Damiynn
Fantasy Author
I want to make sure the tension and as I call it, the lead up to, for what occurs after I stop sounds right for the coming fight.
A smoking crater filled the spot where Damien had stood. Cyadine was filled with all of the creational power that he could manage, he couldn’t draw on any more, but knew that he didn’t need to as he walked confidently over to the edge of the pit. Carefully he peered down over the top, looking inside. He wasn’t about to forget Tiko’s first rule of war, never underestimate your enemy.
Damien lay at the bottom of the crater in a crumpled collapsed mass, sprawled out and to Cyadine’s eyes appeared unconscious. The royal wizard and advisor judged from the way his leg was unnaturally bent that it was broken and that now, finally this upstart student was completely at his mercy.
The ex battlemage savored his moment of victory, his usually deadly cold blue eyes were bright with excitement and fervor. His masters prophecy had been fulfilled and it meant that the time of the banishment was over. It also meant that now that Damien Daverge could be killed and no one would care.
It had been a long time since he had been so adequately challenged, thought the royal wizard. Not since the last time he had defeated one of his master’s students twenty years ago. Cyadine smiled a cool thin smile, tapping a long elegant finger against his lips thoughtfully, contemplating the boy’s fate lying below him.
“This was now the second of Tiko’s students that he had beaten and defeated.” he thought silently, a satisfactory feeling filled him for a moment as he reveled in his victory.
A warning crept into his mind and he knew that he couldn’t have done it just through fighting and not without the use of the creation magic sword that he had to employ against the boy because of the ring. Without that and the knowledge that he had gained from his new master, he might have been defeated. Knowing that, he had to finish this. Cyadine began molding and shaping the power of the force lines and magic that he had called to him.
Damien stirred feebly and his eyelids fluttered open. Raising his eyes, he stared up into Cyadine’s cold face above him. A look of cold cruelty and an odd look of pleasure had twisted the wizard’s features. As he met Damien’s look he raised two purefire filled fist high over his head and prepared to cast a spell that would incinerate him.
“Enough!” called out an unexpected sing songy voice with an atrocious accent from the darkness. The voice spoke such power that it crackled and reverberated about the room, startling both of the men.
“Your fight Cyadine Syndell is not with him, you know that, it is with me, it has always been with me and I am the one that you really want.”
Cyadine’s icy gaze raised and narrowed into catlike slits and he ceased spell casting. Allowing his magic to dissipate, he looked at the intruder moving into his chambers with the grace of flowing silk. A slow smile spread across his face as he said in a voice that sounded like a snake’s hiss. “Master!” There was only two people in his life that he ever gave that title too.
Damien had regained enough consciousness to hear the conversation going on above. He spun his body around as best he could and tried looking upwards out of the pit in an attempt to see the other man in the room because he too, like Cyadine, had recognized the sing songy voice.
Trakiko Matsuri stepped out of the blackness of the adjoining room wearing an outfit that Damien had never seen and was shocked by the sight of it. Gone was the battlemasters usually brightly embroidered kimono’s with their elaborate dragons, flowers or butterfly’s that he traditionally wore. Instead he had replaced them with a black silk one that was the color of dark night and trimmed in gold around its edges and collar that identified the battle master as a battlemage. On each of the voluminous sleeves were five golden slashes identifying him as a master of the highest fifth order, a battlemage rank that only a few men ever achieved or were even awarded.
Damien had always wondered whether or not Tiko had any real spell casting ability. He knew that the old battle master could cast some minor spells but he had never seen him cast any sort of major spells. Instead he had left that task to the instructors in the classes and had always described what he wanted and had made Damien do his own magic himself.
Cyadine snapped to a rigid posture of attention, clapped his hands together in a battlemages salute, right fist inside of left hand and bowed his head. Damien noticed immediately that the depth of the royal advisor’s bow was just a shade above insolence towards Tiko who had for six years also served as his instructor. Tiko too snapped to attention and acknowledged the bow with a tilt of his own head exactly matching Cyadine’s in depth and perception.
A sinister smile crept across Cyadine’s face as he held a hand over the pit where Damien lay crumpled and spoke a sharp word of command. Tiko’s fighting staff on the ground at Damien’s feet sailed upwards out of the rubble into the advisor’s hand.
Spinning the deadly ironwood staff in his hands in a blur, he looked down at Damien’s battered and broken form lying at the bottom of the pit with a malevolent sneer on his cold face.
“You do realize that this should have been mine.” he said eyeing Damien contemptuously, “Way before it ever became yours, third student!” Cyadine then turned his haughty gaze towards Tiko saying, “I see that you came through my personal study on your way, did you see the trophy hanging on the wall over the fireplace?”
