The Baron Chronicles

First story!

 

Clash of Winds

 

he cold little mouth of a winter night nipped at Max’s nose. His cloak was wrapped tightly around him, woven of a thin soft fabric that yet provided all the warmth of a few blankets together. Its color was shown to be green in the flickering rays of the fire, with the insignia of a Royal Guard of Loria upon the back.

Halfbreed of man and elf, Max lacked the pointed ears and the knifelike sharp features of his Loria brethren. Indeed, the fire showed his features mostly came from his human side, besides his grey eyes. His grey eyes were deep and filled with emotion. Loving, caring, gentle, filled with gladness; yet determined, loyal, alert, with sparks of fierce protection.

Tall trees loomed about them, shadows dwelt between them, occasionally chased away by a strong flicker of the fire.

Despite the cold, and despite emanate danger, Max was smiling as a little she-elf rattled on about nothing in particular next to him. Her green eyes practically glowed, and the firelight sparkled off of the delicate threads of silver and gold interwoven into her braided hair.

Across from them was the quiet figure of a he-elf, with a tiny bird nestled up to him asleep.

A twig snapped in the darkness. Max tensed like a snake ready to strike, a wind rising strongly about him, teasing the fire.  Fen called from the shadows, “Tehteh, Maxwell.” Max relaxed, the wind dissipating.

“Has Tren returned?” Fen took a drink of water, wiping the stray droplets from his overly pointed chin, pointy even for a he-elf.

Max shook his head. “We’re still waiting for him.”

Fen looked troubled, staring into the crescent moon. “The moon has risen; the Bloodsilver will come soon. Hopefully they send that foolish Fire Wielder. If the Silver Streak himself comes…” Fen’s face was grave.

The Silver Streak had claimed the lives of many: kings, princes, ambassadors, politicians, generals, even other assassins. To be in power was to be at risk of meeting your end at the hand of the Bloodsilver’s greatest assassin. The worst part: The Silver Streak never missed his target. Only once did one ever escape, and that was when the Silver Streak made his first appearance. Many times, the assassin’s target was dead before anyone knew what happened, and leaving the scene would be a line of silver, said to be his hair glistening in the light of the moon.

Max’s smile waned, his eyes looking concernedly at Princess Eldia, who had stopped her chatter. “I wish we could have set out when the moon was full, or on a Bandit’s Moon.”

Fen nodded. “That would have been preferable.”

“But then he would have found me at that little quant inn as we waited for such a moon!” Eldia smiled, speaking as if she were talking about going on a picnic. “You’ve done what Father wanted! He will be proud of you, Max!”

Max smiled. “Thank you. I try.”

“Who would think that the King would trust a halfbreed with his daughter,” Fen mumbled.

“Max is wonderful!” Eldia cried exultantly, her sharp ears picking up Fen’s mumbles. “He is so good and kind and he tames the wind better than many an elf! You should be quiet, Fen. In a battle between the two of you, he would win, you know. He could blow your fire out with a mere flick of his hand!”

“I do not doubt Maxwell’s abilities, my Princess,” Fen bowed. “I merely was mentioning how rare it is for a halfbreed to be so greatly trusted.”

Eldia suddenly stiffened. “Tren is in trouble!” She cried. “I can hear him calling out to the earth. He asks for Fireweed!”

A mixture of relief and alarm spread over Max, Fen, and the quiet elf; relief that if Tren called for Fireweed, it meant it was the Fire Wielder who had come, not the Silver Streak. Alarm that the hour had come.

“Where is Flumena?” Max peered at the Princess.

The pine trees about them rustled their branches despite the absence of wind, speaking in their harsh tongue as Eldia closed her eyes and listened. “Water-friend quenches flame,” The Princess replied, repeating the message from the trees. “Our Friend tells our Princess to flee.”

The quiet elf rose, the little bird still nestled against his neck. “The animals cry fire.” Sorrow rang in his voice for his little friends.

