Daggers

”Hmm” Merheeth hummed. “I can only perform abilities for you as you discover them,” he said, wheezing, as if in thought.
Marcus nodded, he would have to figure it out himself as he was practicing.
“I am merely a conduit for your magic, I learn spells as you do.” The spirit croaked. Marcus sighed, how was he supposed to figure it out on his own?
“I have memories of my ancestors having greater powers, but they were lost during the collapse, none of us have been the same since then, those wars weakened us.”
Marcus did not know that spirits had ancestors, and no matter, lost spirit powers could not help him now.

As they rode on, the mountains turned to snowy hills, which, in the right season, would be covered in lush grass instead. It wasn’t long before the hills were obscured by a cover of trees, they were getting close now.
“Arthur!” He called over to his brother, “Keep your bird out when we get there, and keep an eye on the witch for me.” Arthur nodded “Afraid of foul play?” Marcus nodded, and Arthur saluted. “As you wish my liege!” He even made short bow, Marcus had told him to knock it off, at least in private, but his wishes had fallen on deaf ears. Arthur had insisted.
“You are king now!” He had said. “If I don’t acknowledge it, who will?” Marcus supposed he was right, and had made no further fuss about it.

They met Brandon a half days ride from Claiths capital village, though having left the mountains behind them, these lands looked strange to Marcus, suspiciously void of elevation, even the air smelled strange here, thick and dense, nothing like the fresh air of cloud central.
“What can you tell me Bran?” Marcus asked, wasting no time on pleasantries. Brandon nodded.
“Well, Claith is definitely expecting company, he has gathered a large force, at least, all his captains are there, and all the gates are closed, with the exception of the east gate, the smallest one, which coincidentally sits on our side.”
Blast! He thought, he would have very much liked to maintain the element of surprise, but maybe that was too much to expect.
“The opal then.” He mused, almost to himself, Naea nodded, it was likely.
“We keep moving, maybe he knows we are coming, but we don’t want him to know that we know, so we stay on our path.” Naea smiled at him, a rare occurrence in public, and Brandon nodded.
“My spies went as far as red rivers, it seems word hasn't reached quite that far just yet. From what we could tell.”
Marcus was pleased, that old chief Ered would be trouble enough without a preemptive warning, but still, word would likely reach hi before they did.

