Library: A Call To Duty

Chapter 1 The city of Quethine was deserted at this time of the night. The icy chill of winter was even more effective than the pitch blackness at keeping people inside their homes. The only lights that could be seen came from the late night inns, and even these were dwindling. The moons weren't out tonight, nor had they been for days. This strange occurrence was starting to worry the citizens. Tonight was even worse, however, for there weren't any stars showing. There was no way to find your direction through the cold and unforgiving night. These events made journeying away from home most deadly. Nevertheless, one man dared to find his way to the city. His cloak was torn and frozen, hanging rigid down the length of his shadowy form. The hood he wore was heavy and hanging down over his face, keeping some of the snow from his skin. His steps were weary and heavy, each leaving large imprints in the snowy ground behind him. He was heading towards one of the last lights to be seen in the city, an inn by the name of The Weeping Sun. His head was bowed, as to shield his face from the light emanating from the fireplace within. A loud echo followed his knock to the dense wooden door, one that could probably be heard for blocks. He looked around quickly to be sure he hadn't drawn any attention to himself. This was unlikely since it was doubtful anyone, or anything for that matter, was awake and outside at this time of night. The innkeeper finally opened the door, a greasy apron hung from his waste and he gently smiled at the stranger. From what Akahn could see, the inn was very well kept. The oak tables and chairs were polished, along with the countertop of the bar. There were no scraps of food on the floor, or left behind on dirty dishes. Actually, there were no dirty dishes, mugs, or silverware to be seen. The inn's ceiling was vaulted high with small candle-lit lamps illuminating the corners, leaving the top masked in shadows. The floor looked as though it was cleaned quite frequently. There were no ale or food stains on it, as well as no dust, dirt, or mud from patrons' shoes. Most of the windows had small cloth curtains pulled over them to prevent the casual passerby from looking inside during closed hours such as these. Just to the right of the bar was a hallway, which Akahn guessed led to the rooms. After a minute or so the innkeeper cleared his throat and addressed Akahn. "Well, hello, what are you doing out so late? Especially on a night like this!" The innkeeper asked. "Please, I need a room." "Well, we're closed for the night, but I'd hate to turn you away in this horrid weather. Please, come in." "Thank you, sir. My name is Akahn." "It's nice to meet you," the innkeeper wiped one of his hands off and extended it to Akahn. "You can just call me Willum." Willum was a stout man, not very well built, but he didn't need to be. He had been an innkeeper his entire life. Having inherited his establishment from his father, who was one of thousands to die in the plague, he didn't have to do much to get through life. He was now in his late forties, slightly balding, and looking very tired. The life had just left him, and not having any sons or daughters made his situation even worse. He wished he could find a caring wife to take care of him and comfort him through the good times and bad. Though his time to do so was ticking down quickly, and he doubted he would succeed. This never stopped him from trying, as well as keeping in high spirits. He loved both his job and the people who would share his good fortune with him day in and day out. Through his many years he'd seen and heard a lot, meeting this stranger in the middle of the night was no big deal, though something did seem awry with the whole situation. Maybe he would have a chance to share some gossip with Akahn tomorrow. "Alright, Willum, how about that room?" "Ah yes, please, follow me." Willum began walking through a narrow hallway with doors on either side. "You're lucky, I have only a few rooms left for tonight. Seems a lot of people got stuck here an extra day or so because of this foul weather." Both men walked down to the end of the hall until they were standing in front of a closed door. Willum stopped for a moment, thinking... "I'll tell ya what, the room's on me. I get the feeling you don't have much money as it is, and a night or two won't hurt anyone." "You are too kind. I will make sure to repay you some day. Thank you again, and good night." Akahn opened the door and quickly stepped through the doorway. He turned around and slowly closed the door behind him, leaving Willum standing in the hallway by himself. Akahn's room was small and cozy, which was certainly to his liking. There was a small table next to a bed, with a dresser on the opposite wall. Akahn lifted his hood from his head, letting it fall back on the neck of his cloak. Long, straight, black hair covered the sides of his head and most of his neck. His eyes were an unnatural black, seemingly able to stare straight through a person's soul. He also had a birthmark underneath his chin, or what looked like a