Greg's side book

[Lord Gregorio]

So here's a story. I'll be updating it every once and a while. It's just a side story I'll be writing when I get tired of my book I'm trying to publish (The first little bit is in my signature). I think the magic system of this book is pretty interesting. Sorry for the length. Maybe I'll shorten chapters into sections.

Chapter 1

Spoiler

 

Chapter 1 (1st section)

Spoiler

    The bits of broken glass on Mezner’s coat cut his fingers as he pulled them off. At least they didn’t stick into my skin, he thought. Another minor inconvenience in his travels. The tavern had contained a couple particularly unique audience members.

    A songless, Mezner wondered to himself, what a wonderful challenge to attempt to complete! How would not having the constant music in the back of your head be? The dons that constantly pushed to overcome one’s mind.

    Mezner was sure it would allow one to learn much easier how to play an instrument. A musician had to be focused, and Mezner prided himself on his talent. Being a songless would make it so the music they played didn’t affect the player. Mezner was good enough at controlling the dons to travel without getting thrown out at every inn and tavern he entered.

    It was hard when he got a new audience. He tended to talk a little, uncontrolled around new audiences. The songless had been particularly annoyed at Mezner’s vocal observation of their musical and emotional awareness. Or rather, the lack thereof. He had merely observed their lack of musical appreciation.

    The songless, there had only been two, had lived in the small town. Everyone had been angered by Mezner’s remarks. He hadn’t meant it to be rude, but the religious implications would be offending. The room had exploded with flame and quaked. Some dullard had let the dons get the better of them. Unless it had been on purpose, Mezner thought. 

    The tavern had been put out by a bit of masterful work by the innkeep. Borth had a unique talent that made him a very good innkeeper. When Borth used his fear desh a thick swirl of water drops would burst from him. It was almost like raining, but Borth was the cloud. Maybe he would have been just as suited to other jobs, but he did well in a tavern. His alcohol was almost always kept in the kegs and his glasses were stored behind cupboard walls. It made getting to the stuff slightly annoying, but worth it just in case he could save his tavern.

    Luckily Borth had been there to stop Mezner from dying in Fetnru. It was a small city, but Mezner had made a couple stops through to Aunt Pilwarz. Not my actual aunt, but the poor lady doesn’t seem to have anyone else in her life, Mezner thought. Mezner frowned, but then again, neither do I! The distant dons slowed. Mezner smiled, Why would I want anyone else in my life? I will always have an audience! That’s all I need.

    The road from Fetnru was nice. Better than the muddy one from Coldhol to Swanfallo for sure, Mezner thought. Mezner played a small tune for a leken on his flute as he passed its tree. The songbird returned with a ruffle of its beautiful dark orange feathers and a trill. Mezner smiled, feeling joyous and letting a bit of the dons enter his head. He felt a spring in his step, leaves rustled around and followed him on the path. Shouts from behind Mezner only pushed him forward. 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

    The next town Mezner arrived at was less than three hours walk away. A wonderful distance. There was a partly built city wall. It looked nice, for the beginning of a wall for a small town. The stone didn’t really match in plenty of places, but that wasn’t what they were going for. It looked rugged and fresh. They must have started putting this up within the last week, Mezner realized. There was a person hauling a sheaf of lare wheat. The wheat seeds were red and brilliant for a cheap whiskey. A cheap town, Mezner thought, I’d be lucky to get a cartik out of these folks. Should be able to buy some cheap whiskey for that, though. 

    Mezner checked his pack. A handful of tesen, five zesh and fifteen cartik. He’d be mugged for sure, not here, but in any large non-Anorian town he would. Mezner shrugged, As long as they’re part of the audience. I’ve never had a thief as part of my audience. Or one robbing me at that. Most of the audience he’d performed for had been bartenders and passed out drunkards. He was well known-enough though. Especially as a half-Anorian.

    Mezner called to the hauler of wheat, “Ho there! Good gatherer? How cuts the harvest?”

    The gatherer stopped and set down the wheat. Mezner pulled out his flute. Feeling suddenly defensive.

