Message in the Storm

Toran opened his eyes but could not see through the black of the night.

The drops of rain streamed to their death all around him, soaking the ground and pounding on the crude lean-to he had constructed the night before. Even with the noise of the rain, he didn't doubt the sound that had awoken him.

The smooth sound of a sword being pull from its sheath.

Toran grabbed his own sword, which lay naked beside him, and carefully crawled out from under his shelter. He stood slowly and surveyed his surroundings in the dim moonlight.

Rain soaked his shoulder length dark hair as he peered deep into the trees. There seemed to be no movement, other than the bending of the leaves as they bowed to the weight of the water. Soundlessly, Toran turned his head to catch a view to his sides. Still there was nothing.

Toran put his blade out in front of him and took a step forward. The sword sliced through a thin stream of moonlight, illuminating it. Toran gazed at it for a moment, while the clear drops ended upon it.

Until there was a drop that wasn't clear.

Toran's eyes widened as the circular dot of dark red spidered its was across the blade. The blood connected with the water and flowed over the steel and through the intricate designs. Toran raised his eyes and blade as the figure above him leapt down with a cry.

"Dredican!" Toran cried, pulling his sword up in a defensive position. The cloaked man stood almost a head and shoulders above Toran, with his weapon raised high. Black eyes shimmered and the light washed over the side of his unshaven face, revealing the long gash that oozed thick blood.

"It's a wonder I found you. I thought you would be dead by now." Dredican said with a rasp, holding his attack. Toran's lips curled in a sneer.

"You thought wrong my friend. I am as alive as you are, which isn't saying much."

"Just as snide as you were when you were a boy I see. We've been through a lot Toran. We had it made." Dredican took a sharp intake of breath, "Why did you have to go and betray me? Why did you become a knight?"

The hiss of the older man's voice sent a chill down Toran's spine. He ignored it and didn't let down his guard as he responded.

"I found out that our plan wasn't going to work. We could never trick the goblins into finding the Tapestry of Illume and get away with it, not without killing the King. That wasn't something I was going to do."

"Why not?!" Dredican cried, pressing forward slightly with his anger. "He had no heir to take the throne and the Queen was on her deathbed! It was perfect and you ruined it."

Toran shook his head with fury. "What does that matter now? It was ages ago! I do not regret the choice I made. Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to change it now."

Dredican nodded, lowering his sword. "I admit, that is not why I have come."

Toran did not yield his own blade but looked at his old friend curiously. "Then why are you here?"

"You have a message."

The young knight turned suspicious. "From whom?"

"Lady Neveth. She wishes you to come and see her at the Cathedral of Birtenn immediately. She says it is urgent."

Toran forgot his resolve and put the blade's tip to the ground, leaning upon it slightly. "Why would she request that I am to come? What is the message?"

Dredican shook his head. "She would not reveal it to me."

Toran bit his lip and was silent for a moment. The rain was now starting to beat down upon them harder, but neither seemed to notice. "It is without sense." His golden eyes looked up and caught with the darkened ones. "Why would they lower a master spy like you to the ranks of a messenger boy?"

"I'm the only one who can find you."

Toran nodded to this and lifted the sword out of the ground. He straightened his back and angled the blade toward the sky. "Now that is the truth."

Dredican grinned and stepped forward. "You were a good spy, but never as good as I. No matter how hard you try, I will always be able to find you." He gave a short, hoarse laugh. "You will never be rid of me!"

Toran twirled his wrist and pressed the tip of the sword against Dredican's chest before the man could blink. Dredican's eyes widened and Toran gave a thin lipped smile.

"And that's a lie."

The knight pressed the sword, forcing it through his chest and heart. Dredican's mouth dropped open and his eyes rolled up. Toran swiftly jerked the blade out, letting the blood cascade out of the wound freely. The man fell to the ground and was still. Toran wiped the blood off his blade and quickly strode away.

"Lady Neveth did not give me that message." Toran thought aloud as he made his was through the forest. "But someone did and I intend to find out who."

-)--->

Toran was on the road and heading toward the Cathedral of Birtenn when the sun rose over the horizon. The knight paid no attention to its breathtaking beauty however and instead concentrated on his raging thoughts.

Why would someone tell me to come to the Cathedral? Toran asked himself, turning with a curve in the path. It didn't seem like a very good place to trap anyone, him the least. He had been to the place of worship more than once and knew his way around fairly well. What was more was that it was situated just outside of a quaint little village. No soldier training...nothing. In fact the closest danger was a few miles away in the hills.