They arrived in the early afternoon, under the meager and unhelpful light of the winter sun. The trees here had prevented the roads from being completely covered in snow, but it was still a good half meter tall, and they were forced to slow their march.
As the trees parted, they were met by a significant force, sitting comfortably on top of wooden walls on a slight hill, the gate to the town still wide open.
Most of his men had remained behind tree cover, but he wanted to go take a look at their battlefield, it wasn’t particularly favorable for them, the enemy could easily cast spells in their direction from behind cover, but with the gate still open, he might be able to rush it and get inside… but no, there was a small contingent on foot coming out of the gate.
As they approached, he noticed that this group it was less like a contingent, and more like a group of soldiers hastily in pursuit of a man, unlike any he had ever seen before. He needed only a single good look at the individual to ascertain that it was in fact Claith.
He was young, younger than Marcus, he had a short red-blond beard, and a fabulous mustache, with the tips curled up high. He had blond, shoulder length hair, though he had one long braid starting on the top of his head, with a feather at the end.
He carried a wooden staff, with seemingly no real purpose other than to look interesting.
He wore an elaborate wooden head dress, inlaid with many amber stones, his clothing were rough green woolens with the sleeves cut off, and he wore leather bracers, also decorated with amber. The amber didn’t surprise him, as these stones were associated with the magical element of life, Claith’s specialty.
He was also wearing a leather hand wrist band, with a large ruby in it. He was also wearing a oval amulet made out of wood, with an opal stone in its center. To finish off the already bizarre image, he had a long, thin, slightly curved bone stuck through his nose.
Why he would wear a powerful trump card such as an opal out in the open, was a mystery to Marcus, but he assumed it had something to do with his missing marbles.
 Opal was associated with the magical element of sight, a rare and powerful ability among elemental mages.
Usually elemental mages focused on one or two elements, but Claith’s ruby was fore the element of fire, making three total.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in!” Claith shouted jovialy, as he halted in the middle of the would be battlefield, his men still scrambling after him.
“If it isn’t our very own mister sparkle pants!” Marcus, figuring this was an invitation to parley, had ridden forwards, and gotten off his horse, his army surrounding them in a wide arc.
“Greetings, chief Claith, of the southwood.” Marcus nodded to the man, who frowned, and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh, please, spare me the pleasantries, what do you want? Why are you here?” Claith demanded.
“I’m here endeavoring to unite the people of cloud, in the face of war and invasion” Marcus proclaimed.
“Huh? Sounds rather ironic, since you are the one doing the warring and invading here, don’t you think?” Claith jabbed at him.
“Well, the prophes…” Marcus began, but Claith interrupted him.
“Prophesy this, Prophesy that, I guess that must be why you destined poor old Jorgh, to an eternity of feeding the worms, what did he ever do to deserve death huh? He never hurt a fly you know?” Claith said, in an almost offended manner, accompanied with excessive hand gestures.
The man standing closest behind Claith, a man Marcus recognized, spoke up. “Thats not technically true my lord, he actually killed a lot of people in his long history of…” he started, before Claith cut him off. “Shut up Maith!” he snapped.
Marcus remembered now, Maith was Claiths second, and his cousin.
“What do you know about facts, and reality, Maith?” Claith asked his cousin, while rolling his eyes.
“I’m and expert, my lord, its my job to know things, and inform you..!” Maith said, bowing, before Claith cut him off with the longest snort so far, and then he turned back to Marcus. “So duel then? Thats why you are here isn’t it?” Claith smiled, it was a strange expression, full of glee, somehow.
“Well actually, I was…” but he trailed off, he hadn’t wanted to fight Claith, but the amber stones in his outfit were already starting to glow, and figures started to walk into the area, they were mostly clay and wooden figures, greatly varying in size.
“You were what?” Claith demanded. “Thinking I would come quietly?” Marcus focused.  
“Merheeth” he thought to himself, and his blade fell into his hands, he immediately shrunk it to throwing size. “Well, actually yes, but I realize my mistake now, I apologize.”
Claith grinned at him, and the figurines started to attack him, as Claith kept his distance, Marcus threw his boomerang blade, angeling it such that he would get as many of the creatures as he could in one go, his blade sliced them apart easily, and Claith only smirked at him. He had finished up about half of the critters before he realized his mistake, the severed halves of the fallen creatures were now starting to reform themselves into new creatures of their own, only smaller, massively increasing their numbers. 
Shit! He thought, and lept towards Claith, as soon as he did, he saw the ruby starting to glow bright, he could cast shield just in time, as a wave of flame washed over him, and he dashed back, the tried throwing his blade to Claith, but the creatures seemed hell bent on acting as body shields for him, it was useless.
“You know, the prophesy is real, haven’t you seen the signs?” Marcus grumbled, as he attempted another attack on Claith, another wave of flame greeted him.
“Does that mean I have to lick your boots now, Marcus?” Claith laughed, as his minions attacked Marcus from all sides.
He spun his blade, knocking the creatures back, without cutting them, there were hundreds now, if he wasn’t careful, he would be overwhelmed.