    “The harvest cuts fine. Why are you traveling through, stranger? There is no great city to go to from here. Nothing but the woods,” said the gatherer. A short fellow with short black hair and narrow blue eyes. An angry enough looking man. A Dulandur. A strange look in his eye. What is an Dulandish doing this far west, Mezner thought, oh well. 

    “Because traveling is me and I am travel. Name a traveler who’s me’d better than I and I’ll a travel better than that traveler you know,” Mezner smiled.

    “Oh. You’re a musician,” said the man, with a bit of disgust in his voice. The man’s eyes widened a little, “Dons! You’re Mezner! Taller than I thought you’d be.”

    Mezner bowed and flourished his flute in a formal musician’s greeting. “That I am,” said Mezner, “Moldy Mezner, at your service. Or masterful, munificent, melodramatic, myopic, m…” 

    The man interrupted him, “What are you doing here? This town doesn’t have any money for you.”

    “I’m not looking for money, dear gatherer. I’m looking for an adventure. For an audience!” said Mezner, raising a fist. 

    The man’s frown deepened, “Well. You won’t find much of an audience here. We’re busy harvesting before the cold comes. It would be best to travel a couple kingdoms north for a couple months. It’ll be warmer there. Or wait till winter comes and people hide from the chill in the warmth of taverns.”

    “I’m well aware of weather, my good gatherer. It is my audience every day. I don’t plan on freezing to death. Nor do I plan on abandoning potential audiences. Travel will take me where it needs me and where I go I will find an audience,” Mezner gave the man a grin.

    “Well…I guess you can go to the tavern if you really want. You won’t find many good rooms there. Getig is a kindly woman, but everything around here isn’t what a musician like you might want. It’s fallen apart,” said the man, gesturing to the town.

    “Don’t worry…You never gave me a name. Do you mind?” said Mezner.

    “I’m Gavrz. Town head gatherer,” said Gavrz.

    “Ah! So you’re an important man!”

    “Well see, I wouldn’t say important. I’m one of the three gatherers in town. We all work together,” Gavrz rubbed his neck.

    Mezner shook his head, “If you would work to get the townsfolk’s respect, then maybe you could cause some real change here.”

    Gavrz narrowed his eyes, “I don’t know if I want it to change around here. It’s a quiet and simple life. You’re the most exciting thing this town is likely to see in a long time.”

    “I’m sure something better will happen. What is the name of this town anyway?” said Mezner.

    “Clitbuton,” said Gavrz, “Why did you come this way? It’s out of the way of the main road.”

    “To find an audience! I answered you before. I’m sort of an explorer musician you see, and…hey. Why is Clitbuton building a wall?”

    Gavrz frowned, “What…? It’s a wall.”

    “Also, why are you here? In the west. You’re Dulandir, aren’t you?” Gavrz didn’t reply. “I myself am a Khazadur. I’m traveling to…” Mezner was interrupted.

    “Now look, Mezner, we are building a wall for the same reason everyone builds a wall. To keep things out. I am Dulandish, yes, but is there a law against me living here? You travel, I traveled the same way. You are welcome to go into town, but I need to gather more wheat,” said Gavrz, holding up his hands.

    “Ah, ever the responsible farmer I see. All right, you win, my friend. Don’t let Mesmed distract you, and may Epete strengthen your…scythe arm. Epete be your guide and all that. Though I guess I should be giving you Petazar’s blessing instead, Him being your God and all. I’m partial to Zetavism, but I guess that was bound to happen due to my birth home.”

    “Farwell, Mezner. Maybe I’ll see you at the tavern. I’m an atheist so don’t worry about blessing me,” Gavrz waved over his shoulder as he carried his wheat. 

    “I’ll try to convert you!” yelled Mezner, “You can’t be blessed by nothing! That proves there must be some supreme being out there.” I wonder if he’s actually an atheist, Mezner thought, there’s something odd here. Mezner checked the road where he had come from, feeling a sudden chill. He had almost turned around when something caught his eye. A man was hobbling up from the woods, head down. Mezner found himself immediately admiring the man. Walking with my head pointed down would make me unable to see where I was going. I woulda tripped boot and head by now, Mezner thought.

