Damiynn
Fantasy Author
Ok took some advice and did a little rewriting on this and was looking for some feedback. I think its close to being the whole first chapter
Chapter 1
I pushed back the left side of my knitted coat revealing the cross draw rig slung low, cavalry style, on my hip. The reversed holster and curved butt end of the pistol glinted, reflecting the street lamps.
Briefly I considered whether I should pull out the large iron but decided against it. I knew the man holed up here. This part of Denver was not as rich as some, but it also wasn’t on the frontier. It was well enough to do that it had lights and I didn’t want to have to listen to my boss chew my ass out again about drawing my weapon when I didn’t need to, I could already hear his gruff speech in my head. “Discretion Marshal Mollon, this isn’t Dodge City or Deadwood.”
“Minor,” I called out in a loud, friendly sounding voice, “this isn’t worth the fight you’re going to get if you keep this up. Why don’t you just toss out your weapons and surrender.”
Nothing came forth from the old house that had seen better days. Then a heavy clanking followed by a rattle that sounded like someone tripping over a pot bellied stove and had knocked off something.
“Isss that you Marshal Mollon?” called out a voice near one of the broken window panes. “Iiis not going anywhere, Iiis did nothing wrong.”
I shook my head in exasperation, hearing the slurred words.
"Them men’s, Marshall, they had it coming. Theyy needed someone to ssshut their mouths, they were speaking bad to the ladiesss.”
I turned, looking back to the two local lawmen, who had asked me to accompany them, pushed back the brim of my hat and said jovially, “He claims he did nothing wrong gentlemen.”
The two locals shook their heads disbelievingly. The older one said, “He killed some of those he claimed he did nothing to Marshal. He cut four within inches of their lives with a rune blade.”
The second lawman’s eyes glowed hotly and I saw his fingers tighten around his pistol grip. Apparently the men who had been killed must have been acquaintances of his.
“He also killed one,” growled the second lawman, “with magic, he did. Turned him to ash with an electrical glyph and he’s refusing to lower his defenses so that we can arrest him. It ain’t right him defying the law that way.”
“And all of the witnesses said it was self defense Officer Payton,” put in the first lawman with a pointed look at his partner that caused him to slowly remove his hand from his sidearm.
“One of these cops says you did, Minor, one says you didn’t. Why don’t I come up there and we’ll talk about it, gentlemanly like?”
“Iiis don’t know, Jamiah, I mean Marshall..”
I turned to the more sensible local lawman, “You said you had witnesses?”
“Yes, Marshall, they all said he did no wrong and was provoked into defending himself.”
Turning back to the old house I shouted, “I believe we should, Minor. I need to hear your side. One officer here believes the witnesses. I want to be able to convince the second, before he shoots you or puts you in front of a magical killing squad. I’m coming up.
“M..Marshal, I’ss don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ss don’t want any harm to come to you.”
Ignoring the comment, and the stares from the two locals, I started up the walk. As I reached the edge of porch I felt them. Several strong wards flared to life. Power radiated from them in a pulsing wave. It should have repelled me, or at least knocked me back onto the sidewalk, if it could have touched me. A ripple of silver light flashed from the five pointed Marshal’s star on my chest and like oil sliding over water, the wards magic passed around me.
Their power was a testament to Minor’s past life. A life before he had fallen apart becoming what he was now.
Not sure what kind of glyphs Minor might have drawn on the door, and being that glyphs were stronger than wards, I gathered my magic and sent out a faint trickle of power. As my magical senses began tracing the door, several white hot lights burst to life on the surface. I saw one for fire and another for electricity, then they faded away.
I opened the door and carefully stepped inside.
Minor’s life had changed when his wife and children had died. Alcohol and bad decisions had crushed the will and motivation of a man who had once been one of the best traders and creators of magical trinkets in the Colorado territory.
Several months worth of dirt and left over food remains covered the wooden floor. Ripped leather covered the chairs, and I found myself wondering as I looked at the jagged cuts if Minor had acquired some sort of pet. A shag carpet lay on the floor and for the life of me, through the dirt, I couldn’t tell what color it was supposed to be.
Minor’s once opulent attire now looked like the worn out rags that a street hobo would wear. His black luxurious hair was streaked with grey and hung lank and listless over his haggard looking face. His large and powerfully built body had become emaciated, it looked like something had been eating away at him from the inside. Cold light emanated from one of his hands and I assumed it had to be the rune knife.