The hills were well known for being a home to goblins. The goblins could be vicious creatures when they were bothered but otherwise kept to themselves. They hadn't caused a fight in that village in over a decade.

There was only one more thing that made that Cathedral unique.

"The Tapestry..." Toran murmured and let the picture of the elegant piece flow through his mind.

The Tapestry of Illume was something that has long been passed as only a rumor, a strange farce. But years ago when Toran had just met Dredican the team of two stumbled upon a world of secrets and cover ups - and the Tapestry.

Illume Degru Jaffin was a powerful witch. She experimented with different curses and potions, curing diseases and making two teenagers fall in love. It was all harmless fun to her. But then, during her experiments, she created something she never thought possible. The one thing all people of power wanted in order to stay in power. The elixer of immortality.

Illume knew that she couldn't keep a stock of the elixer, because it was too easily stolen. So she sewed the recipe on a Tapestry, thinking she would be the only one who knew what it made.

However, when Illume turned 126 years old, people started to get curious. She confided to a trusted friend the secret of the elixer. Yet the loyalty of the friendship could not be trusted. Word got out, and within six months time she was killed for refusing to reveal where the Tapestry was hidden. After all, the elixer provided longevity, not invincibility.

The tapestry was woven in a secret room of that Cathedral. The building had been searched many times and proven that the Tapestry was not being hidden there.

Unless someone has moved it? Toran thought, but quickly shoved that out of his mind. He was no longer interested in that Tapestry. He only wanted to find out who sent the message.

Toran traveled swiftly and it wasn't long before the rain stopped. The knight paused only to eat some soggy bread and an apple. He had to make haste, in hopes he could surprise whomever called him. Toran calculated he should make it there by sundown.

Toran was careful to stay on the trails and mind his own business. Although he wasn't in the hills of the goblins, they could be lurking, searching for food. Toran was strong and well trained, but few could beat a troop of goblins with only a sword.

Goblins were simple creatures, who spoke their own language of grunts and hand gestures. It was almost impossible to teach them the language of the humans, although a few were able to grasp it. Dredican and Toran had once come across a group who could understand them. That is where they learned most of the information about the Tapestry and developed the plan to get it for themselves.

They were going to trick the goblins into finding the tapestry and keeping it. They pretended they wanted to help out the dying group. Unfortunetely, the King heard about the spies conversing with the goblins and wanted them to stop immediately. They could either follow the King's orders or kill him. That was when Toran made his choice.

I've come clean and become a true follower of the King, so why is something like this happening now? Toran wondered, wiping the sweat off his brow. He hoped whatever it was could just be taken care of, and quickly. He was out on assignment for the King and going to the Cathedral wasn't part of it.

The rest of Toran's day was spent traveling over the road, which sometimes grew fainter and harder to distinguish. He caught glimpses of scurrying goblins along the way but had no interaction.

Just as the sun was about to set, Toran reached the top of a hill. He stopped for a moment and put his hands on his hips, letting himself catch his breath.

He looked down over the small, peaceful village. There was little movement. The peasants had packed up and retired to their homes for the night. His eyes wandered over to the Cathedral, lying on the southeast corner of the village. It looked dark and unoccupied but years of spy training let him know someone was inside.

Toran adjusted his naked blade at his side and started down to the path to the Cathedral of Birtenn. His eyes were glued to the stained windows, watching for any sort of movement.

Which was why he didn't notice the shadows quietly trailing behind him.

-|--->

Toran closed the door to the Cathedral quietly behind him and took a deep breath of the stale air. The building was in desperate need of having its doors opened on a windy day. The young knight crept down the dark back hallway, eyes constantly on the lookout for movement.

The cathedral had four levels, most people only knew of three. The main one he was on, the loft in the back was two, and the third was the bell tower. The fourth was hidden and went below ground.

Toran made his way down the halls as he remembered them, being careful not to make a creak that could be heard from below. Toran's whole plan depended on the element of surprise.

Walking down the dimly lit hall, the knight stopped suddenly in front of a door. It had a thin layer of dust on it and anyone would assume it led to a closet of somesort, something that wasn't used. Toran knew better however, from the fact that the dust was wiped clean from the handle.

Toran reached for the handle then stopped, lifting his head. All was silent, the only waver in the air from his own breath. The wind outside brushed lightly against the windows, whispering to be let it.

Nothing inside the Cathedral moved.

Slowly and cautiously, Toran pulled open the door to reveal an uneven flight of stairs leading down into pure darkness. He bravely went forth, closing the door behind him.

The walls were covered with a slimy mold, the kind that only lived where it was dark. He ran his fingers over it gently as he desended down into a seemingly endless darkness. He imagined the mold growing over the bare spots, suffocating the wall entirely.