Damien saw something then that he had never seen before. An emotional shadow passed over Tiko’s wizened face and his hazel eyes blazed with an angry fire. Damien knew from his reaction that the old battlemaster had indeed seen whatever was on the wall of the royal advisors study.
Cyadine nonchalantly tossed the iron wood staff across the room to Tiko who deftly snatched it out of the air with a wizened hand. Speaking a quick word of command Cyadine again held out his hand. Damien couldn’t exactly see what was going on above him. Gritting his teeth against the sharp shards of pain that shot through his leg and gasping loudly, he pulled his body over to the pit wall. Once he had his shoulders in place, he shakily raised himself up onto his elbows, just high enough to where he could see both men.
A red staff of oak with mace heads at its ends came soaring out of the study and flew directly into Cyadine’s outstretched long fingered hand. Gripping it, he caressed the cool wood with almost a lover’s touch. Stroking a long finger along its length he said in a pleased sounding voice as he grinned maliciously at Tiko, “I took this off of Colin’s dead body only a few weeks after his leaving the academy. Then I turned him into a Golath using the magic that you forbid me to use.”
Damien gasped at hearing the name, recognizing it instantly. Colin was Tiko’s other student who had died during the assassination of his parents. He had died in a magical battle against an unknown opponent in a desperate attempt to save the king and queen. He also was the previous royal advisor to the throne and crown before Cyadine and who he had fought and defeated as a Golath while in the Godshall recovering the Dragon rings.
For a long drawn out moment the old Esian stared at the other man who had once been his student and who he had also considered like a son and said solemnly in a tired voice that seemed to bear weight of his age. “You shame me Cyadine!”
For a brief moment anger flared hot in Cyadine’s blue eyes at the words, then the royal advisor’s expression changed to one of cold serenity.
“Fitting don’t you think,” Cyadine asked, fixing Tiko with an amused look, “that I should use this same staff as a weapon to defeat you as I have done with all of your other students. I remember when the academy expelled me and stripped off my robes for only doing the things that you had taught and trained me to do. I had been found lacking in character and had been judged, but it seems that the only people who I found lacking are your own dead students or those that soon will be.” He directed a pointed look in Damien’s direction.
With a scream of pure rage or anguish, Damien couldn’t tell which, Tiko threw himself at Cyadine in an attack of blinding speed. He moved so fast that he was almost an invisible blur. The royal advisor was ready, and his words had their desired intention. Not caught unaware, he met the attack in a blur of motion of his own that matched the ancient battlemaster in speed and fluidity of movement.
A smoking crater filled the spot where Damien had stood. Cyadine was filled with all of the creational power that he could manage, he couldn’t draw on any more, but knew that he didn’t need to as he walked confidently over to the edge of the pit. Carefully he peered down over the top, looking inside. He wasn’t about to forget Tiko’s first rule of war, never underestimate your enemy.
Damien lay at the bottom of the crater in a crumpled collapsed mass, sprawled out and to Cyadine’s eyes appeared unconscious. The royal wizard and advisor judged from the way his leg was unnaturally bent that it was broken and that now, finally this upstart student was completely at his mercy.
The ex battlemage savored his moment of victory, his usually deadly cold blue eyes were bright with excitement and fervor. His masters prophecy had been fulfilled and it meant that the time of the banishment was over. It also meant that now that Damien Daverge could be killed and no one would care.
It had been a long time since he had been so adequately challenged, thought the royal wizard. Not since the last time he had defeated one of his master’s students twenty years ago. Cyadine smiled a cool thin smile, tapping a long elegant finger against his lips thoughtfully, contemplating the boy’s fate lying below him.
“This was now the second of Tiko’s students that he had beaten and defeated.” he thought silently, a satisfactory feeling filled him for a moment as he reveled in his victory.
A warning crept into his mind and he knew that he couldn’t have done it just through fighting and not without the use of the creation magic sword that he had to employ against the boy because of the ring. Without that and the knowledge that he had gained from his new master, he might have been defeated. Knowing that, he had to finish this. Cyadine began molding and shaping the power of the force lines and magic that he had called to him.
Damien stirred feebly and his eyelids fluttered open. Raising his eyes, he stared up into Cyadine’s cold face above him. A look of cold cruelty and an odd look of pleasure had twisted the wizard’s features. As he met Damien’s look he raised two purefire filled fist high over his head and prepared to cast a spell that would incinerate him.
“Enough!” called out an unexpected sing songy voice with an atrocious accent from the darkness. The voice spoke such power that it crackled and reverberated about the room, startling both of the men.
“Your fight Cyadine Syndell is not with him, you know that, it is with me, it has always been with me and I am the one that you really want.”
Cyadine’s icy gaze raised and narrowed into catlike slits and he ceased spell casting. Allowing his magic to dissipate, he looked at the intruder moving into his chambers with the grace of flowing silk. A slow smile spread across his face as he said in a voice that sounded like a snake’s hiss. “Master!” There was only two people in his life that he ever gave that title too.