    “Wo there!” called Mezner, “Is your boot untied? You don’t have to watch it so steadily. If you trip over your lace, I’ll be the only one to see. I’m a very quiet man, I won’t tell any person if you do trip.” It would be quite amusing.

    The man looked up with a sudden energy and a burst of chill pushed grass all around him to the ground. Oh Epete save me, Mezner thought, or the wind or something. The man’s eyes had ice fringing around them and water dripped from his chin from a frozen beard. He’s farzin mad! A monster. Mezner thought, giddy with excitement. He barely kept himself from dancing with joy. The flute came out of Mezner’s pack with barely a thought. Another new audience, not ten miles from the last one! Who woulda prayed for such luck. I guess I should have, but, thank you anyway Epete! Mezner thought, praying a quick prayer to thank the goddess.

    Mezner raised the flute to his lips and played. The man ran toward Mezner, a frozen cudgel forming in his left hand and a shield in his right. A warrior in his past, perhaps a soldier, Mezner thought with another jolt of excitement. Mezner began to play a Khazadurian tune the army camps had enjoyed. The words were a witty banter between warrior and death. The warrior gave reasons he should live and why the war would be more interesting. Death, or Mesmed in most songs he’d sang, had verses of complaining about warriors who wouldn’t just accept death. I probably shouldn’t try to sing the words, Mezner thought.

    Mezner’s beautiful wood flute played the amusing tune, but it seemed to only enrage the monster more. “Fine! I didn’t much like that song very much anyway!” yelled Mezner. The air around Mezner grew dangerous and chilling. Amazing, his rage desh creates ice. Not fire nor quakes, but ice! Mezner began another song he’d played for the military. It was a slow song about accepting death. Mezner let the dons fill his head and his sad desh spread. The dons. It was beautiful in a way. 

    Mezner found a peace in the dons, even though it could sound haunting at times. Mezner’s sadness gave him a sudden strength and he leapt forward, sliding the flute into his pack. With his other hand, Mezner drew a knife and plunged it into the monster’s chest. The blood that came out was slow and more blue than the blood that came from Mezner when he received a similar cut on the arm. That cudgel had sharp bits. 

    His blood is cold! I wonder if it’s uncomfortable, Mezner thought. The knife didn’t come out. Mezner dodged the cudgel and tried another cut at the man with a new knife, but he blocked the knife with the shield. Blast! One would think a man stuck in one emotion would be too emotionally dead to know how to fight. I wonder…are different monsters better at certain things?

    Would a monster stuck in disgust be better at observing things, or ignoring them? Mezner danced back as the man swung again. Mezner sighed, “Fine.” He reached back and pulled out his flute. He stuck the knife in a strange hole on the foot end. The knife locked perfectly into place and Mezner held it like a small spear. “This is sure to bust up my flute,” said Mezner, “If I have to break this on you, you’ll be the worst audience I’ve had in the last week!”

    Mezner felt the dons shift to a quick, angry music and he rushed to the side of the monster. He felt himself speeding up, his legs strengthening. He stabbed the monster a few times before it got its shield up and began to block better. The monster was bleeding, but it hadn’t even flinched. It can’t feel pain, Mezner thought, it can only feel anger. What can I do to affect it if it is always enraged? The air around Mezner grew even colder. Mezner could see the grass around them getting covered with bits of ice.

    “Die!” yelled the other man, “Die! You stupid khaza!”

    Well, that was unnecessary, Mezner thought. Mezner dodged a slam from the shield and slid around it to get close to the monster. He plunged the flute up into the man’s chest and pushed him to the ground. The flute broke, the blade coming off in the man. Mezner rolled back, throwing his pack to the ground and preparing for the man to attack. He cursed, multiple times. The monster didn’t rise. Mezner eased his way forward. “Are you dead?” hissed Mezner, “Please don’t tell me you're still alive. You broke my flute. And you hurt my feelings.”