Toran's senses were heightened with the loss of his eyes. His fingertips felt the mold and the prickly wall beneath it. He could smell the musk and staleness of the air, could feel it clutch at his lungs. There is something about the taste of dead air that sends a ripple down the spine. The sound of his uneven steps seemed to echo through the space.

Finally, Toran could see a faint orb of light ahead of him. He had reached the bottom. He took his hands away from the walls and walked toward the light, putting complete trust in the floor alone.

He reached the torch and gazed around. Toran was in the main room with numerous columns that had torches mounted on all sides. They were enough to see by but were useless from there. The light was flickering constantly sending shadows everywhere.

Toran gazed at the flickering on the wall but wasn't really paying attention. He tuned his ears away from the slight crackle of the flames and in the direction of the stairs.

A shuffle.

Toran stood completely still, angry with himself for coming directly into the light. He looked around the room with only his eyes, slowly gazing into the dim.

Curse these shadows! He thought to himself, it was impossible to see movement when the flames were jumping around, dancing and laughing at him on their own. They looked like fairies chattering, mystics running, spiders crawling and -

"Goblins." Toran said barely above a whisper, his eyes trained on a shadow on the wall. One that wasn't flickering.

The room erupted with cries, screams from the foul creatures. They charged him, arms forward and yellow claws extended. Without a moment of hesitation, Toran pulled the sword from the loop at his side and swung, cleanly cutting through two of the beasts. Their green blood splattered and more rushed forth.

There's so many. Toran thought as he took steps backward, slashing madly. The goblins before him fell. The debris of arms, legs, heads, and bodies littered the ground. Moans of pain and fury echoed through the dank expanse.

Too many... The knight whirled behind a post only to leap to another one as it came crashing down. He jabbed madly at the onslaught but they were unphased, simply stepping over the bodies of their dead. Toran grabbed a torch from a post, gave one more large slash, then turned and ran.

Howls of triumph followed behind him as he spirited through one of the many hallways. The basement of the Cathedral was nothing more than a maze of rooms and halls. Toran knew his way and quickly turned corners, keeping the torch low and in front of him for light.

His chest heaved and his feet pounded on the compacted dirt floor as he rapidly weaved through the halls. The sound of the goblins cries faded as he outran them. Soon they were nothing more than confused echoes and he twirled into a small room, attempting to catch his breath.

"So much for a surprise." Toran said, clenching his hand into a fist around the torch. Surely anyone inside the Cathedral heard the noise, even some outside were likely to have. He shook his head and jammed his sword into its loop.

Where did those goblins come from? The knight thought, thinking over his approach. He had been so careful and was certain that nothing was following him. Yet how could one manage to evad his detection? How could one hundred? The thoughts baffled him.

Goblins did not live in the Cathedral, its a wonder they came inside at all for an attack. There was something about the faith and holiness of a place like this that most unpure creatures avoided. Why did these follow? Why did they attack without provoke?

Toran's breathing had by then slowed to almost normal, but his heart still leapt in his throat. He had never experienced something like this and as much as he hated to admit it, it scared him. Whoever sent the message must have employed the goblins to kill him.

Toran listening to the stillness outside in the hallway. He made to turn and exit the room but something flashed against the light of the torch. His interest high, he moved toward it and slowly pieces of metal were illuminated. It was armor.

The knight's eyes looked down at his attire, nothing more than thick leather, already cut in places by the goblins claws. He knew he was lucky and if he was attacked again they would get a good piece of him. But the armor might protect him.

Without another moment of hesitation he leaned the torch against the wall and quickly slipped on the chest armor and strapped on the rest. He then picked up the torch, checked to see that this sword was still at his side and proceeded quietly out the door. The armor was noisier than he liked, but the weight on his shoulders gave him the confidence he needed.

He navigated the halls from memory, turning corners with caution and hiding the light to all others except himself as best he could. His goal was to reach the center of the level, where there would be a small room with stairs. He would push open the trap door at the top and he would be right in the main room. If someone was waiting for him, they would be there.

Toran's sword lightly clanked against the armor as he walked briskly, turning down yet another hallway. His hearing was on high alert; everything echoed and he could hear grunts far down the passage. Toran knew that he was only a few rooms away the one he was searching for when he stopped, his heart skipping a beat. He felt like his blood was frozen in his veins as he felt it.

The light brush of the wind.

An involuntary shudder racked Toran. It was the wind, but there were no windows down there, the only opening was where he had entered. That and the secret trap door.