“So do the plants, my dear Case. Call them to safety, and ask one of your friends to find a large acorn nestled at the root of a pine tree. A little girl placed it there, and the trees wish it to grow up tall,” Suddenly Eldia lost her childish ring, becoming serious and commanding like the daughter of the Loria King that she was.

Case nodded solemnly as four great elk appeared from the shadows of the trees, saddles upon their backs. Fen quenched the fire.

Max helped Princess Eldia mount a slim black one, with a neat and glistening coat, Fen and Case mounted theirs, and Max had half swung into the saddle when he felt it. Someone had called upon the wind, charmed it, and now sped the direction of the Princess. But how could this be? Max was the only wind elemental of the group. It could not be one of their party, and the Fire Wielder had no wind.

Oh! What did it matter? A mysterious Wind Charmer was speeding towards Max’s charge!

Max called upon the wind as well, leaving his elk and speeding between the Princess and the mysterious being. There was a flash of silver, and a stab of pain in Max’s shoulder.

The Silver Streak had come.

Dread seeped into even Eldia’s young elven heart. Fear gripped Fen and Case, fear that even their steeds felt.

The Streak had collided with Max, his knife with which he planned to kill the Princess embedded in the halfbreed’s shoulder. “Run! Get out of here!” Max called out as he grabbed the Streak. “I will hold him. If they sent two after the Princess, they may have sent more to deal with us!”

Case gave the command and elk’s outlines in the soft moonlight disappeared into the darkness.

The Streak gave a cry as they disappeared, pulling himself free from Max’s grip. Using the wind, he sped after the Princess, but Max sped after him, catching up, and pushing the Streak into a tree. With a grunt, the thin form with spidery legs tumbled to the ground, before getting up and trying again. All he gained from his second attempt was a face full of dirt. There was no way Max would let him get near Eldia. So the Streak is a Wind Charmer, no wonder he could get to his victims and be gone so quickly!

The Streak spoke as he rose from the ground. “I guess I must fight you, fellow Wind Charmer.” The Streak’s monotony voice surprised Max. He expected a more angry and annoyed tone; Max had prevented him from getting to his target.

“My name is Max. If you pledge not to harm Princess Eldia and go back to the Bloodsilver, there will be no need to fight.”

“I am Baron, and I pledge to kill Princess Eldia.” Baron rushed upon Max, his light hair glistening in the moonlight, trying to land a kick in his stomach, but Max dodged, knocking Baron off-balance and grappling him in a choke hold. They fell to the forest floor, Baron reaching up and pulling the knife from Max’s shoulder. Max gave a cry of pain, his hold loosening. Baron slipped out, stepping back, before trying the charge with the knife. After Max avoided the stab and almost had Baron secured a second time, Baron pulled back, realizing that in hand-to-hand combat, Max would dominate him.

Baron put away the knife, calling upon a strong wind. Max did the same and their two winds collided with shuddering force that flooded through both Wind Charmers. They strove against each other, both trying to outdo the other’s strength, for the stronger wind, they knew, would be the triumphant winner.

As Max tried to call upon more wind, it felt as though his arms would collapse. He had not clashed with another Wind Charmer like this since his training days. He glanced at his opponent, who was shaking as he tried to control the power of the wind. Max couldn’t tell if he himself was shaking from the power of the wind or from the fear of losing and not being able to protect Eldia. Besides, Max always slightly shook.

The trees’ needles thrashed violently around them, the very trees themselves almost seemed to be leaning away. The plants were uprooted and carried away. The leaf litter went dancing, and the dirt kicked into the air. Both men’s eyes began to fill with tears as they were bombarded with debris. Max’s shoulder stung as dirt entered the wound and his wind weakened. Baron gained the upper hand, blowing Max back into a tree trunk. Max gave a shout as he collided, his wind further failing for an instant. He was losing. No! No, he couldn’t lose! Eldia’s life was on the line! If he lost here, she would most likely die. He would probably be killed too. Max did not fear death, but at the thought the vision of blue eyes clouded with tears entered his mind. Of a weeping young woman pulling two darling children to her breast as she cried. At the vision, Max’s resolve doubled, and his own wind blew Baron into another tree. The wind dissipated, and the enemies caught their breath as they leaned against the trunks of the trees.