    The body didn’t move. The wind and air warmed. Mezner relaxed, taking a look at his flute. It wasn’t reparable. Shattered to pieces. Mezner pulled the broken piece out of the body and wiped his blade on the grass before putting it away. Mezner pushed the dons into the distance. Nobody had noticed the fight, so Mezner left the body and made his way to the town. After informing someone who looked relatively like a guard that he had killed a don-drunk, Mezner made his way deeper into the little town. Now where’s that tavern, they’d better have some tura juice, Mezner thought. A burst of birds flew overhead and Mezner stopped, watching them in awe.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~

    The tavern was made of stone. Getig was the only one working at the moment. Being a waitress, the bartender and cleaner all in one. She likely had some way to take care of emotional people, but she hadn’t shown it yet. Getig was a short woman, likely Dulandir or Uruk. She was plump, and looked like she could use a good song. Pretty, but not looking for anyone to flirt with. Unfortunately, Mezner had broken his flute. He only had his lute left now. I’ll have to find a suitable flute somewhere, Mezner thought. 

    “So…you’re telling me that you want to play at this tavern in exchange for a room and some food?” said Getig.

    “Yep,” Mezner nodded.

    “I don’t have much money to give you. I know musicians are paid a lot, but not many people come here. They’re all from town anyway.” 

    “Ah, whatever. Do you have a room? Cause all I want is to play a bit, keep you company if no one shows up, then have a drink and a nice meal. After that I’ll go to bed, if you have a room here?”

    “I’ve got an extra room, Mezner, it is a tavern afterall.”

    “Just checking. I have been to many taverns that had no rooms on it. Quite odd it was. I didn’t understand it,” Mezner surveyed the tavern room. He noticed Getig raise an eyebrow. Oh, he thought. “Well at least I know you’re hospitable.”

    There were only four tables with four chairs at each. The tables were stone and looked pretty heavy. A couple even had scorch marks. Quite odd, Mezner thought.

    “You never know how alcohol will affect a person’s ability to keep the dons in the distance,” said Getig, “I’m glad I live in a small town. The people here don’t drown themselves in drinks, they only come here to talk. It’s a good place, Mezner, don’t ruin that.”

    “Don’t worry. I’m a musician, how could I ruin your happy little tavern? Your friends would probably toss me out if I tried to make people angry.” Mezner saw no fancy drinks behind the bar. Gavrz had been harvesting red wheat. He had shown up just as Mezner had been getting close. That’s probably the only source of alcohol they have. It’s not like they’ll get large shipments or merchants coming through, Mezner thought. 

    “It’s because you’re a musician that I’m worried. Music has a large influence on emotion and I don’t know if I can trust you to be responsible enough to not influence people here too much,” Getig folded her arms.

    Mezner held up his hands, “I’m not a fool. Or rather, well…”

    “Just don’t burn the building down. They could show up anytime,” Getig turned back to wiping off the bar.

    “Wait. How exactly would I burn this building…?” began Mezner.

    “Dons!” said Getig, “I was just saying. Get away. I need to finish cleaning.”

    Mezner walked to a corner. It was a nice corner. Why would there be so few people? Why would Getig need to clean? It wasn’t like she had people coming through other than at night. There were some words scratched on the wall. Mezner pulled out his lute. “I won’t bring you to a bloody demise, don’t you worry. I liked you much better than that flute,” whispered Mezner. It was a beautiful instrument. It wasn’t a backup weapon, not really.

    The lute had been his first instrument. He had learned many great works on the thing. Mezner whispered, “Are you ready to play for a new audience you proud hunk of wood? I know I haven’t played you for a couple hours, but don’t you worry. You’ll perform tonight, even if no one’s here but that grumpy lady over there. Maybe a couple of rats.” Mezner plucked a couple notes on the lute, then started a simple tune as he waited. Closing his eyes and letting a sliver of the dons fill his head. The slight bit of peace desh cleared his head of worry.

    Through a window Mezner saw the brightness decreasing. The dons shifted, growing darker. How odd that the dons changed as the sun fell. The song of the birds grew a bit louder. Like a wonderful finale, thought Mezner, to a beautiful day. A hawk flew through the doorway and landed on the lute’s tuning pegs. Mezner smiled at the bird. “Hello friend,” he said, “Did you find anything good today?” The hawk ruffled his feathers and pulled out a necklace. Mezner rubbed the bird’s head and fed it a bit of jerky before he took the necklace.

