"Elrik"

"Elrik!"

"ELRIK!"

"Elrik, get in here! Did you see this? This is insane dude!"

Sara Silvers banged on the door with abandon.

"Dude!"

She wrenched the door open as Elrk unlocked it, shoving a laptop in his face. Elrik stared blearily at the screen shoved in his face

The laptop screen showed a browser window with Sara's email client open. The open email was from..

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

subject: Congrats on your selection

Dear Sara,

Congratulations! We're pleased to inform you that your startup has been selected for entry into our angel investment program. We're excited to have you join our stable of startups along with...

The email continued, explaining the details, but big news was right there in the subject line. They'd been selected. Finally, after months of working themselves to the bone on a ramen budget, they were getting an infusion of cash.

More than that, this was validation. A real actual investment venture capital firm had seen what they'd built - and they wanted to invest real money in!

"Dude! DUDE! How are you not more excited?"

Sara was losing it. Which she did. A lot. Often.

Despite himself, Elrik's face broke into a weak grin, "Yay. We're in", Sara's enthusiasm, as always, was infectious.

We did it. Finally

"We're IN!", Sara crowed. She started doing a little dance outside Elrik's room, one hand holding

a laptop aloft.

"We're in! We're in! We're in, we're in, we're in!"

Wait.. this all feels a little familiar.

Elrik frowned. A strange sense of deja vu washed over him. Like he'd been here before. Seen that screen, read those lines, and seen Sara do that ridiculous dance before.

They'd been here in this hallway outside his bedroom - years ago. Back in the before times.

Is this a dream?

Elrik blinked. For some reason, his thoughts felt loose and scattered, like that feverish feeling of being half-awake after a bad night's sleep. He couldn't for the life of him remember what happened yesterday. Or how he'd gotten here. Or where he was supposed to be.

He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach - as if instead of joy - he should be feeling something else instead.

He felt as if he'd forgotten something terribly important.

He was supposed to be doing something else right now..

...

Ambrose blanched, the blood draining from his face.

The watchman, still standing where he'd been, eyes still blank, was turning his head and pleasantly smiling at him.

This was not possible!

I felt it! I felt his mind recede as I pushed!

He shouldn't be able to gather himself like this!

Ambrose's eyes went wide and he leapt away from the watchman.

"Quick! Surround him!"

Ambrose's drones surrounded the watchman, ringing him from all sides, their hands on their swords.

Ambrose had never seen this before. His powers - his Master's powers - were not infallible.. but he'd felt the man's mind scatter as he pushed on it - sending it into a dream. He'd felt the man fade away!

It shouldn't be possible for the watchman to recover this quickly!

"Careful!", Ambrose shouted out.

He quickly dove behind his desk, putting it between himself and the strange watchman, before he attacked.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

...But the watchman didn't attack.

He simply continued to stand there, smiling.

Then the watchman opened his mouth and spoke some strange tongue Ambrose had never heard before.

"Hello! I'm afraid Elrik is not available right now. Please stand by, or choose a secondary agent to interact with. Thank you!"

All the drones stood ready, tense and unsure.

Ambrose himself wasn't sure what to do now. He'd never seen something like this before. The watchman was not attacking - he was just standing there, smiling like an idiot - but Ambrose didn't understand a word of what he'd said.

Ambrose, his heart beating fast, watched him suspiciously.

He shouted out a warning, "What are you, watchman? How did you defend from my magic?"

The watchman continued to smile pleasantly, staring blankly ahead.

At Ambrose's question he seemed to reply, but only more gibberish streamed from his mouth,

"Hello! I'm afraid local language and customs translation is offline at this time. Only English is currently available. Please standby or specify a secondary agent to interact with. Thank you!"

For a few seconds, no one moved in the room. The drones watched the watchman with intent eyes, waiting for Ambrose to give an order.

Ambrose stayed where he was, standing behind his desk, considering.

I don't like it

Ambrose clenched his jaw. His Master had told him many times. The world was wide.. and this was no simple watchman it seemed. By some strange means he had pushed through Ambrose's magic - his Master's magic.

Ambrose swiftly made up his mind. He didn't know what strange magics the man was invoking with his strange tongue, but Ambrose didn't want to give him the time to do anything more.

Better safe, better fast, better dead

"Quick, take him! Kill him!", Ambrose ordered

As one, his drones drew their blades to move in for the kill.