birthmark at first. It was actually an old scar, or rather, a branding. It was in the form of a "T" with one end of the crossbar made into a downward lightning bolt. He had hoped no one would recognize it seeing as how it had been years since his order were in great numbers. There was also a small window in his room. He went over to it and slowly pushed the curtains to the side to make sure no one was trying to spy on him. Satisfied that he was truly alone, he returned the thick fabric back to its original position, making sure no one could see in if they wanted to. Akahn wasn't very tired, but he knew he needed to try to sleep. Sleep was one thing he hadn't got nearly enough of lately. He lay back on his bed and only a few minutes later was resting somewhat peacefully. The next morning was just a chaotic mess of people. The snow had ceased and the roads were moderately safe for travel. The main room of the inn was packed full of travelers, most of them were going rather than coming. Akahn had to slowly shove his way through the mass and finally managed to situate himself at one of the far corner tables. Once again his hood was covering his face, he couldn't have been more thankful for it at a time like this. There would be no service for a long time, but he didn't mind. He needed to mull over some thoughts, something just wasn't right. Across the room sat another man, who seemed to be in his late thirties. Akahn didn't see him, but the man certainly noticed Akahn. He was dressed in a drab robe made of some coarse material. He wore thin leather boots on his feet, not much for hiking and such, but for running around town they were the best and most comfortable. On the table in front of him sat a small leather-bound book with a quill next to it. The cover was cracked from age, and its pages were an assortment of new and old paper. He must have been writing in it for a very long time. He just sat there, ignoring everyone, except Akahn. Something about him fascinated this man, and he knew, with time, that his fascination would pay off. The crowd finally grew small enough to where waitresses could walk around the main room bringing food and ale to the customers. Akahn hadn't ordered anything; he just wanted to stay where he was for a while. He had noticed the man across the room earlier, but made nothing of it. It was in the later hours of the afternoon at this time, and the inn was starting to get full once again. This time, though, it was just the people of the city coming in for a drink or two. Four large men entered the doorway and promptly took a table. They sat only a few yards from Akahn. These men were wearing shining armor and carried weapons at their side. They must be from the city's guard thought Akahn. He looked them over briefly and returned to just staring at the desolate table in front of him. The soldiers took notice to Akahn as he had to them. They whispered among themselves, and Akahn could only make something out about a "newcomer." Hours passed and the soldiers got more and more drunk. Akahn had stopped paying attention to them long ago. He was now keeping a keen eye on the man across the room. The man was writing furiously in his little book, he had to refill his ink well twice already. What could have happened in these few hours that made him so eager to fill the blank pages with his text? The man's head was buried in his book, so in tune with his writing he didn't even need to look when he dipped his quill quickly into the ink to start a new line. The shouting of one of the guards disturbed the relatively silent room. Apparently the waitress hadn't been fast enough and now she was being yelled at for her folly. "What took you so long? I ordered that ale five minutes ago!" shouted the guard. He was most likely the superior officer of the four. "I-I needed to wait on other tables, and really, five minutes isn't that long." "Do you know who I am? I'm Lesart, captain of the city militia." "I-I-Uh" stuttered the girl. "You will serve me before anyone else or I will have you slaughtered!" he yelled only inches from her trembling face. She turned to try to go back to the kitchen, but Lesart held her wrist firm. She screamed and tried to pull harder to get away. Everyone in the room was staring at them, but feared to do anything. They knew Lesart could have any one of them killed if he chose. Akahn had been watching them as well. He didn't really care about what was happening until now. That brute was going to practically kill that girl. "Let her go. I'll be more than happy to pay for a round of ale for you and your men." Akahn said as he slowly stood up from his corner. Everyone in the room silenced. Their eyes focused on Akahn. They were startled by the fact someone was opposing the captain of the militia. "If I were you, I'd sit back down now. You have no involvement in this. It's between me and the girl." With a flip of his wrist, the other three men drew their swords and held them towards Akahn. "Now, sit down." "I'm afraid I can't do that. You have no right to hurt this girl. She was just doing her job, and very well I might add." "You had