A Soft Chime

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Xekai pored over the map he had in front of him. There were four marks on the map; one in four of the six nations- Vicleta, Pon, Triquetria, Zaran, Natshkazak, and Karceni. Each nation had its own ruler and had remained independent from the others, besides Zaran, which ruled Vicleta for ten years. There were marks in Natshkazak, Pon, Karceni, and here in Triquetria. Each one was an artifact known as a Spirit Blade, a sword by the legendary blacksmith, Leets Firehands in the Age of Heroes, a millennium ago. Each blade, if the legends were true, was cooled in the blood of one of the old gods. Xekai knew this wasn't true. Leets had used a necromancer to enchant the blades with a spirit of a great warrior from even more ages past. He had seen the creation of those blades and orchestrated the theft of the most powerful, Deathbringer.

He caressed the sword at his hip, running his pale fingers over the hilt. Its blade was long, elegant, curved slightly to allow a cleaner cut with less force applied and pitch black, black as absolute midnight and the sea between the stars. Etched upon its surface was a pattern of arrows all crossed and a single red tassel dangled from the pommel. A black hand grasped a large emerald as if about to crush it. The hilt was plain black but twisting to form the pommel claw's arm and wrist and the guard was a similar claw that reached down to clutch Xekai's hand protectively, tips painted a vibrant red.

This one, Deathbringer, had been the model for those blades- Firebane, Flowing Stream, Windscythe, and Shattered Earth. Deathbringer was Nox's weapon, stolen away a millennium ago and placed in the realm of mortals. The touch of the smooth metal on his skin used to send shivers of power through his body, wanting him to use it for slaying of many, many things, but he would not. He tried to stop his killing before, but he never could. A creature like him was born to kill, driven for the simple cessation of life, the last gasping breath from a torn throat, the final convulsion of a corpse once living. He had been created for the ending of lives, not the giving.

He sighed looking away from the map and striding towards the exit of the old church. Long abandoned, the temple stood silent to its one patron, Modeista, god of life. Xekai chuckled once. How ironic that him, a creature of death, took shelter in the shadow of the life god. He looked around before writing in tight neat script, "I am in town, find me if I do not return by sunset," and slipped out.

Syrena and Khirs would be out gathering supplies or in town- a small borderline village on the western border of Triquetria by the name of Reistoffhaven. It was not famous for anything nor was it ever considered important.. Its citizens were out and bustling from markets and houses. The tavern, being evening, was bursting with boisterous laughing and music. After a bit of thinking, drawing a few glances from passerby as they noted his odd dress, he decided to enter said tavern. Dried meat and fruit would keep hunger away, but were rather boring after eating them for most weeks.

The inn itself was not much- the Crook and Vine - and had no distinguishing features other than an old bard who played the lute like he was still a boy. As he entered, he felt eyes on him, prickling the back of his neck. In taverns like this there was a general rule about hiding your face; don't. Still, he didn't mind the stares. He strode up to the bar taking a seat on an empty stool towards the end.

"What'll you be havin'?" The barkeep, a stocky man of around forty,asked.

"Whatever is in the pot back behind you and sailor's staple, without the rum." Sailor's staple was essentially two parts water, one part rum, and one part lime and lemon juice. Without the rum the water was increased to three parts. Xekai drank it this way because he didn't drink alcohol, and the illusion needed to hide a mark on his neck made him nauseous. The lime and lemon juice helped somewhat with the queasiness.

The barkeep nodded suspiciously and scooped out a thick bowl of what smelled like average beef and vegetable stew. Placing it in front of Xekai, he set a flagon down with the drink as well. He coaxed his mask down, obscuring his mark and began to eat delicately as to not get any food or drink on his clothes, face or hands.