His heart pounded in his chest as he felt it again. The cool breeze lifted his sweat-soaked hair mere millimeters off the back of his neck, causing his skin to prickle. The torch's light flickered under the wind. Torans's breathing swayed and he lifted a foot. He had to keep moving. He no longer wanted to find who sent for him. He simply wanted out of the Cathedral.

Toran moved his foot forward and set it down on the ground in front of him. A huge gust of wind blew his hair around him and the torch went out.

The unmistakable sound of a goblin's snarl echoed just a small ways behind him.

Toran put his hands out in front of him and ran forward, completely blind.

He was no longer worried about making noise, his armor clashing around. He used only his sense of touch, feeling along the slime-coated walls. Searching for the doorway that was only a few rooms down.

His breath came in gasps as he counted aloud the number of doors he came to in the wall. He had already passed two when the torch went out and he knew the room was eight doors down. He had six more yet to pass.

"One." He said as his hand went through a space that the wall should have been. His legs trembling he skimmed his hand along the wall until he came to the next one.

"Two."

The sound of goblin's footsteps came rushing toward him. They had the ability to see in the dark.

"Three."

Another gust of wind funneled its way powerfully through the hall, attempting to push Toran back. He moved forward, clenching his teeth and leaning on the wall until he almost fell through the next opening.

"Four."

He didn't care about the message anymore, Curse whoever sent him. If he found the messenger, he would bid them good evening. He had little use for them anymore.

"Five."

"No you won't." A whisper echoed through the air, swaying Toran on his feet. The wind was coming constantly now and the words flew to him, surrounding his mind. He would get the message before leaving. Whether he liked it or not.

"Six."

Toran stumbled into the room. He knew the only thing in it was a flight of steps no more than two feet wide in the center of the room with no railings. It was hard enough to climb with a light but Toran would have to do it blind.

He fell to his hands and knees, crawling along on the floor until he touched the stone steps. Using his hands and ignoring the growing cries of the goblins he crawled up the steps and pushed at the trapdoor above him.

It refused to open.

"No!" He cried, shoving all his force against it. It moved slightly. With one last grunting force he was able to lift the door and leap through.

Instantly he was greeted by the light of the setting sun blaring through the huge stained glass windows. Toran staggered back, blinking against its harsh tones. He regained his balance and shoved the trapdoor back in place before looking around.

The room was empty.

Relief washed over Toran and he quickly made his way over to the closest set of doors. He reached for the handle when he suddenly noticed something hanging on the wall.

There was a tapestry added to the Cathedral's collection. Despite his urgency to leave, Toran felt his eyes moving to the wall hanging. Seemingly against his will, he moved toward it. It was not a picture, but words and icons. They were intricately sewn and if Toran didn't know better he would have thought they were directions.

Toran's eyes grew wide as he read and the realization rushed upon him. "The Tapestry of Illume." He whispered and the cunning sound of laughter sounded through the room.

Toran turned around to find that he was still the only one there.

The knight was torn between indecision. He should leave now, but here before him was the Tapestry of Illume. Should he steal it and make his way back to the king? Or should he leave it and just go?

Or should I take it and use it for myself? Toran thought, turning back to the wall hanging. His eyes gleamed and the thought of living forever returned to him. The greed he felt while working with Dredican came rushing back.

He reached up toward the tapestry.

The instant that his hands touched the material, it flew from his hands, over his head and careened to the center of the floor. Toran wheeled around. Just above where the tapestry had landed, the unmistakable form of an angel floated above it. He had long white robes and flowing blonde hair. In his hand was a long, white horn.

Toran moved toward the angel, his eyes wide. There was an angel before him. He took in the way it floated, the soft glow that surrounded it. Pale skin and a heavenly tone about every part of it. Awed, Toran dropped to one knee inches away from the tapestry. He looked up toward the angel's eyes.

To find them black.

Toran felt his entire body shake as he stared into the lifeless eyes that did not belong in the angel.

"You have a message." He said, but the lips did not move. Toran could not tear his gaze away from the angel and it continued on. He raised its horn and put it to his mouth.

"You did not come here for immortality." The knight didn't flinched as the tapestry burst into flames. The angel gazed into him and he felt as if he was being burned from the inside out. He didn't realize he was raising his sword to the angel until he was before him. The tip pointed straight up and Toran could feel the damp on his cheeks from tears he didn't know he was crying.

The angel rose a little higher and goblins appeared on all sides of the room. They stood motionless, gazing at the scene before them.

All was still as the angel finished the message.

"You came here to die."

With one great, roaring cry the goblins rushed upon the knight.

---

This was written for "Invalid Item"