Looking over at Baron, Max noticed that his nose was bleeding profusely, a trickle that glistened in the pale silvery light as it fell down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. His arms were twitching weirdly, sometimes appearing almost mangled.

“Are you okay?” Max asked. Baron was his enemy, but Baron was also another being made in the Creator’s image, because of this, worry seeped into Max’s grey eyes.

“Care about yourself. Having compassion is a weakness,” came the emotionless reply, along with a gust of wind, not as powerful as before, but still enough to knock Max back. The two exchanged these weaker blows for a moment as they both continued to catch their breath.

Once recovered, Max roused another strong wind, disrupting the forest again as he once more clashed with Baron. But this time, Baron was clearly neither fully recovered from the first great gust, nor okay. He was obviously in pain as he held Max off.

“Promise to not hurt Eldia and you may go!” Max yelled over the roar of the tumultuous forest.

“No!”

“You are hurt, you have lost your strength! You can still survive this!”

“Never!”

“Very well then, but remember, you were the one who asked for this!”

Max blew Baron back, before calling upon the wind again, but this time in a different way than before. He was lifted off of the ground as his cloak tangled around his legs, a whirlwind forming around his body.  Leaves and dirt joined the wind, swirling around Max.

Baron watched in awe, unsure how he should counter-attack.

Before Baron could do anything, Max unleashed the whirlwind, throwing Baron back into the forest. A shout of pain ripped the sky as Baron hit a large rock. The wind unwound itself, its job accomplished. Baron lay still on the ground, consciousness threatening to leave him.

Max untangled his cloak, walking over and standing above Baron, victor.

“Faren!” The Streak cried out suddenly.

Max turned his head quickly as a blast of fire hit him from the side. With a shout, Max fell back. He shed his burning cloak and snuffed the flames on his shirt. His right shoulder was now burned, but that was the least of Max’s worries. The Flame Wielder had come as well. He stood between Max and Baron, his eyes a piercing cold blue. He also had light hair, but it was a blond, and did not shine like Baron’s.

Max’s heart sunk. Two opponents now. Though, Baron was coughing blood, so Max doubted he would help his companion. But just as his heart sunk, the cloaked elven forms of Flumena and Tren showed through the trees. Realizing the state of Baron and knowing he couldn’t afford to continue to fight the elves, Faren swooped Baron up into his arms and fled into the shadows. Flumena and Tren halted where Max stood, breathing hard. Tren was limping, with part of his fair elven face marred by a burn. Parts of his clothes were singed, and he looked as though any moment he would collapse. Flumena held barely a scratch.

“Max! You’re hurt too! How bad? Can I leave Tren with you and pursue the Fire Wielder?” She spoke quickly, without taking in a breath.

Max nodded, sitting down against a tree. Tren was laid next to him and Flumena ran on as fast as she could manage.

 

Two days later

A tear traveled down Baron’s cheek. He lay among the warm sheets of a bed, pain wracking his body. Princess Eldia lived. Baron had failed his mission.

“I’m sorry, Father. I failed.” Another tear broke free from his lids.

The figure at his bedside put a warm hand on Baron’s cold cheek. “You did what you could, Baron. Do not think about it now, reprimand will come when you are better,” A calming voice, lulling Baron.

Baron nodded slowly, falling back into the comforts of Sleep.

 

“Mama! Daddy’th home!” Little Simeon came running to his mother, his little blond curls bouncing. The widest smile, a smile just like his father’s, was upon his face. Ruby set aside her embroidery with excitement, hoisting baby Esther onto her hip. She, Simeon, and Esther rushed into the next room, where Max stood just inside the doorway. His grey eyes were alight with gladness to be home, his smile ear to ear.

“Max!” Ruby cried, rushing to him with tears pricking her eyes. As she pulled him in for a kiss and hug, she saw him wince. Stepping back, she eyed him, seeing the white of bandages peeking slightly from under his shirt. “Are you hurt?” She asked. Concern flooded into her blue eyes.

