As I approached it was more and more obvious that the circle of wagons before me was under attack. Still I remained unseen in the trees. I watched for hidden sentries, and crept closer. I saw a man atop a hill standing before the circle, shouting orders to his underlings.


    Two of his underlings were returning from the wagons dragging a beautiful girl with golden hair, screaming her head off. They had wide grins on their faces as they brought her to him. No, I thought, this just won''t do. I rushed out of the woods at the leader, my sword held two-handed.

 The wagon train

    The two thugs continued pulling the screaming girl to their leader as I rushed out of the woods, Swelfalster held two-handed. The two underlings dropped the girl and gave a shout, and the leader began to turn... too late. I swung the blade towards his unprotected neck in a mighty slash, and his helmeted head dropped to the ground.


    The two underlings drew daggers, and as I recovered from my backswing, one got close enough to thrust a dirk through my leather tunic. My armor filled with blood. He didn''t retreat fast enough, and my sword returned in time to slash his abdomen open, cut his spine. He fell.


    The second was more cautious. He danced out of my range, readied his dagger for a throw, bided his moment. My blood continued to drip down the side of my tunic, and I knew I would soon weaken.


    At this moment, a party sallied forth from the wagons and yelled a battle cry. My assailant turned his head to this, and I dashed forward and exploited his distraction. A chop to his wrist, and his knife hand was off. One thrust to the heart later, he was down.


    The wagon war party begin to charge the remaining brigands, who, leaderless, were routed and taking flight, disappearing into the woods. I looked at the girl I had saved, still lying on the floor where she had been dropped, in a daze. "Looks like it''s come out all right," I said to her, then fell over, the blood loss finally taking its toll. The world went dark.


    I awoke to the sound of a crackling fire and the feeling of a bandage around my torso and warm sheets around my body. Opening my eye a crack, I saw the stars above. Listening, I heard the sounds of a peaceful camp. I risked opening my eyes further and scanned with my eyes from left to right. On the left, the inside of the circle of wagons, my shadow upon the nearest. On the right, the campfire, and next to it, the girl, golden hair aglow in the firelight, looking directly at me and starting at seeing my eyes move. Caught! But probably safe.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Thank you for saving me," she said, then bent towards me to kiss me on the cheek. As she lifted her head I lifted mine and gave her a return cheek-kiss, and the white skin of her cheeks turned beet red.


    "Thank you for bandaging me," I said. "It was you, right?"


    Her cheeks flushed red once more. She nodded. "I bandaged the wound and used some healing magic, but you lost a lot of blood. You need to drink something." At this she leapt up and raced to the wagon next to us. She rummaged in the wagon a while, looking a bit flummoxed, and returned with a skin which she held to my lips. "Drink."


    I drank, took a breath, drank some more. "The wagon master wanted to talk to you. I''ll get him," she said as I finished my second drink. I thought fast. I needed more background information before I said anything.


    "Throat hurts still," I said, suddenly hoarse. "First, your name?" I asked, and did my best to look interested in her and a little bit infatuated. It wasn''t difficult--she was beautiful.


    Distraction successful. Her name was Aloree, and she was a diplomat, from the kingdom of Talore. She was traveling to the capital, the Black Citadel, with a delegation from her kingdom, including traders, artisans, and performers, hoping to open ties with the newly emerging power. I wondered at a teenage girl commissioned to diplomacy, but held my tongue, remembering I wasn''t supposed to be ready to talk much. She talked more in a musical voice, talking about her day, the attack on the wagons, and how I looked as I ran out of the woods, slashing my sword at the leader. There was a thrill in her voice at this. Finally, she stopped, and looked at me expectantly.


    "My things?" I asked, keeping my voice hoarse. She nodded towards the wagon. My mind raced through the usual things one can ask a girl without using too many words, but my time was up. A tall man with a scarred face and jet-black hair stood up on the other side of the wagon circle, motioned to two swordwielding guards, and walked over to us, flanked by them. Darn. Her motion had gotten their attention.


    The man towered over me, my body still lying flat in the bed. "First, tell me what you were doing with the brigands," he said with a grim expression.


    I quickly saw it from his perspective. Unknown swordsman, shows up during brigand attack, probably a brigand. I was outnumbered three men to one and two swords to zero, still weak from blood loss, and knew my next words, if not chosen carefully, would get my throat slit.