UMBRIEL

1. Old Habits Die Hard

It was a somewhat stormy night, and the rain beat down densely on the windows of their small log cabin, nearly drowning out the crackling sound of their meager fire. Nivik stoked the flames, determined to squeeze out every ounce of warmth that he could from the damp, wet logs.

Kora walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Hey there, Umbi', dinner's ready." She said happily.

He sighed, '"I asked you not to call me that," he responded, "that's not my name." He set the fire poker against the charred brick fireplace, and stood up, facing his wife. He rested his hands on her hips and stared into her eyes.

"Why not? Is it really so bad?" She inquired, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Umbriel is a wonderful name to have." He had never opened up to her about the practices of his tribe, and the rite they had to perform when they completed their training as sword mages.

He smiled reassuringly, "Don't worry about it. All you need to know is that the name that they gave me is not who I am." He patted her on the head and chuckled, walking away towards the table.

She followed him, sitting across from him at the table. As he took a drink of his water she spoke, "I like it though, I think it's a pretty name."

Nivik swallowed his drink, "You obviously don't realize what it means then. They gave me that name for a reason, not just because it was pretty."

"What was it then?" She pressed. Kora curved forward, eager to hear more about her husband's past.

He leaned back in his chair, and opened his mouth to speak, "We've talked about this, I don't-" he cut himself off. "Wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She gave him a look of concern.

"There's someone circling the house." Nivik stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He picked up and gripped the poker with both hands. He edged slowly towards the door as the knob twitched ever so slightly. All of a sudden, the door burst open, and four men rushed in, hitting Nivik over the head with a wooden club. He tumbled to the ground, his head hitting the stone floor. The last thing he heard before fading into the darkness was his wife screaming his name in terror.

He awoke only minutes later. The room was empty, and the door to the bedroom was closed. The table they were just sitting at was thrown on its side, chairs toppled over. Light from the fire gave the otherwise dark room an ominous glow.

His heart sank, but only for a moment. Immediately he was filled with rage, grabbing the poker from the floor and stood up. The only thought going through his head was the desire to bludgeon the group of men into a fine, red paste. Before he could get to his feet, a hard leather boot smashed into his stomach, dropping him to his hands and knees.

"What've we got 'ere, eh?" A gross, fat man peered down at him, a smug grin plastered across his face. "What was that? You wanted to go save yer' precious little wife, huh?" He laughed, finding himself hilarious.

Nivik spoke, "If you've so much as touched her-" The man gave him another swift kick, this one to the face. It left Nivik dazed, and unable to get his bearings. The ugly man grabbed him by the horns and began dragging him toward the bedroom.

"You wanna see your wife, huh? Fine, see her." He threw Nivik through the door, landing against the bedpost. He looked up, they had Kora tied to the bedposts and had been beating her with anything they could find, trying to break her so that she could no longer fight back.

Her once silky hair was now matted with drying blood, the left side of her face swelling up to form a nasty purple bruise. Kora's breath was ragged and hoarse.