Max continued to smile. “Only slightly,” he replied with a small nod to the side with his head. Ruby knew from the expression in his eyes the truth.

The evening for the little family was spent in rejoicing at Max’s return, along with Ruby constantly asking if Max was truly okay and if he was comfortable. Max assured her, time and time again, that everything was fine, that he was with his family and that was all the medicine he needed, but his stubborn wife would not be satisfied. Max laughed as Ruby playfully scolded him for not taking care of himself again.

Princess Eldia was safe, and while a couple were injured, not one of her guards had died, and Max was with his family again. Even if he was in pain, he was content and happy as he watched baby Esther play on the floor and Simeon chatter on about all the things he had discovered in the woods yesterday. When Ruby carefully settled down next to him, planted a kiss on his cheek, and took his hand, his happiness was complete.

@keilah-h

Glad you liked it

 

BTW did you re-use the names Fen and Tren from that one RP we had a while back ago?

Lol, you noticed. Yes, I did.

@keilah-h @ellette-giselle

The second story

The Silver Streak

Sparkling gems set in a vast darkness, with a single marvelous pearl hung upon nothing.  In the soft bed of short blades of grass, two young boys, about ten, lay upon a hilltop.

“Isn’t the night beautiful, Baron?” Faren asked his friend with youthful excitement. The cold gaze of his eyes under the tips of his blond hair had not yet come. He was bright. He was cheery. He was untouched by his adult self.

“No, not really,” Came the monotone drone of his friend’s voice. The voice of a child with no childhood.

Faren’s features changed in surprise. “How can you say that? It’s beautiful! The stars are so twinkly, and the moon so, so silverfish! It’s beautiful!”

“The moon is too silverfish,” Baron replied with a small tone of disappointment and annoyance. “I can’t go kill that ambassador tonight. Father will order someone else to do it.” Little Baron crossed his arms, his usually white hair like a beacon of silver. In the child’s disappointment, the wind was cast across the grass.

From a young age, Baron had killed. Taken in from the streets half-dead by the leader of the Bloodsilver, who he only knew as ‘Father’, he had been trained to use his Wind Charmer ability to become a deadly assassin.

For thirteen years, Baron was the greatest assassin of the Bloodsilver, until his world began to shift because of one little girl, a child so innocent; too innocent to understand the full, heavy weight of the sins that Baron had committed. Her sweet, dimpled smile plagued his mind and the words she had uttered played in his memory: “You’re a hero, aren’t you?”

No, no he was not a hero! He was an assassin for the Bloodsilver! He hunted people, he hunted people and then killed them. He was no hero, he was a murderer, with blood dripping from his hands.

He had always known, but the fact never bothered him. It was merely an undertone in the back of his mind, buried deep inside. But he never cared to be more than he was before, he even enjoyed his profession in a way…but then a little girl asked if he was a hero, but then a little girl trusted him, but then an innocent little girl followed him to her doom without once doubting him. But then a little girl shattered his stone resolve.

A tiny little girl began chipping away at his stone resolve with five simple words. Five. Baron shouted in frustration, punching the wall. Years, years of death, years of blood, and not one tinge of remorse, not one inkling of a tear. But now, his mind was cracking apart, ripping itself to shreds over five simple words and one evil deed done to the one who spoke those five words.

For whatever reason, there was a longing in his soul, a longing that he could have said “yes” to her with a truthful heart. That he could be a virtuous man, a good man. But there was no way that that longing could be fulfilled, not with his sins!

Baron’s head fell into his hands, his fingertips digging into the roots of his hair. Here he remained in silence, chest heaving in distress.

A light knock on the door to his room. His head jerked up. “Who is it? What do you want?”

“Your Father to see you, Sir Baron.”

“Very well. I will go to him in a minute.”

“Yes, sir Baron.”

Baron looked in the mirror. His hair was uncombed, his eyes underlined with dark circles. He ran a comb through his hair quickly, and pulled on his old leather jacket. There was nothing to be done about the circles underneath his eyes; he had nothing to hide them.

