Tales of the Five Nations 1-Scarblade

Chapter 13-Everything Goes Wrong

"It's nice to see you again, Alban."

"It won't be nice for much longer," she hissed, creating a Fireball in her hand, ready to throw.

"Whoah, calm it down now," Callidus said calmly but sarcastically. "I mean no harm."

"Where's the rest of your crew?"

Callidus pointed to the doorway of the tent, and said in his cold, clear, and precise voice, "They're gathering people from their tents, and some are guarding your tent—that way if you decide to run away, they can...persuade you not to do so." He smiled as he said the last words.

"How would they persuade me not to run away when you're in the same room as I am?"

Callidus put his hand on his heart and pretended to be offended. "Alban, I'm so heartbroken."

Alban made the Fire in her hand grow. "And why are you here? What do you need me for?"

"Well, we need you for many things. It'd be best if you just come quietly with me," Callidus suggested.

"And if I don't?"

"It could get bad really fast," Callidus said, walking up to her. She threw the Fire and a shield made of Ice emerged out of his hands. The Fireball melted a hole in it, and Callidus absorbed the Ice shield back into his long-fingered hands. "I wouldn't try that again, if I were you."

Alban backed away, and Callidus walked closer and grabbed her hand, and she tried heating up.

"Don't even try," he said, squeezing her hand so hard that it turned red. She jerked her hand away, which was a bad idea. Callidus jerked it back, sending her entire body flying towards him. "You're coming with me."

His face was so close to Alban's that the tips of their noses were touching. He held her hand tighter, and her eyes started to water. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"But you are—whether you decide to or not."

She stomped the ground, and little balls of Fire came flying from the ground, surrounding them. She called them forth with her other hand, and Callidus ducked as the Fire flew into Alban's face. Being immune to her own Fire, she was fine, but running out of ideas. Her head couldn't process anything—she was too scared.

She tried to punch him, but then found herself on her knees with her hands tied behind her back. She heated up her hands, attempting to burn off the rope. Then she felt ice-cold hands touch hers, getting colder and colder until her hands started to hurt. But Callidus only made his hands colder until Alban started to yell, "PLEASE, STOP!" Tears of fear and pain rolled down her face, and Callidus' hands left hers, and then returned, at normal temperature. It didn't matter, anyway: Alban's hands were so freezing they were numb.

He crouched down in front of her and pulled out a vial filled with a black liquid: pure Death Weed juice. "I don't think we want to use this today, do we?"

Alban shook her head, and he smiled. "Good. And I'm assuming that you know what this is, then?"

She nodded, and he put his cold hand on her chin. "I know how to use this in small amounts, which can cause a whole lot of pain—and other things."

Alban raised her eyebrows. "Really? Because I know how to use it in small amounts, too."

He brought his hand up and smacked her face. Not hard, but enough to make someone quiet for a little while.

"Last I saw, your hands were tied behind your back. Now, do you walk out of here with me? Or do you want me to drag you out of here after a little bit of this?" He shook the bottle in front of her, taking off the cork and putting the cap near her nose, which smelled temptingly sweet—another thing about Death Weed. Alban turned her head away.