“No, it doesn’t, it means we should work together, to fight a common enemy!” He shouted as he dashed towards his opponent, the ruby glowed again, as expected, he fainted left, but jumped right, avoiding the wave of heat, without having to block it, and swinging his blade.
Pain flooded his temple, there was no fire, he had been smacked square in the face by the staff.
“Didn’t think this little beauty was just for show, did you?” 
Marcus ignored him, and wasted no time thinking about what had happened. He dashed back, swirling, knocking the frenzied creatures away from him, and leaping towards Claith again, this time he was ready, he didn’t faint, he attacked head on, the ruby glowed, but he had time, he was faster, Claith ducked, and dashed away, sending fire his way, he blocked it, widening his blade to proper shield size.
“I swore Liberty, haven’t you heard? You would still be the ruler of your own people.” He made for Claiths throat, his sword arm ready for impact, but Claith simply blocked with nothing more than his wooden staff, which his sword should have sliced througheasily, and smiled.
“Okay, I will follow you!” he announced gleefully. “Ill swear to you, on my honor as a gentlemen, and on my life itself.” He made a fabulous bow, as Marcus stood there taken aback, sword still in hand, pushed slightly aside by Claiths staff. 
“No, my lord!” Maith shouted in panic. “Your ideal!” Claith turned, paused. “Shut up Maith!” He snapped. “Look at his eyebrows Maith! Look at them, he’s obviously telling the truth!” Maith stared at him, but said nothing. “Beside, the man is right, we’ve all seen the signs of the chosen ones return, and the return of Zenithrix, and war and all that, we best work together if we want to live! Do you want to live Maith? Do you?” Maith didn’t respond, and Claith didn’t give him time to. “And besides, this ideal has been nothing but a pain in my ass, giving me rules? Limitations? No thanks madame goddess, you can shove that ideal right where the sun don’t shine, thank you very much!” He shouted at the sky, while pointing a finger at his buttock.
“Well, whatever your reasoning, I appreciate your cooperation, Claith.” Marcus didn’t know what to think, but in his opinion, this was all too strange, but perhaps, this kind of strange behavior was to be expected from a man famous for their lack of normalcy.
“I’m sure our combined strength will compel others to come willingly as well.” Marcus said. Claith grinned at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure Markyboy, not everyone is as incredibly reasonable as myself.” He said, grinning proudly.
“Nor as immensely humble, I’m sure.” Marcus mumbled.
“Exactly!” Claith exclaimed, slapping his hands, and wringing them together. “So!” He exclaimed, exited. “Who do we kill first? I mean, after that that big idiot Jorgh, most of the others will make light work, don’t you think?”
Marcus shook his head. “We aren’t killing anyone, if I can help it, we will try diplomacy first.”
“Pffft!’ Claith snorted. “Well, you’re the boss now I guess.” He Shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go Maith.” He gestured to his cousin. “I’ll be in my tent if you need me.” He said.
“Aren’t you forgetting your formal vows?” a clear female voice echoed across the field, it was Naea, she stood at the edge of the circle of people, that now included a mix of his own men, and many others from Claith’s village.
Claith turned, giving her the side eye, and an exaggerated smile. “Oh, yes of course, mistress witch, how could I forget?”
Marcus looked to her, she gave him the slight twitch of her cheek, which was her public version of a smile. She approached them, as Claith kneeled before him.
The field was now properly filling with people, as Claith started his vows.
“I, the lord of the southwood, and most honorable of gentlemen: Claith, hereby swear eternal fielty and fidelity to Marcus of the lots of places now!”
Marcus felt the witches hand on his shoulder, he startled, she never did that. He turned around, looking at her face, a pained smile contorting her face, as her hand slid from him, and she collapsed to the ground, she tried to grasp his arm, but failed. He spotted the knife between her ribs, before the the man who placed it there. The man died before Marcus realized what had happened, a single large black spike piercing his skull.
Screams filled the area, as Arthur came running, the needle had been his doing of course, it was one of his birds main attacks.
Marcus grabbed Claith by the throat before he could think. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded in a quiet voice. Claith squirmed.
“It wasn’t me dude!” he croaked, struggling to speak with Marcus grip squeezing his airways.
“Who else could it have been? Who else is here, who would do this?” Marcus tightened his grip.
“Look at him!” Claith exclaimed desperately, pointing at the dead man.
As Marcus gaze met the man, he let go of Claith, who dropped to the ground gasping for breath.
The assassin was clearly wearing white fields colors under his robes.
Forcing himself to calm down, Marcus knelt down to where Naea was laying on the ground. She looked to him, and gave him a pained wink. Still alive, it meant.
“Pouch, under my left  breast.” She said, in a wispy voice. Marcus reached for it, he knew which one she meant, he pulled some dried leaves from it. Naea tried to reach for them, but failed to lift her hand. She cursed softly, and opened her mouth, Marcus deposited some of the her into it, and she starting chewing them.
“More.” She groaned painfully. Marcus obliged her.
“Come with me, she can stay in my tent until she gets better.” Claith said, after curiously observing the whole process. Marcus still wasn’t sure he could trust this man, but he decided not to make a thing out of it right now. He signed Arthur to come along, and followed his new vassal to his hut.

