Beyond the Amaranthine Veil

Looking further into the room, he noticed red footprints, which paced back and forth, across the floor, stopping in various places where furniture and floorboards had been torn apart. Tristan stepped over the body, following the final path of tracks, which lead out into the next room. Turning around the corner, Tristan followed the trail up the stairwell. As the bloody footprints came to an end, he heard the sound of something heavy being knocked over. Placing his back to the wall, Tristan crouched down, listening intently. “Where is the blasted relic?” A woman yelled angrily just before Tristan heard another crash. “Tell me, child. Where did your father hide the wheel?” Tristan slowly crept down the hall, sword at the ready as the young girl answered her aggressor, her meek voice trembling. “My father would not tell you, and neither shall I!” The girl yelled at the other woman. “I see. Well, there is more than one method of extracting information from someone.” The woman replied. Tristan, fearing for the child’s safety, spun around the corner and charged into the room. As he entered the room, he saw a tall, brown haired woman, wearing an emerald gown and gloves, standing over the cowering dark haired child. As the woman turned her cold brown eyes upon him, she smiled with a deceptive beauty, a snake filled with venomous intent. “I would prefer that you did not interrupt.” She spoke, lifting her left hand, which glowed with a dark violet mist. Instantly recognizing the use of magic, Tristan jumped. The sorceress released her spell, which shot across the room, narrowly missing Tristan as he rolled behind a turned over bookshelf. Without a second’s hesitation, Tristan grabbed a nearby chair and threw it at the woman, who had begun to ready another spell. Tristan squatted down and using his entire body, flipped the bookshelf into the air. The chair shattered as her spell discharged. The woman turned her body, pointing with her right hand, as Tristan spun and threw his short sword. The moment the sword left his hand, he drew his two handed, rune engraved sword. The bookshelf burst, allowing Tristan’s perfectly timed throw to pass through the debris. “Gah!” The sorceress gasped, stumbling backwards and turned to face opposite of the young girl, who stood off to the left of the room. Tristan could see the woman from the side, both hands wrapped around his blade. Seeing no blood on the point of the weapon, Tristan charged, sword lifted over his head. “Clever,” the sorceress smiled, turning her body to reveal the blade she had caught. Throwing the weapon back at its master, Tristan spun, knocking one blade away with the other and swung down. His attacker shrieked with anger as she used her magic to deflect his blade but was still cut on her right side, tearing her dress. As he spun once more, he whirled the blade from the ground, and carrying it through an upward spiral, swung horizontally from shoulder level. The woman’s body broke apart into black mist, as she quickly moved backwards, just outside of reach from Tristan’s sword. Rematerializing briefly, she awaited Tristan’s next attack. Back slashing, the blade narrowly missed its mark, as the woman turned to mist once again, jumping to the right and held out her right hand. Quickly changing the direction of his attack, Tristan switched his grip and swung in a downward facing arc. The woman’s spell shot off as Tristan’s swing raked upward, slashing though the attack and connecting once more with its intended target. The wind was forced from Tristan’s lungs as he felt a strong impact in his stomach, sending him flying across the room, as the sorceress screamed in pain again. Tristan groaned as his back struck the far wall. Slowly sinking down the wall, to the floor, he looked up at his opponent. Stumbling backwards, the woman stared down at a wound, which shine with ruby glistening blood, through the center of her chest. “Seems I underestimated you, Tristan Stryfe. Had I known that you possessed the Spell Drinker, I might have considered a different approach to our game. Until next time.” She said, looking over her wounds and stepping back towards the second story windows. Tristan rose to his feet, a large hole burned through his clothes, revealing the well-toned muscles beneath. “I am far from finished.” Tristan spoke, lifting his sword to his shoulder. “No doubt. A fine specimen you are.” She said, throwing out both hands, causing the bay windows to shatter and crumble. “I do not see what I have come for and my time is short. I am certain we will meet again.” She stepped forward. Tristan charging, quickly closing the gap between them. He swung his sword, which struck nothing as the woman crumbled into dust and was blown away by the wind. Tristan ran to the edge of the room, the tips of his boots, hanging over the ledge of the destroyed wall. He searched around for any sign of the woman to no avail as he saw Zara and Drew, running up to the house from below. “Tristan! Are you alright!?” Zara yelled as Drew stopped. Zara stopped as well as the bard looked up and smiled. “I am fine. There is a child up here, in need of help.” He said, looking back at the frightened girl. “Perhaps another gallant tale of Sir Tristan?” Drew asked, smile only growing broader. “What happened here?” She asked in shock. “There was a sorceress. I fought with her, but she escaped.” “Magic!” Kylie growled with disgust. “Blasphemers and their sacrilegious arts are an offense to the gods. You say one of them was here, of all places!” “My Lord,” said Drew. “What form of sorceress creates such damage, but leaves behind so little evidence? There is nary any debris down here.” Tristan sheathed his sword and gripped his chin in his left hand. “I do not rightly know.”