Damien had regained enough consciousness to hear the conversation going on above. He spun his body around as best he could and tried looking upwards out of the pit in an attempt to see the other man in the room because he too, like Cyadine, had recognized the sing songy voice.
Trakiko Matsuri stepped out of the blackness of the adjoining room wearing an outfit that Damien had never seen and was shocked by the sight of it. Gone was the battlemasters usually brightly embroidered kimono’s with their elaborate dragons, flowers or butterfly’s that he traditionally wore. Instead he had replaced them with a black silk one that was the color of dark night and trimmed in gold around its edges and collar that identified the battle master as a battlemage. On each of the voluminous sleeves were five golden slashes identifying him as a master of the highest fifth order, a battlemage rank that only a few men ever achieved or were even awarded.
Damien had always wondered whether or not Tiko had any real spell casting ability. He knew that the old battle master could cast some minor spells but he had never seen him cast any sort of major spells. Instead he had left that task to the instructors in the classes and had always described what he wanted and had made Damien do his own magic himself.
Cyadine snapped to a rigid posture of attention, clapped his hands together in a battlemages salute, right fist inside of left hand and bowed his head. Damien noticed immediately that the depth of the royal advisor’s bow was just a shade above insolence towards Tiko who had for six years also served as his instructor. Tiko too snapped to attention and acknowledged the bow with a tilt of his own head exactly matching Cyadine’s in depth and perception.
A sinister smile crept across Cyadine’s face as he held a hand over the pit where Damien lay crumpled and spoke a sharp word of command. Tiko’s fighting staff on the ground at Damien’s feet sailed upwards out of the rubble into the advisor’s hand.
Spinning the deadly ironwood staff in his hands in a blur, he looked down at Damien’s battered and broken form lying at the bottom of the pit with a malevolent sneer on his cold face.
“You do realize that this should have been mine.” he said eyeing Damien contemptuously, “Way before it ever became yours, third student!” Cyadine then turned his haughty gaze towards Tiko saying, “I see that you came through my personal study on your way, did you see the trophy hanging on the wall over the fireplace?”
Damien saw something then that he had never seen before. An emotional shadow passed over Tiko’s wizened face and his hazel eyes blazed with an angry fire. Damien knew from his reaction that the old battlemaster had indeed seen whatever was on the wall of the royal advisors study.
Cyadine nonchalantly tossed the iron wood staff across the room to Tiko who deftly snatched it out of the air with a wizened hand. Speaking a quick word of command Cyadine again held out his hand. Damien couldn’t exactly see what was going on above him. Gritting his teeth against the sharp shards of pain that shot through his leg and gasping loudly, he pulled his body over to the pit wall. Once he had his shoulders in place, he shakily raised himself up onto his elbows, just high enough to where he could see both men.
A red staff of oak with mace heads at its ends came soaring out of the study and flew directly into Cyadine’s outstretched long fingered hand. Gripping it, he caressed the cool wood with almost a lover’s touch. Stroking a long finger along its length he said in a pleased sounding voice as he grinned maliciously at Tiko, “I took this off of Colin’s dead body only a few weeks after his leaving the academy. Then I turned him into a Golath using the magic that you forbid me to use.”
Damien gasped at hearing the name, recognizing it instantly. Colin was Tiko’s other student who had died during the assassination of his parents. He had died in a magical battle against an unknown opponent in a desperate attempt to save the king and queen. He also was the previous royal advisor to the throne and crown before Cyadine and who he had fought and defeated as a Golath while in the Godshall recovering the Dragon rings.
For a long drawn out moment the old Esian stared at the other man who had once been his student and who he had also considered like a son and said solemnly in a tired voice that seemed to bear weight of his age. “You shame me Cyadine!”
For a brief moment anger flared hot in Cyadine’s blue eyes at the words, then the royal advisor’s expression changed to one of cold serenity.
“Fitting don’t you think,” Cyadine asked, fixing Tiko with an amused look, “that I should use this same staff as a weapon to defeat you as I have done with all of your other students. I remember when the academy expelled me and stripped off my robes for only doing the things that you had taught and trained me to do. I had been found lacking in character and had been judged, but it seems that the only people who I found lacking are your own dead students or those that soon will be.” He directed a pointed look in Damien’s direction.
With a scream of pure rage or anguish, Damien couldn’t tell which, Tiko threw himself at Cyadine in an attack of blinding speed. He moved so fast that he was almost an invisible blur. The royal advisor was ready, and his words had their desired intention. Not caught unaware, he met the attack in a blur of motion of his own that matched the ancient battlemaster in speed and fluidity of movement.