The scent of blood filled the air with a sickly metallic smell, and suddenly afraid I looked about for a corpse or a sacrifice. I saw nothing of the sort, all I saw was Minor and he didn’t look at all like the man I had seen the last time we had met.
Something else was also wrong with the room, velour curtains covered the windows, but they were open. The street lamps outside barely lit the interior, a room that I sensed shouldn’t have been so dark.
I sent out a faint trickle of magic again and the hairs on the back of my neck curled tight. I felt a sense, a sense of …
Hell No!
The words crossed my brain before I could stop them. It’s impossible. My hand snaked out, wrapping about the handle of my peacemaker. It was out of its holster before I registered the movement and leveled in Minor’s direction. Reaching out tentatively with my senses, I poked about the room. I did not need my magic to make contact with what I sensed was there, I already knew what it was.
The silver star on my chest had protected me from Minor’s earlier wards and glyphs but no man, not even myself was immune to what I knew Minor was clutching in his white knuckled fist.
Damn, I cursed silently, God Damn! “Minor,” I said carefully and calmly, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice, “please put the knife down, it’s dangerous.”
As if on cue, Minor lifted the knife into view and I stared at it transfixed, awed almost. It shouldn’t have existed, at least not anymore.
The black ruby gracing the hilt of the dagger seemed to glitter with an icy cold, looking just like its creator’s eyes. Tobias was going to hate this. I could hear my boss’s growling voice in my mind. “Dang it Marshall Mollon, I thought you finished this last time.”
The stone on the dagger had once been red like all rubies, but because of the blood magic it had been changed. It held a part of its maker’s soul inside of it and that bit determined the color of the stone. It also gave the dagger a sentient awareness. I didn’t have to see the crucifix etched into the face of the stone to know who had made it, I had killed its maker. This type of stone slowly changed its wielder, first subconsciously, then consciously. The dagger’s hilt was iron and engraved with ancient blood runes that glowed with a slight reddish light, again revealing the blood magic. Silvered steel formed the eight inch long serrated blade that was always used over time for blood sacrifices.
Chapter 1
I pushed back the left side of my knitted coat revealing the cross draw rig slung low, cavalry style, on my hip. The reversed holster and curved butt end of the pistol glinted, reflecting the street lamps.
Briefly I considered whether I should pull out the large iron but decided against it. I knew the man holed up here. This part of Denver was not as rich as some, but it also wasn’t on the frontier. It was well enough to do that it had lights and I didn’t want to have to listen to my boss chew my ass out again about drawing my weapon when I didn’t need to, I could already hear his gruff speech in my head. “Discretion Marshal Mollon, this isn’t Dodge City or Deadwood.”
“Minor,” I called out in a loud, friendly sounding voice, “this isn’t worth the fight you’re going to get if you keep this up. Why don’t you just toss out your weapons and surrender.”
Nothing came forth from the old house that had seen better days. Then a heavy clanking followed by a rattle that sounded like someone tripping over a pot bellied stove and had knocked off something.
“Isss that you Marshal Mollon?” called out a voice near one of the broken window panes. “Iiis not going anywhere, Iiis did nothing wrong.”
I shook my head in exasperation, hearing the slurred words.
"Them men’s, Marshall, they had it coming. Theyy needed someone to ssshut their mouths, they were speaking bad to the ladiesss.”
I turned, looking back to the two local lawmen, who had asked me to accompany them, pushed back the brim of my hat and said jovially, “He claims he did nothing wrong gentlemen.”
The two locals shook their heads disbelievingly. The older one said, “He killed some of those he claimed he did nothing to Marshal. He cut four within inches of their lives with a rune blade.”
The second lawman’s eyes glowed hotly and I saw his fingers tighten around his pistol grip. Apparently the men who had been killed must have been acquaintances of his.
“He also killed one,” growled the second lawman, “with magic, he did. Turned him to ash with an electrical glyph and he’s refusing to lower his defenses so that we can arrest him. It ain’t right him defying the law that way.”
“And all of the witnesses said it was self defense Officer Payton,” put in the first lawman with a pointed look at his partner that caused him to slowly remove his hand from his sidearm.
