Prologue Part 2

PROLOGUE CONTINUED

Lloyd stepped forward, wiping blood from his sword on the furniture he passed. This room was only the first in a set of a group of chambers, depending on the lavishness of the king. He stalked to the end of the room, pushing open another set of gilded doors. The room beyond was basically a smaller version of the room he had just come through. The larger sitting room was for guests, while this one was for the king and his family.

Lloyd frowned. The room was deserted. Surely those swordsmen were not the only resistance the king was sending forth. No one, especially a king, would choose to die willingly on the night of a celebration.

Wasting no time, he pushed through to the next room. As he had suspected, it was the bedchamber. The room was surprisingly humble in appearance. It was rather large, true, but there were very little furnishings compared to the sitting rooms before it. A large bed sat against the far wall, with two doors on either side leading out to a balcony overlooking the sea. The doors were open, the light from the full moon shining in.

The royal family was nowhere to be seen. Instead, standing before the bed was a man in silver-blue armor. The figure held an oversized broadsword in his hands, the point resting on the ground.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Lloyd said. He caught the gleam of a crystal in the base of the blade, and inwardly sighed. It was a Crysblade. He studied the man’s armor, noticing how tiny interlocking plates covered the usual areas made vulnerable by typical armor. A large, clear crystal was set into the middle of the breastplate.

Lloyd wondered where Dehan had acquired not only a Crysblade, but also a full set of Crysarmor. Crysarmor was much harder to make, and so it was much rarer than Crysblades. As far as Lloyd knew, the Protectors no longer employed the armor. The clear crystal was beneficial yet harmful at the same time. Due to its size, it gave the one wearing the armor the speed and maneuverability one would have normally. Unfortunately, the crystal’s lack of color strictly limited its abilities, and its size sapped the wearer’s energy faster. While useful in certain situations, it was not practical for long-term battles.

The armored figure raised its sword. The weapon was a good six feet in length. Under normal circumstances, it would have been unusable, but the enhanced power the armor’s crystal granted made the size necessary. While Lloyd’s sword was just as durable as the larger one, its extended length gave the figure a slight advantage.

“If you don’t mind, I have a king to kill,” Lloyd said. “So, I don’t suppose you could simply step out of the way.”

The man did not answer. Lloyd had not expected him to. “Have it your way,” he sighed.

He leapt forward, channeling energy through his body to make him faster and stronger. He swept his sword in an arc, aiming for the man’s stomach. A Crysblade could slice through normal armor. Unfortunately, it only left a large dent on Crysarmor. Eventually, a Blade could break through, but it would wear down the user.

The armored warrior reacted instantly, sweeping his sword around at head level. Lloyd ducked out of the way and pressed forward again. The man, ready this time, countered Lloyd’s attacks. He was not slowed down by the bulky armor, as one would expect, and his extended reach kept Lloyd just out of range.

Time to try something else, he thought. Opening himself up to the crystals, Lloyd leaped toward the western wall, spinning in midair so that his feet connected with it. He fed energy into the wall, allowing it to hold him in place. A soft red light shone wherever his feet touched.

The figure swung at Lloyd, making full use of his Blade’s length. Lloyd ran along the wall, dodging out of the way as the other’s Crysblade sheared through stone. Lloyd sprung away from the wall, hitting the ceiling, and then struck downward. His sword connected squarely with the man’s helmet, leaving a large furrow across the right side of the plate covering his face.

The man staggered backward, knocking into a support for the canopy above the bed. Even with the added protection of Crysarmor, a powerful blow to the head could send anyone reeling. Pressing his advantage, Lloyd struck at the dent he had made on the lower part of the breastplate, and was rewarded as the metal gave way, tearing slightly.

Suddenly, stars exploded in Lloyd’s eyes as he flew away from the warrior and out the door, back into the small sitting room. He landed in a plush chair, tipping it over backward. He grunted as he came up to his feet. Blood was trickling down the side of his head; the man’s armored fist had made a slim gash just above his left ear. He put a hand to the side of the head and performed a quick self-healing spell. Thankfully, the cut was small enough to drain very little of his energy.

As he regained his bearings, the armored warrior came through the doorway. Lloyd looked down, noticing that the long red carpet extended into this room as well. He smiled, draining as much power as he could from the rug, turning it into a soft pink color. He held out his left hand, palm open, and let out a blast of air. The invisible force struck the man, sending him crashing into the bed frame and bringing the canopy down on top of him.

Cautiously, Lloyd stepped into the bedroom, preparing to unleash another burst of air if necessary. The man rolled out of the wreckage of the bed, sword still in his hands. Not wasting any time, Lloyd pressed the attack, using quick, darting strikes to hit different points on the armor. The man was able to counter most of these, but he was visibly slowing. With the wounds he had received, the crystal in the breastplate was wasting too much power keeping the man and armor moving.

Lloyd pushed forward again with his hand. An invisible force drove the armored figure out the balcony doors, and Lloyd immediately closed in. The balcony was rather large, and the full moon above provided ample light.