    “What on earth?” said Getig, across the room, “Where did…?”

    “Don’t worry, Getig. Deslin’s my friend,” Mezner smelled the necklace. It had a faint scent of blood.

    “Where did it come from?” she asked. She started walking toward them.

    “Outside. Though I’m not sure what he was doing flying around. You disobedient bird, you!” Mezner pet Deslin’s beautiful feathers. Deslin was an Anorian hawk. A scavenger that would hunt for the Anorian people. His brown wing feathers were tipped with the blue of the sky. I wonder if I can fit his beautiful voice into my song somehow. I don’t really know of any songs that have birds in them, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Especially here, Mezner thought.

    “I’m not comfortable with a bird like that in here!” Getig pointed a finger at Mezner, “They are terrible and bound to not be very clean.”

   “I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave any scat on your floor, Getig. He’s very well trained, I’ll have you know. He only poops in ungentlemanly places. Places where women shouldn’t be. Anyway, do you have a school here?” Mezner stored the necklace away. Deslin pecked at Mezner’s ear, annoyed for some reason. Mezner grinned, “Hush you!”

    “Well if he makes a mess than you…A school?” Getig’s mouth dropped open, “Are you trying to drive me mad?”

    Mezner shook his head, “I don’t normally do that. Not trying anyway. People who go mad on me normally end up burning my eyebrows off or breaking the world around me.”

    “That bruise across your cheek doesn’t help your image then,” Getig winced, “I don’t know how I didn’t notice that. It’s recent. Did somebody humble your sorry annoying mouth?”

    “I killed a man today. Ice froze grass and wind pushed past we danced the dance of death and anger,” said Mezner solemnly.

    Getig stumbled back and Mezner laughed, “It was a don-drunk, Getig. I don’t kill unless I need to. I’m not a monster.”

    “What did he look like?”

    “He was a tall fellow, for not being Anorian. Very angry. Broke my favorite flute with his weight. I’d say he didn’t see very well. He had ice around his eyes. His eyes were a little hard to see with his…”

    “Did you say ice around the eyes?” asked Getig, hands clenching.

    “You asked for an explanation. Please don’t interrupt me. As I was trying to say…it was hard to see his eyes through his blond hair. I’d say his hair was a little like yours, actually. He was a bit shorter than me, though, and that made it annoying to stab him. I knew I should have been carrying that tent pole I found in Fetnru. Now that had some reach!” Mezner sent Deslin outside. Best to let him survey the outside for a bit. Getig seemed disturbed.

    “Was he Dulandish?” she asked.

    “Hard to say, I…” Mezner stopped. I’ve only seen Dulandish since I’ve been here. That man was Dulandish. This isn’t a town, not anymore. It’s a camp. Why are they camped here? They don’t have a school, that means no children. The crops they’re growing only take a couple weeks to be harvestable. Gavrz walked out of somewhere when I appeared. The don-drunk had been out in the forest. Mezner frowned, “Getig. You aren’t simple farmers, are you?”

    Getig blushed, “What makes you say that? Haven’t you seen our town?”

    Mezner’s eyes flickered around the room. The scorch marks on the tables. They’re from emotional magic, but not from drunkards. She said it herself. These people don’t intoxicate themselves, they just have a bit of drink to chat. They took this small beginning of a settlement. Likely from a Khazadur-Anorian community, Mezner thought.   

Chapter 1 (section 2)

Spoiler

Getig backed away from Mezner, toward the bar. Mezner stepped toward her, “Getig. Tell me what’s going on here. I received reports of missing people, I never thought a whole town would have been taken.”

    Getig looked toward the door, but Deslin landed there, shifting into a man with wild blue and brown hair. Mezner’s shorter half-brother. Deslin held a paper in one hand. “I intercepted this a couple hours ago, Mez,” said Deslin, holding out the paper.

    “Read it,” said Mezner.