Baron knocked and entered his Father’s quarters. The ceiling was two stories high, and the room fit its grand ceiling with stain glass windows and exquisite decoration. It was almost as if someone had made a small version of a cathedral to be made into a dwelling place. There was no lighting other than from the windows and a fire, making the room light enough to see but still dark.

Baron knelt. “You sent for me.”

“Yes, Baron,” Came the calming voice. “Stand up, let me look at you.”

Baron stood, facing the man. His Father was a tall man, and though he was much older than Baron, showed no signs of being beyond the brightest bloom of age. He had a handsome face, and his long hair, which touched the top of his shoulders, and which was a dark color rare to see in the country of Albandra, was neatly brushed and displayed. His eyes were a blue, not a disturbingly bright blue, but a calming shade. Paired with his voice, it made it hard to believe that this man was the cold-blooded leader of the Bloodsilver. “Have you not been sleeping well, Baron? You look tired and pale.” His voice showed great concern for his son, his assassin. “Come, sit with me.” Father motioned with his pale hand towards two masterfully embroidered upholstered chairs by a well-tended fireplace.

Baron curled into one of the chairs like he did as a child. Though he was much taller than when he was a child, he was always skinny and more flexible than the average person. He found he could still curl up in the chair, and trace the embroidery with his fingers.

Father smiled kindly as Baron did this, sitting in his own chair normally. “Tell me, Baron, have you been feeling alright?”

Baron turned his attention to Father, his finger pausing in its path around a flower. “I’m fine, I’m just…slightly troubled.”

“Troubled about what?”

“The little girl, Rya. I can’t forget about her. I’ve tried, but I can’t.” Baron turned his face away, tracing the flower again.

The man listened with a grave expression. “Maybe another mission would help you to forget the last one. It is the reason I called you.”

Baron halted on a leaf, his green eyes turning back to Father. “Who is my target?” He asked with curiosity.

“A defector.” Father brought up a knee toward his chin, with his foot resting on the edge of the seat. He interlaced his fingers, laying them on his knee. “He had made a deal with the government. They offer him protection, he testifies against us. You will strike tomorrow night, as he goes to bed in his guarded house. Faren will go with you to take care of the guards. What do you think, Baron?”

Baron’s heart lurched inside of him. No! Baron didn’t want to kill anymore! He had taken enough lives! But he couldn’t deny Father. “I can take him,” Baron replied emotionlessly, with no outward sign of his troubles.

“Good, that is my boy. You will be briefed tomorrow. For now, I want you to go back to your chambers and sleep. You need your rest.”

Baron nodded. “Yes, Father.” He uncurled himself, standing. Upon leaving his Father’s quarters, he called upon a servant to bring a sleeping potion.

As the drowsiness began to overtake him, he mumbled quietly, “One last time, then I walk away forever.” He could kill for Father once more, he could do what he had always done just once more, and then he would ask Father if he could retire from his position of assassin. Maybe then Baron would find peace of mind. So his mind reasoned, but his heart knew, it had known the whole time, he would have to betray Father and walk away from the Bloodsilver completely if he wanted to find peace.

 

The moon’s rays filtered through the window, shining silver in Baron’s hair. His blade, also glinting in the moon’s soft gaze, was pressed against a man’s neck, as he lay quivering in his bed, too scared to shout. The look of pure terror made Baron halt. A million thoughts flashed through his mind, but he gritted his teeth, with the whisper, “One last time,” and slit the man’s throat. Blood splattered on his clothes and hands. Another life he had taken, another soul ascended into the afterlife because of him. Baron sheathed his knife, and called upon the wind. He sped out of the window, no more than a silver streak as he crossed the countryside. Looking back, he saw Faren, another son of Father, slaughtering the men who were protecting Baron’s hit.

So much death. So many souls to leave the mortal world and never return. Maybe some of them were like Faren and Baron, deserving of death, but what if some of them were actually good people? With families, with wives and children, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers. It was all so wrong.