your chance." Lesart drew his own sword. He then flung the girl away so he could focus he attention on Akahn. Akahn looked at the men with their swords, almost as if he was studying them intensely. The swords were all clean, except for Lesart's. The blade and hilt were speckled with dry blood. Akahn imagined he took a little too much pleasure in his job as a soldier. "We really don't have to do this. Please, just sit down and I'll buy you all some ale." "It's too late for talk. I'll take pleasure in seeing your face contort as I run you through with my blade." With that, Lesart stepped towards Akahn. His blade flew in an arc aimed towards Akahn's neck. Adrenaline had caused his hearing and sight to haze over. He could only make out some shallow chanting coming from his target. The blade finished its swing, but hit nothing. As Lesart regained his balance he was immediately hit in the face with a burning object. He screamed as the skin on his face sizzled from the concentrated heat. The blow had knocked him to the floor. Through the cracks of his fingers he looked upwards. Akahn was standing there, his fists engulfed in black flames, his eyes now a fiery red. Akahn's hood had now fallen back, exposing his appearance to all who were gathered. Lesart stood up quickly and backed away toward his men. They spread out, circling Akahn in an attempt to overpower him. The first man lunged. Akahn deftly threw his arm to the side, elbowed the man in the stomach and cracked his arm over his shoulder. Blood sprayed Akahn and the soldier as bone protruded flesh. A scream of shear agony filled the small room as the soldier collapsed on the floor and slowly crawled to a corner to try and stop the bleeding. Akahn didn't wait for the next man to make the move. Akahn kicked one of the men's knees, sending a loud crunch through the air. The man tried to ignore the pain and swung at Akahn who dodged easily. Seeing another man coming Akahn quickly used the wounded man's body as a shield. A sword penetrated skin and bone, going straight through the man and into Akahn. He yelled as the steel tore into his torso. The man who was cruelly used as a shield slumped to the floor, dead. Blood covered Akahn's hand as he pressed it onto his wound. The two remaining soldiers took immediate advantage of his condition and closed on him. Akahn swung his leg, tripping Lesart's last man. His wound causing him to lose balance, Akahn fell on top of the other man. Lesart came up behind the two grappling men and raised his sword above Akahn's back, ready to drive it through. The soldier mistakenly threw Akahn from him just in time to be impaled by his commander's blade. His eyes contained a look of shock at what had just occurred. Lesart's blade had been driven straight through his soldier's throat, all but severing his head from his body. During this time Akahn had backed up against a wall to try to steady himself. His blood was draining fast, and he was about to lose consciousness. He said a fast prayer to his god, Xekser, to heal him, and then collapsed. Lesart didn't hesitate at this golden opportunity. He ran to where Akahn was slumped and drew his blade again. He would not miss this time. Just as he was starting to bring his blade down, he was hit in the back of the head. He turned, anger filling his eyes. The rest of the people in the room were now standing. Each of them was holding something that could be used as a weapon. Some had swords, while others had only plates and mugs. They stepped towards Lesart as if they were going to attack him. "You will not kill this man in my inn." Said Willum, who was holding a small hand axe. "You have made a mistake, innkeeper. I will be back with more men, and we will burn this pathetic building to the ground." With that Lesart sheathed his sword and walked heavily out the door. When he was out of sight, the people rushed to help Akahn. To their surprise he had stopped bleeding. The flames around his fists had gone out, and he was still unconscious, but at least he was breathing. They laid him out flat and propped his head up so he could try and get some water in him. They saw a faint movement underneath his eyelids as he took a small drink. Akahn groaned loudly as he opened his eyes and tried to move. His stomach was still in enormous pain. The first person he recognized was Willum, who was by his side. "Th-Thank..." Akahn tried to speak. "Shh...stay quiet. You've been wounded badly and need some rest. I'll have someone come to assist you, you mustn't move from here." Willum told him. The door to the inn opened once again. The people, fearing Lesart had returned already, moved away from it. A man in a black cloak, similar to Akahn's stepped through the entryway. "Where is Akahn Metherin?" he asked. The people pointed towards the body of Akahn. The man walked towards Akahn and stopped with his feet next to the wounded man's face. Akahn slowly turned his head to face the man. "You are required." With that the man in black dropped a small case on Akahn's chest and left out the door.

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Library: A Call To Duty