    Deslin shut the door and stepped closer to Mezner and Getig. “It’s in Dulandesh, but I can try. From Captain Yetakan, Melody General to His Musicality. Your objective has been adjusted. You are to infiltrate the boundary of the Untamed Country. Setting a base in Ulakartha is your first priority. Discover the Anorian’s weakest areas of defense after suspicions of you have died down,” said Deslin, “After that there’s a seal, the Twelsian seal.”

    Mezner sighed, “Twelesa? I thought Belhazn would be the one to infiltrate first. And I thought there was going to be a decent audience here. I’m a bit tired of new audiences that don’t appreciate me.”

    The back door slammed open, and six men entered the room. “Here’s your audience Mezner,” said Gavrz. The men were all Dulandish. They’ve got weapons too, got to be careful with these people.

    “Good, I wouldn’t want you all to miss such a fantastic show! Though I wouldn’t call this mess decent,” Mezner held his arms out wide and as the men fired their crossbows. Mezner welcomed the dons. His anger let him speed up and the bolts seemed to slow. Mezner ducked, rolling forward. Deslin had moved as the men entered the room, and was already shifted back into a hawk. Mezner sped forward, punching one man in the face. Mezner’s anger wasn’t the most useful of his desh, but it was the only strong emotion he could manage to have right now.

    Mezner pulled out a knife for both hands and began to cut. Deslin landed on the other side of the men and shifted form. Mezner’s brother began attacking with his short sword. Mezner killed two men quickly. Deslin had killed another with a sword through their back. Gavrz shot another bolt at Mezner. The bolt scraped Mezner’s side. Ouch. Gavrz dropped his crossbow and leapt for Mezner’s neck. Mezner fell to the ground, his knee digging into Gavrz’s stomach. Gavrz gasped and Mezner felt his sight blurring. Gavrz has let the don’s in. Dangerous. He’s angry, it’s making him stronger. Mezner felt uncomfortably warm. Gavrz could also heat the air around them. Mezner held only one knife now, and he shoved it into Gavrz, though he couldn’t tell where.

    Gavrz gasped, then growled. Mezner saw a man fall, Deslin’s sword cutting through him. Gavrz’s hair began to flame. Don’t you dare, Gavrz! Mezner began to panic and the music in his head turned to fear. Gavrz flew upward, but as did everyone else around Mezner. People slammed into the ceiling, then fell to the ground and Mezner stumbled to his feet. “Sorry Deslin,” said Mezner, helping his brother stand, “They’re willing to go don-drunk.”

    Deslin handed Mezner a knife. Mezner dodged a bolt and leapt forward, kicking the crossbow from the man on the ground. “Mezner!” yelled Gavrz, “You two don’t stand a chance. We’re going to all go don-drunk and you won’t be able to kill us all. No one will realize why you died.”

    “Gavrz, you’ll just kill each other,” said Mezner.

    Deslin plunged his sword into one of the men’s chests, the one who had shot the bolt at Mezner. It was Gavrz, Getig and the other man. Another Dulandir, Mezner thought. The third man had scars. He held an ax and looked from Mezner to Deslin to Gavrz.

    “Let’s kill them, Gavrz!” said the scarred man, stepping forward.

    Gavrz stopped him, “Who are you two?”

    Mezner bowed, “I am Mezner. One of the best musicians in the West Alliances. This is my friend, a bird.”

    The scarred man scoffed, “I know of the Anorian shifters. They’re strange, inhuman. Let’s finish them off, Gav!”

    Gavrz kept his arm out, “Hold Hev. Mezner, what are you doing here? Are you an inspector?”

    “I’m not an officer of any kind. I’m Khazadur, my friend here is Anorian. We saw some strange going on here, and decided to check it out. Or rather Deslin wanted to check it out. I wanted to explore,” said Mezner.

    “The Anorian are going to take over the world. They’re dangerous and we’ve been sent to help stop them,” said Gavrz, “Why don’t you join us, Mezner. We could use a musician.”

    “The Anorian are fine to stay where we wish!” said Deslin, “We don’t seek to expand our forces like you Dulandir! We aren’t murderers. We just want to live in the land of our ancestors. Where music began.”