The warrior was growing more desperate, taking larger swings. His brutish tactics were not only ineffective, but also wore him out that much faster. Lloyd ducked beneath the attacks, popping up to strike at the open spot on the man’s stomach. A steady stream of blood began to drain out of the tear.

Reinforcing his blade with more power from his crystals, Lloyd struck the man on the side of the head. He dropped to his knees, sword clattering to the floor. Seeing him kneeling, Lloyd realized just how big the armor had made him seem. It did not matter now. The fight was over. Lloyd turned away, needing to move onward.

“Why?” the man called out. “Why are you doing this, Lloyd?”

Lloyd froze in mid-step. He returned to the kneeling, dying man. The man put his hands to his head and removed the helmet, throwing it to the side. The right side of his head was bruised and swollen, the eye closed.

“Renker,” Lloyd said. “Playing a bodyguard, I see.”

The big man drew in a pained breath. “The Order is fracturing,” he replied.

“I know,” Lloyd said, smiling. “That’s partly my doing.”

“So it was you,” Renker hissed. “The elders have been frantic these past few months trying to catch you.”

“They did, actually,” Lloyd said. “I escaped just this morning.”

Confusion crept across Renker’s face. “Then how are you here?” he inquired. “Unless….” His eyes widened as realization set in. “You took one of the transport crystals, didn’t you?”

Lloyd grinned wickedly. “Indeed I did.”

“So the Order really is dividing,” Renker said. Lloyd could see the sadness in his eyes. “I suppose some of the Order is now loyal to you.”

“Yes,” Lloyd answered. He crouched, putting himself at eye level with Renker. “So tell me, what are you doing here?”

“I was not pleased with the direction the Order has been taking these days,” Renker said. He turned his head and spit blood out of his mouth. “I decided to return to my homeland and serve my king.”

“Ever the patriot, Renker,” Lloyd said, shaking his head. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a king to kill.” He stood up, keeping his sword at his side. With surprising speed, Renker grabbed his arm.

“What are you planning, Lloyd?” he demanded. “How can killing the king benefit you?”

“I’ve indulged you enough, Renker,” Lloyd said, hardness creeping into his voice. “It’s time I was on my way.”

He brushed off Renker’s hand and brought his sword up. There was no fear in Renker’s eyes, only hatred. Lloyd was used to seeing that. He set the blade against Renker’s neck. He would give Renker an honorable death; it was the least he could do.

He pulled his arms back, and then stepped into the swing, cleaving Renker’s head off cleanly. The body fell to the side. Wordlessly, Lloyd turned and entered the bedchamber.

He doubted that the king had fled the palace. Instead, there was probably a secret passage in the bedchamber that would take the king and queen to a safe room. Unfortunately, nowhere was truly safe where Lloyd was concerned. He began checking the walls for any hidden entrances, moving aside dressers and shelves. The walls were bare, though. He turned to the bed and knocked it to the side with a push of air. As he had thought, a trapdoor was set into the floor. He hooked a finger through the handle and pulled. It did not budge, meaning it was locked from the inside. With two quick stabs, he broke the hinges and kicked the door in.

He dropped down into the hallway. It was painted in the same red and gold pattern as the rest of the palace. Lloyd thought it awfully shortsighted of the king to trap himself like this. Then again, Dehan was no coward; he would rather die than flee. Lloyd was ready to fulfill that wish.

He walked down the passage, noting the torches on the walls. He pulled several of the flames to him, using the crystal in his sword to bind them to the blade. The metal in Crysblades did not burn or rust with age; they were, for the most part, impregnable.

He continued down the hallway, at last finding a thick wooden door. The king and the rest of his personal guard waited inside. Unconcerned, Lloyd slashed through the door, the fire on the blade burning through instantaneously. He kicked the wreckage down and crossed the threshold.

Four men rushed him immediately. Lloyd swung once, sending the flames into the guards’ faces. They screamed in agony as they fell. Lloyd walked forward, watching the only person remaining in the room: King Dehan himself. The queen was not with him. Lloyd did not care; he only needed to kill the king.

For a man who was about to die, the king stood proud, as if he were the one in control. Lloyd admired the man’s courage, as foolish as it was.

“You could have fled, you know,” Lloyd said. “Survived for another day.”

“I know you would have come after me,” Dehan answered. “I saw you in the feast hall and beheld you for what you are.”

“I’m honored,” Lloyd said, grinning. He walked toward the king, stopping a few steps away.

“Well then, get on with it,” Dehan said. “I only hope you are ready for what you are about to start.”

The king knew what Lloyd’s plan was. There was no more use for words. Lloyd set the tip of his Blade against the king’s heart.

“As you wish,” he said, driving the sword through Dehan’s chest. He let the body slide to the floor, wiping the blood off his sword on the king’s robes. With a flick of his wrist, the sword began to change, widening, extending, until at last a red sash hung limply in his hands. He tied it around his waist, and then pulled a spherical silver crystal from his pocket. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the place he wanted to go. He vanished from the room, off to play the next piece of his puzzle.

He hoped the world was ready for his next move.