As they did, the watchman spoke - again in that language Ambrose had never heard before,

"You have chosen option: Violence. Thank you! Please standby for the appropriate secondary agent!"

As the drones drew back their blades, the watchman's eyes shifted.

In an instant, his eyes changed - from glassy and blank - to dark and intent eyes that seemed to flick across everything in the room, taking everything in.

As Ambrose watched - the watchman attacked.

The watchman didn't seem to move as inhumanly fast as a school trained blade - but he moved faster than any human Ambrose had ever laid eyes on. He wasn't just fast - he moved with a kind of brutal grace that Ambrose found enviable - folding his motion into the movements of the drones - until they all seemed to be in a beautifully choreographed dance - rather than a rough brawl.

As the drones rushed him, the watchman moved to his left. He moved into the path of three of their swords, intercepting their sword blows on his left arm. That arm was clad in some kind of metallic brace, that absorbed their attacks.

As he did this, the watchman barreled into them, pushing them back, avoiding the attacks of the other drones to his right and back.

Ambrose didn't see when it happened, but at some point the brace on the watchman's arm seemed to extrude a blade of its own - a narrow dagger - that the watchman drew across two men's throats, killing them where they stood. In the same movement the watchman grabbed a sword from a dying man in his right hand, spinning and knocking away attacks coming for him.

Then, the man grabbed a second sword in his left from the other who's throat he'd slashed and at the same time, casually threw the sword in his right - in a short brutal throw that took one of Ambrose's drones in the heart.

The watchman kept moving, ceaselessly, as if he saw everything and understood every movement without a thought. He dodged and cut and stabbed and stepped and threw and killed.

All the while the watchman's eyes stayed the same - dark and intent - flicking back and forth across everything.

In another instant, the watchman easily ducked under the stab of a drone, grabbing a sword arm with his right hand while the blade in his left stabbed into the armpit of the drone, spilling blood across the floor.

Then he turned, almost casually, his toe catching a sword and kicking it up and into a drone's stomach - and in the same movement - throwing the sword in his left - so the butt of it took a man coming at him square in the forehead - rendering the drone unconscious.

Then the watchman turned to Ambrose.

Not me. Please not me

It had taken scarcely two breaths' time.

Two breaths' time, to kill dozen men, dropping them in their tracks.

It beggared belief. The sheer economy of the man's lethal movement was chilling.

Ambrose felt absolute fear blossom and roar in his heart. He hadn't felt this kind of fear since he'd first faced his Master - all those years ago.

Now the watchman came for him.

Why? Why me?

Ambrose had but one option left.

It was a weapon he had never used. He had always held it back for fear of what his Master would exact as payment.

It was the seed his master had given him - the whisper of power granted to him as his student and servant.

When he weighed the terrible punishment his master was sure to exact - against the certain death that came for for - the decision was clear.

Now he had no other options but to use it.

As the bloody watchman stalked towards him, Ambrose raised an arm.

He began whispering under his breath, invoking his own ishka.

Dark inchoate whispers tripped over his tongue and shivered down his spine. He felt his ishka, his channel, unwind and unfurl - growing out from him - and winding its way to the killer that came for him.

Words given to him by his Master, words that he hoped one day to understand, flowed from his mouth.

With a hiss, Ambrose spat out the final syllable of the spell, his hand still extended.

The space in the room seemed to shake - and a soundless whoomp crossed the psychic space between them. Ambrose suddenly felt the loss - as something flew from within him and at the watchman.

Ambrose could almost swear he saw the invisible seed - as it crossed the room in a flash - and drilled right between the eyes of the approaching watchman.

Take that you fucker!

Ambrose crowed silently, half-triumphant - half-afraid - as he waited for the man to fall over.

Die! Die! Die!

The watchman stopped, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Then he seemed to shake his head. He seemed simply shake off the effect of the mind-seed - Ambrose's master's gift. As if it was a light knock on the head. Then he stared back at Ambrose.

Once more, his eyes were dark and focussed.

He continued to walk towards Ambrose - sword in hand.

"No!", Ambrose yelled, his hands balling into fists.

"No!"

"No! You ca-",

But Ambrose was interrupted before he could begin his plea.

He stared down in horror at the sword-blade in his chest.

Not fair

Slowly, he crumpled to his knees.

This was not fair

Then, Lord Ambrose Vi Gurdia, once little Ambrose Gardi, died.