    “Dulandir expands to spread the word of Dofru and his children to recover the other impure races,” said Gavrz, “We will cleanse the world of evil, and I will start with you! Dofru take me!” Gavrz looked to the ceiling and clenched his hands. He’s giving in! Mezner started forward but Hev cut at him with the ax. 

   The room erupted with heat and Hev jumped away from Gavrz. Where’s Getig! The woman had made it to the door and was about to leave. She’ll warn others! Mezner dug a knife into Hev and ran to Getig, who he knocked to the ground. Mezner pushed the music from his mind and yelled to Deslin in Anorian, “Let’s go, Deslin!”

    Deslin flew out the door and Mezner followed. The room behind them erupted with heat and a roar from Gavrz. No, that’s not Gavrz. It is a creature. Anger and destruction, Mezner thought. The don-drunk burst out the door, his mouth spewing fire and his hands clenched into giant flaming fists. He’s gone don-drunk! We’ve got to go! Gavrz was obviously a hot-head. Not just because of his flaming spit, but because of the strength of his anger. Getig stumbled out of the building behind Gavrz, coughing and running away. He’ll kill everyone here, Mezner thought. “Deslin!” yelled Mezner, “do you have any water?”

    Deslin, now human, raised an eyebrow at Mezner. All right, all right. Maybe not my best idea. “What do we do? Run?” asked Mezner. 

    “Coward, Mezner?” asked Deslin. Deslin grabbed his short sword in a two handed grip and sprinted forward. All right. I guess we’re doing this. Mezner took a deep breath as he ran, dumping his pack to the ground. Mezner gripped his daggers with sweaty hands. Not sure if this will do much help, Deslin! Mezner thought, darn brother is going to get us killed! Deslin dodged a punch from Gavrz, then cut at him. Gavrz stumbled back with an enraged look and a cut across his chest. His eyes, they’re flaming with anger, Mezner thought. It wasn’t as bad as the don-drunk Mezner had killed earlier, but flames flickered at the edges of the man’s eyes.

    Gavrz spewed fire in a protective wall, forcing Deslin back. Mezner slammed one knife into Gavrz’s side then shoved the enraged man with his shoulder. Gavrz stumbled back against the building and roared, “I will have your heads!” Mezner backed away, weaponless. Deslin ran toward Gavrz, but was deflected by another wall of fire. The heat in the air was nearly unbearable. It was like standing by a bonfire.

    Mezner threw a rock he’d picked up at Gavrz. It hit Gavrz’s arm. Gavrz smiled at Mezner. “Idiot,” said Gavrz. There were no weapons around Mezner and the dons had dwelled in his head for so long today already. If Mezner wasn’t careful he would become like Gavrz. Mezner felt the dons pushing at his mind. “Deslin,” yelled Mezner, “I think it’s time for you to perform!”

    Deslin rolled his eyes, “Seriously Mezner, this again. I don’t think it helps.”

    Mezner grinned, “It helps.”

    Deslin began to sing in the beautiful Anorian language. Mezner was immune to the entrancing song, but Gavrz stumbled. Gavrz was no longer able to be affected greatly however, he was just angry now. He opened his mouth to spew more fire, and Mezner let the don enter like he had not for a long time. Mezner felt an epicness from Deslin’s singing. It was a song about strength and exploration. Mezner yearned for exploration, and he needed strength. The floor blurred beneath him as Mezner ran. He picked up a rock as he approached Gavrz. The enraged monster opened his mouth and fire began to erupt from his mouth. Mezner ducked and danced, dodging the flame. The rock was shoved down Gavrz’s throat, and the fire curled out in small wisps. 

    Gavrz’s eyes widened with more anger and he began to choke. Mezner slowed from his sprint and Deslin ran up, finishing Gavrz. I’ve never run like that, Mezner thought as he struggled to push the dons from his head. “Mezner, I think it’s time to leave,” said Deslin. Yells were coming from further in the town.

    “I agree,” said Mezner, “We’re unwelcome. It’s too bad. I was going to see if someone wanted to sell me a flute.

 

 

Edited November 17, 2022 by Gregorio
shortening spoiler sections