Illara Chronicles: Swordplay

The Bladeward

Taldren trudged down the stairs, half asleep. He was already far below the castle, and he had much further yet to go.

What happens when a construction captain gets addicted to building stairs? He mused to himself. Every day had been bad since they arrived at Haven Helm, but he'd just started the worst yet, and she was going to make it so much worse.

He fiddled with the dread siphon that he took with him everywhere. Even wrapped in a stone dragon as it was, the dull red gem seemed unremarkable. All this trouble over a red rock.

He'd arrived, finally at a plain steel door. He didn't slow as he approached, and it slid out of his way on its own and let him into a too bright room lit by sconces of white fire. It reeked like rust even though all of the metal surfaces shined. Books filled all of the wall space where there wasn't some ridiculous looking contraption, or an operating table, or a seat for some research obsessed frog splitter.

Waiting for him, was Nihar, the fish elf hybrid creature that now ran the research center where she was created. Her long sharp ears poked through hair so dark that it looked green, and her pale skin had the faintest blue tint. She wore round glasses over her eyes that were, like her delicate lips, a soft pink colour, like pig skin. Most would consider her pretty, despite her being short and shapeless. Most. "You're late. Place the siphon into the receptacle." The irritation in Nihars voice made it sound less infuriating, but Taldren would still rather listen to a sword split a stone.

He threw the siphon, and it bounced and skidded into the dimple at the center of the round table in the middle of the room. "Good morning Taldren." He mocked. "Thank you so much for walking the hall of endless stairs to join me in my awful lab at the stinking center of this light forsaken land. Is there anything we can do to make the experience less of a nightmare?" He'd already started to strip to small shorts, and took his place against a metal board that sat against the far wall at an angle for subjects to lie against.

"You're in a better mood than usual. Did you get good news?" She grinned a knowing grin, with her eyes on the dread siphon. She held up a gloved hand, and the purple jewels on the knuckles glowed. The same glow began at the handle of a pointed silver rod on its rack, which promptly flew through the air into her waiting hand. She held it like a pencil and traced shapes through the air like a bad orchestra conductor until a dome of blue light glittered into existence over the siphon. "You're too thin to be much of a warrior. Your friends are probably glad that you're safe here, out of their way." Nihar patted him on his head of raven hair, as her assistants strapped him down. The gills on either side of her neck flittered. Smug.

He made his eyes cold, and dead, but seethed beneath the surface as Nihar carefully painted circles on either side of his jaw, all across his torso, and legs. "It is highly improbable that any of your idiosyncratic troupe should fall into peril beneath the sharp-witted command of the stalwart Sir Merinald."

Taldren furrowed his brow, as he untangled the reassurance. He was on the cusp on thanking her, but wasn't confident that idio-whatever wasn't an insult. "What makes you think that anything is going to happen this time?" He asked instead. "Don't you and your lab rats have anything better to prod at?"

"I think technically speaking, in this case, you are my lab rat..." She completed connecting the circles, "...and no. The Crown was clear that understanding your relationship to this device, and emulating the suppressing effect that you have on it is of utmost importance..." She placed a wooden bar between his teeth. "My theory is that the king would like to store this dangerous ancient relic somewhere safer than the pocket of a muttonheaded fool. Bite down."

Taldren tightened his jaw.

Nihar snapped her fingers, and electricity leapt from her hand into Taldren. His body tensed as it coursed through him. She kept a careful eye on the dread siphon for a long moment before ending the surge. Taldren spat the wooden bar at her, and let his head hang.. "An increasingly indifferent response to physical pain...interesting..." She mused, and took notes over the sound of his pained panting.