Magika [Completed]

Chapter 19

Aldeheid sucked in a breath and held it in his chest until it burned. His hand drifted to the pouch of ether stones on his belt, but he balled it into a fist before he could reach in and grab one. The darkness around him was so absolute that he had to press his back against a tree to ground himself in reality.

This must be what death feels like. Never-ending. Suffocating. Darkness. He'd have to ask the next time he saw his old pal.

Even the creatures of the night dared not disturb the silence. His heartbeat and breathing were the only things present to assure him he hadn't gone deaf. He placed his hand on the pommel of his sword, feeling out the intricate details of the lion's head.

Kitaya was somewhere above him, surveying the area from the canopy. Although Aldeheid had no idea how she could see through this mess. They'd found the bandit's base moments ago, a wood and thatch contraption that looked as though it would collapse at the drop of a feather. After circling around the clearing three times, they doubled-back so Kitaya could survey it from above.

Whoever that magician was, wherever he came from, he couldn't belong to a Bastion. Tormenting the humans was strictly forbidden by the people of Magika who'd made earth realm their home. And as such, it was their responsibility to make sure their people were kept in line.

A soft thump reached his ears as Kitaya came down from the tree. "We're going to split up, angel eyes," she said, her voice low. "I don't see the magician anywhere, but there are a few bandits lingering about. You go in from the south. I'll go east."

Aldeheid, took her arm before she could turn and go. "Be careful Kitaya. We don't know how strong that magician is, and you're still injured."

"Same goes for you." She patted his hand and pounded off into the darkness.

He rounded the tree and moved towards his only guiding light – the faint glow of a candle coming from inside the hideout. His light jog crunched the leaves under his feet and allowed him to eat up the distance quickly. When he came within a few feet of the structure, he ducked deeper into the treeline and skirted it until he reached the eastern side.

Assess first, angel eyes, Kitaya had told him. He peeked around the tree and saw three men standing outside, under the glow of a torch. They were unarmed, leaning against the building and chugging cups of what was probably ale. Stolen ale.

Aldeheid sucked in a breath and wrapped his hand around the handle of his sword. The darkness absorbed the blade's hiss as he pulled it free from the scabbard, the astral ore appearing black against the night.

He grit his teeth to stomp down his rising fear and leapt from the shadows. It took but a second to close the distance between him and the bandits. By the time they realized what was happening, he'd already driven the pommel of his sword into the nearest skull with such force, that it caved in on impact.

He whirled around and slashed the throat of another while grabbing the third around the neck with his arm. The human struggled against him like a fragile insect caught in a spider's web. But one twist of his arm and all that ceased.

Aldeheid loosened his grip and let the body fall. When he killed capes, it was unintentional and left him aching and filled with remorse.

But not this.

When he thought of those villagers, the terrified looks on their faces as the bandits ransacked their homes, remorse fled him like a startled deer. That magician was next.

Aldeheid flicked the blood from his blade and trudged into the building. The floorboards groaned and bent as he stepped inside.

The single candle by the door had the room awash in a soft glow. Dirty plates and bowls were on the centered wooden table and a pot hung over a pit of smoldering ashes in the corner. Shelves upon shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of spices, preserved fruit and tea leaves. Sacks of grain were piled high next to dozens of barrels, and baskets laden with fresh fruit and vegetables hung from the rafters.