“One of these cops says you did, Minor, one says you didn’t. Why don’t I come up there and we’ll talk about it, gentlemanly like?”
“Iiis don’t know, Jamiah, I mean Marshall..”
I turned to the more sensible local lawman, “You said you had witnesses?”
“Yes, Marshall, they all said he did no wrong and was provoked into defending himself.”
Turning back to the old house I shouted, “I believe we should, Minor. I need to hear your side. One officer here believes the witnesses. I want to be able to convince the second, before he shoots you or puts you in front of a magical killing squad. I’m coming up.
“M..Marshal, I’ss don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’ss don’t want any harm to come to you.”
Ignoring the comment, and the stares from the two locals, I started up the walk. As I reached the edge of porch I felt them. Several strong wards flared to life. Power radiated from them in a pulsing wave. It should have repelled me, or at least knocked me back onto the sidewalk, if it could have touched me. A ripple of silver light flashed from the five pointed Marshal’s star on my chest and like oil sliding over water, the wards magic passed around me.
Their power was a testament to Minor’s past life. A life before he had fallen apart becoming what he was now.
Not sure what kind of glyphs Minor might have drawn on the door, and being that glyphs were stronger than wards, I gathered my magic and sent out a faint trickle of power. As my magical senses began tracing the door, several white hot lights burst to life on the surface. I saw one for fire and another for electricity, then they faded away.
I opened the door and carefully stepped inside.
Minor’s life had changed when his wife and children had died. Alcohol and bad decisions had crushed the will and motivation of a man who had once been one of the best traders and creators of magical trinkets in the Colorado territory.
Several months worth of dirt and left over food remains covered the wooden floor. Ripped leather covered the chairs, and I found myself wondering as I looked at the jagged cuts if Minor had acquired some sort of pet. A shag carpet lay on the floor and for the life of me, through the dirt, I couldn’t tell what color it was supposed to be.
Minor’s once opulent attire now looked like the worn out rags that a street hobo would wear. His black luxurious hair was streaked with grey and hung lank and listless over his haggard looking face. His large and powerfully built body had become emaciated, it looked like something had been eating away at him from the inside. Cold light emanated from one of his hands and I assumed it had to be the rune knife.
The scent of blood filled the air with a sickly metallic smell, and suddenly afraid I looked about for a corpse or a sacrifice. I saw nothing of the sort, all I saw was Minor and he didn’t look at all like the man I had seen the last time we had met.
Something else was also wrong with the room, velour curtains covered the windows, but they were open. The street lamps outside barely lit the interior, a room that I sensed shouldn’t have been so dark.
I sent out a faint trickle of magic again and the hairs on the back of my neck curled tight. I felt a sense, a sense of …
Hell No!
The words crossed my brain before I could stop them. It’s impossible. My hand snaked out, wrapping about the handle of my peacemaker. It was out of its holster before I registered the movement and leveled in Minor’s direction. Reaching out tentatively with my senses, I poked about the room. I did not need my magic to make contact with what I sensed was there, I already knew what it was.
The silver star on my chest had protected me from Minor’s earlier wards and glyphs but no man, not even myself was immune to what I knew Minor was clutching in his white knuckled fist.
Damn, I cursed silently, God Damn! “Minor,” I said carefully and calmly, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice, “please put the knife down, it’s dangerous.”
As if on cue, Minor lifted the knife into view and I stared at it transfixed, awed almost. It shouldn’t have existed, at least not anymore.
The black ruby gracing the hilt of the dagger seemed to glitter with an icy cold, looking just like its creator’s eyes. Tobias was going to hate this. I could hear my boss’s growling voice in my mind. “Dang it Marshall Mollon, I thought you finished this last time.”
The stone on the dagger had once been red like all rubies, but because of the blood magic it had been changed. It held a part of its maker’s soul inside of it and that bit determined the color of the stone. It also gave the dagger a sentient awareness. I didn’t have to see the crucifix etched into the face of the stone to know who had made it, I had killed its maker. This type of stone slowly changed its wielder, first subconsciously, then consciously. The dagger’s hilt was iron and engraved with ancient blood runes that glowed with a slight reddish light, again revealing the blood magic. Silvered steel formed the eight inch long serrated blade that was always used over time for blood sacrifices.