Baron’s thoughts wouldn’t leave him. They continued to plague him. Suddenly, a thought came to his mind. Once, he had fought another Wind Charmer, named Max. A good man. A royal guard of Loria. Baron could seek him out, and ask what he should do. Max would help him, he had tried to help him even as they fought. Baron told Father he was going to travel the countryside for a few days, to breath in the air and forget his troubles. Then, he left.

When he returned, his troubles were not yet forgotten. He had hoped that his mind would be less troubled after seeing Max, but he was wrong.

“Rya asked if you were a hero. Be one for her. Walk away from the Bloodsilver, rescuing Rya as you do so. Then, ask Immanuel for forgiveness for the blood you have spilled. Those are the first steps in the path you must take.”

The words of Max’s wife, words that now pounded in Baron’s mind like Rya’s question.

Baron had always known it’d eventually come to leaving the Bloodsilver, betraying Father, but facing the reality was almost unbearable. He would betray Father and Faren, Father who had been so kind to him, and Faren who had been a brother. But to not leave would mean suffering. The easiest way out for Baron was suicide, but if he died, Rya would probably never be rescued. He was her hope for a beautiful life. Father would probably turn her into a killer like Baron, or just kill her. Both Baron couldn’t stand the thought of. For two nights, he failed to get any sleep without a sleeping potion, until finally he made up his mind. He would do the right thing, and save Rya. For how could he stand by?

He called upon a servant, asking the whereabouts of Rya. Learning that she was in the basement of the house in cell five, he asked for a key. The next day, he descended the many stairs into the basement of his Father’s large house, where prisoners were kept. In cell five, he found the little sleeping form of a girl with long silver hair.

“Rya, Rya, wake up.” He shook her gently. The girl stirred, sat up, and yawned. Opening her eyes, she saw Baron kneeling before her.

“Baron? What are you here for?”

“I came to take you away from this place, to somewhere where you’ll be happy.”

Rya threw her arms around his neck. “I knew you were a hero!”

Baron gave a small smile. “Come, we must hurry.” He stood, taking Rya by the hand and running out of the basement. Baron was careful not to kill anyone he came across. He would call upon the wind, and with a swipe of his hand, blow any man who stood in their way against the wall, knocking them unconscious.

They only had to reach outside. Once outside the front door, Baron could call a strong wind, and carry both he and Rya to safety. No one in the Bloodsilver would be able to catch up once they were outside.

But upon coming to the front door, Faren stood in his way. The Fire Wielder’s cold blue eyes looked at Baron full in the face. “I knew you would betray us. Just thoughts, eh? Thoughts are dangerous, Baron!”

“Out of my way. I’m getting her out of here. You know you can’t stop me, Faren.” Baron pushed Rya behind him.

“I’m not letting you go.” Faren’s hands lit with flames and he cast them towards Baron.

A wind picked up, blowing away the flames, but as they dissipated, Faren was gone from his post by the door. Suddenly, Baron was aware of Faren running swiftly towards him at the side, a knife readied in his hand. Baron moved the react, but failed to get out of the way with Rya in time. A flash of the silver from the blade, a scream from Rya, a sharp pain going down the side of Baron’s neck, and the warm trickle of blood.

A great wind welled about Baron as he regained balance, standing between the Fire Wielder and Rya. A deep cut ran down the side of his neck and partly onto his chest, soaking his shirt in blood. “Forgive me, Faren. I have to.” With a flick of his hand, Faren was knocked back against the wall, falling in a limp heap on the floor. Baron grabbed Rya’s hand, rushing with her outside. He picked her up in his arms, and the wind carried them away.

They had escaped. Baron had betrayed the family he had known, the family who had taken him in. Yes, they were monsters like him, terrible people who would do anything for what they wanted, but Baron was repaying Father’s kindness to him years ago with betrayal. Would the cycle of wrong-doing never end?

Baron looked down at Rya, nestled in his arms, looking up at him with her innocent green eyes, filled with a very different emotion than the fear of a victim about to die.

“You’re hurt.” She unwrapped the little shawl from around her shoulders, pressing it to Baron’s wound.

Baron flinched and offered her a small smile. Something in her gaze, something in her voice, something made it all worth it.

Baron had taken the first step, the first step in a long journey.