The hut was a complete mess, but Claith cast a spell, making his ambers glow, and about two dozen small clay figurines came to life, and jumped from the shelves on which they were stored, and started cleaning the place up, as in, they chucked things in boxes, and swept them under Claith’s bed, before returning to their shelves and turning back into unmoving figurines.
Marcus put Naea on the bed, and when the leaves had properly taken effect, and she could move normally again, she pulled the dagger out, smeared a paste from one of her vials on it, and cast a strange looking spell, which made of blackness. 
She groaned painfully, laid back, and fell asleep

Marcus had stayed awake by her side all night, Arthur had fallen asleep in Claiths lazy chair, and Claith had commandeered Maiths hut when he realized he wasn’t getting his bed back that night.
The next morning, Naea had woken up, planted a passionate kiss on his lips, told him she was fine, before leaving the tent, saying she had some urgent matters to attend to.
Then, Marcus had gone to his own tent, slept the morning away, and now he was back to training, this time he was sparring with Arthur.
The little bird mostly shot a variety of black objects his direction, most of them sharp and pointy, and allowed Arthur himself to send shock waves of air, as well as move in ways still a mystery to Marcus.
This duel was one of dodging and blocking. Counter attacking always proved difficult, because Arthur could relocated like a fluttering butterfly.
When they were younger, Marcus had always won simply by out-pacing his little brother, but Arthur had trained a lot more than himself these last few years, he was fast, both he and his bird, meaning he was basically fighting two opponents at once, he spun, dodged, jumped, and spun through the air, chucking his sword, now dodge, no sword meant nothing to block with, leaving him open to attack.
“I could do it if I had multiple blades.” He mumbled. 
“You don’t have multiple blades!” Merheeth croaked indignantly
“We can do it!” He assured the spirit under his breath. “We can make more!” He concentrated. His blade bent, and with a loud crack, it broke into three pieces. He tried to keep the pieces under control, stabilizing them, but… 
“Argh!” Merheeth groaned. “Don’t do that!” he shouted in Marcus’ ear, and the blade snapped back into a single sword
Arthur stopped, looking curiously at him. “Your sword just broke into three, and then repaired itself.” He noted, with a confused look on his face.
“Shrink.” He told the spirit, ignoring Arthur.
“Hmmm” Merheeth hummed “That might work indeed.” The blade shrank until it was no more than a large dagger, maybe a small shortsword, although it was mostly blade, with little in the way of a handle. It was lighter, not just in weight, but in mana too.
“Split!” He told the spirit, and he concentrated.
“Hngng” Merheeth groaned. The blade shook in his hand, he let it go, moving it in the air, and with a soft clang, the blade split in two, and the pieces grew into two of these daggers.
“Wow!” Arthur yelled, his eyes widening.
Marcus felt pride coming up, but he did not let go of his concentration, in order to keep both daggers afloat.

He was able to get two more daggers before he lost control, and dropped to the ground, before snapping back together into a single blade.
He reasserted control, and split again.
“Very nice, boy.” Merheeth hummed, approvingly.
He decided to practice with his two blades for now, but he would have to train this ability more.