Elf's Random Musings

So, this fantasy story is . . . sort of kicking my ass.

Figured I'd post some of it to get some feed back on it. See if I'm getting the feel right.

The whisper of steel sliding from its wooden sheath was almost deafening, but musical just the same. Caoimhe wrapped her left hand along the black leather of the sword’s handle and felt the subtle pulse through her bare palm. A scraping ripple filled the air as the barbed metal coils that were intricately lined around the guard and lower blade of the sword came to life. They slid lower until they began to wind around the swordwoman’s wrist before imbedding their blackened points into her bare skin.

A hiss left Caoimhe’s lips as she flexed her fingers around the handle as bright crimson welled up around the metal thorns imbedded into her arm. Her heart began to race as the blood seemingly flowed impossibly upward into the thorns. The blackened steel blade pulsed a deep black before red cackled and sparked around it like lightning. That same dark red filled the edges of Caoimhe’s vision as she could hear the heartbeats in the castle before her and smell the stench of waste, expended lust, and the sweet coppery tang of blood.

Her eyes narrowed at the dark stone walls looming before her and the creature dwelling within. Her right hand gripped the sword under her left as she readied it. Steel plates clanked together with each step, but she wanted to be heard. Mud was soft under her heavy boots with each step as the rank stench grew stronger and stronger with each step.

The sky was darkening above her, lightning and thunder filling it as a storm approached. A chill wind whipped at her braid as the air charged more and more with power. Her heart was thundering in her ears, the red haze was completely filling her vision, tinting everything with crimson, and the castle beckoned to her. Wordlessly, she took off at a run with her blade at the ready.

Massive walls crept closer and closer with each step. She could see a winding staircase that would take her to the tower that had risen into the very clouds themselves. Her target was there. The one that would fill her coffers to do this over and over again. The story was very much the same even though her mark was different.

Some evil being or creature, in this case a lich, was terrorizing some worthless village that was far from the great walls and army of the capital. The king on his far off throne could not be bothered with such a trifling matter. So whatever ruling faction of these lands sent out a cry for help for a sword to fell the fiend plaguing their lands for a price. The poor souls became so desperate that they would even consider someone of mixed blood and her gender to take on the arduous task of slaying their foe, even if they did not expect her to survive.

She figured that most of the people who accepted her services hoped that she would not survive. It would not do for a slip of a maid with her father’s sword to dispatch whatever blight that they had failed against. Just they do not know of what this sword is, she thought as she watched the tiny crackles of red travel from the barbs in her arm as it grew more and more numb with each step.

The rest of her body was pulsing with power, and it was a power she fully intended to use.

One of the doors at the base of the castle jerked open and snarls filled the air. A smile curved Caoimhe’s lips as she saw the two massive beasts and the things that held their leashes. Two long muzzles were curved back to reveal massive, curving fangs like sabers as saliva made the yellow teeth gleam. Bright golden eyes met hers with an alien intelligence, as if the two massive beasts were simply letting themselves be leashed because it suited them.

The two goblins taking the leads of the hulking, lupine creatures eyed her open hunger in their sharp, black eyes. Their bodies were squat, not much taller than her own slight height, but filled with thick, corded muscle under their stone colored skin. Long ears like a bat’s twitched slightly as porcine nostrils flared as they tugged on the leashes of the twin beasts that were snarling and straining to get at her.

She gripped her sword and was in motion.

All she was aware of was this throbbing ache in the back of her mind, a thirst that could never truly be quenched by her own blood or the blood of countless others. No matter what, her blade whispered its siren’s song to her. It was hot, hungry and demanding and filled her vision with more and more redness. She distantly heard steel sing as it sliced through the air as the two massive beasts came barreling towards her.

One sharp slice cleaved through muscle and bone as if it was not even there. No blood stained the sword’s darkened blade as a lupine head rolled to the ground. Its twin howled at the loss of its companion before rushing her. Caoimhe spun to the side of its charge and thrust down sharply. The blade bit the ground as the creature jerked and twitched upon its edges. She could feel the warm pulse fill her muscles with even more power before she pulled her blade free.

The two goblins raised short, heavy blades with a roar before charging her.

***

“She won’t be stopped!”

Endlessly dark eyes narrowed at the form kneeling before something so much greater than him. The goblin’s golden-green eyes were downcast as blood seeped from a myriad of wounds that had been etched into his stone like skin. His fists were curled tightly as they rested upon the stone floor as he informed his lord of the onslaught.

Lord Achan, Bane of the Eldridge, stroked his chin with emaciated fingers and tapped a sharp nail against his thin lips. He bent forward and lifted the goblin’s face, some captain of Achan’s army, and looked him straight in the eye. “You are telling me that a woman is slaughtering my forces,” the lich said with a sneer.

The goblin nodded and said, “Aye, my lord. Elfin heritage from her ears, but the look of her doesn’t mark her as pure of blood.”

“No one elf could cull my forces as easily as you say,” Achan said before shoving the goblin away from him and standing to his full height. His black robes billowed around him as he began to pace in front of his throne. There were other goblins and a handful of normal men staring straight ahead, afraid to lock eyes with their dark lord. Not that Achan blamed them, after all he had been twisted by his magic to something to exist beyond his death.

His heart had lain still in his chest for centuries, but yet he still moved. There was always more knowledge and power to be gained. Until someone with a head full of ideas darkens my doorstep, he thought with a scowl. He wasn’t arrogant enough to think he couldn’t be beaten; after all he had heard and even seen other liches culled from their positions of power through the ages. Yet my end will not come quickly.

He pointed to the largest goblin in the room and said, “Go, bring me this girl alive and once I am through with her you can have first rights to her.”

The goblin, a massive brute with a golden ring connecting his nostrils, smiled to reveal tusks and stood straight. His salute was sharp and hard before he pounded his chest and said, “Your will be done, Dark Lord!”

“And go with him,” Achan said to the rest of his army as he walked to his throne. The ornate chair was crafted from dark wood and cushions made out of black velvet. He sank into the large chair with a frown. Fingers idly tapped against the right arm as the room was cleared, leaving Achan and the goblin who had brought his master ill tidings.

“My Lord, you don’t understand. It as if her sword hungers for blood,” the goblin said, kneeling on the ground, his eyes down cast.

Achan blinked and extended his skeletal fingers that sported heavy rings with blackened metal and dark stones. Each stone had a purpose and a meaning, and helped support his unique existence. Fussing with the tears of the Earth was more of a witch’s calling, but the lich had found other forms of magic quite useful in his years. As he studied the all too familiar rings, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“She severed limbs and each droplet of blood that touched her dark blade vanished, as if it was absorbed by its steel,” the goblin said, his voice rising as his hands clutched the floor he was kneeling upon.

Achan unfolded himself from his throne and leaned towards the goblin. He raised his eyebrow and asked, “Is that so?” He lifted his foot under the goblin’s chin and continued to lift his leg so the goblin was looking up at him. The thing’s eyes were glazed with terror and he silently nodded. “Or are you lying to me?”

Then he kicked with all of his might, sending the creature flying back. Achan rose to his feet, his robes swirling behind him , and said, “If your tongue is untruthful, I will rip it from your worthless head.”

Had his heart beat, Achan reasoned it would have all but exploded from his chest at that moment. Absently, the fallen wizard rubbed his fingers over the deep, metallic grey stone in the ring that graced his left ring finger. The dark surface reflected his gaunt features back at him in an odd angle, further distorting his features. He looked away from the stone and then back at the goblin. “Did you see this sword, maggot?”

The goblin’s bowed head nodded eagerly. Achan leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Describe it to me.”