"Grandfather? Grandfather!" I pull the collapsed door out of the way and start digging through the rubble of what was once our home, trying to avoid the poisoned splashes of bright green paint the palace guards douse the destroyed homes of people too poor to pay taxes with. Most of our village has been destroyed for failure to pay, and those that survive are slowly emigrating to other towns or kingdoms. Only those too poor or physically weak to journey still remain.
"Kya," I hear a weak voice say in the far corner of the destroyed house. It takes almost an hour to reach him without poisoning myself, and when I do, finally, unearth him, I see his lower body covered in a splash of poisoned green. There is nothing I can do for him, he will die. I pray his injuries are enough to take him instead of leaving him to die in agony of poison.
I maneuver behind him where the poison does not reach, and gently place his head to rest on my lap. "Grandfather, I'm here, it is okay."
He looks at his hands, inspecting them for poisoned paint. His left is covered, but his right is clean. He reaches for me with his right hand, and I grab it with both of mine just before he loses the strength to hold it up. "Kya, I'm so sorry. I couldn't get out in time."
"No, Grandfather, no. I'm sorry I didn't make it home in time to help you." I blubber apologies and reassurances that I will be okay.
"Listen to me, when your parents died and I took you in, I promised not to let you go down the same path they did. Now, I fear, that was a mistake."
"Grandfather, what are you talking about?" I am surprised enough that my tears stop and l look at him confused.
In a feat of strength, he frees his hand and pulls off the medallion he has always worn around his neck. "Kya, you come from a long line of powerful blood mages. The vial in the center of this medallion has the elixir that awakens your powers in it." He thrusts the medallion into my hand. "Take it. The best blood mages use the blood of their enemies to strengthen their weapons, but the core is always someone you would have killed to protect. When I pass,"
"Grandfather!"
"No, when I pass, break the medallion and drink the vial, then use all of my blood to make the core of your sword. The king is mad with power and needs to be stopped, only one of our kind is strong enough to stop him. You are perhaps the only blood mage left in the country. It is up to you."
The sun dipped low in the horizon before he passed on. I begged, repeatedly, for him to stop talking and conserve his strength, but he would not listen and spent his last hours imparting all his knowledge about blood sourcery. I did my best to memorize the spells and rituals, and he drilled me on what he knew until I could recite it perfectly, word for word.
In the twilight, I drank the potion in the vial, then placed my hands on his chest and began chanting. The blood spilled on the ground and still in his veins started glowing and tiny particles of iron floated up and coalesced into a tiny ball suspended about a foot over his still chest. Once the iron from his blood was fully collected, I concentrated and changed the shape of the ball into a sharp needle. I pull on a pair of tough leather gloves and sheath the needle in a scrap of leather. The poison from the paint seeped into the blood and poisoned the iron of the needle. As I ensured the poison is in the core of my sword, it will transfer to all future iron it comes in contact with.
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It takes me a while to get up. I have been kneeling under my Grandfather for the better part of a day. My knees creak and pop as I stand, and I have to lean against a broken corner of the demolished house for a minute before the sensation returns to my legs enough for me to walk. I don't sleep that night, instead, I use the light of the full moon to dig an appropriate resting place for my Grandfather, and the early morning light to carve a stone into a grave marker.
As I finish burying him a soldier arrives and demands money to pay for a new fee. Apparently, burying my Grandfather in his own home and poisoning all of our belongings now bears a financial cost to the victim. One of the knights looks sheepish and apologetic like he really doesn't want to extort money from someone who clearly owns nothing, but the other bears a cruel smile and greedy eyes. When he realizes I don't have a penny to my name, and he starts suggesting alternative forms of payment, his junior turns pale and tries to argue.
When the elder knight turns to smack the junior for not backing him up, I take the opportunity to unsheath my needle. Using the control spells my Grandfather spent his last hours teaching me, I guide the needle clumsily through the air and stab the knight in some vital points. He does not even have time to scream as the concentrated poison robs him of his breath and he sinks to the ground.
The younger knight catches him and tries to wake him, while I back away from the screen. "What have you done to him?" He screams at me as he tries in vain to save the man's life.
"I don't know what you mean. I have no weapons, nothing that could cause these symptoms. Was he one of the knights sent for collections yesterday? Do you think he accidentally touched the poison paint?" I muse out loud, sneaking the needle back to the safety of its scrap of leather.
The poor young man looks torn, these could be the symptoms of poison. The story makes sense. "Help me save him!" He cries, pulling off the other's armor trying to find the point of contamination.
"No."
His head whips up and his eyes turn cold, "excuse me? This is a knight, your better, you will help me tend to him."
"This is a man who helped kill my Grandfather for the high crime of a poor harvest. Anyone who takes pleasure in killing and impoverishing those in his care is no one's better. I will not help this man."
As I speak, the older knight's gasping stops and he stills. Dead.
The younger draws his sword and moves to execute me for disobeying an order that may have caused the death of another knight, but my needle is faster and the young knight falls before he has taken three steps toward me.
Paralyzed and unable to help, he watches in horror as I pull the iron out of his compatriot's blood and add it to my needle. He is still gasping as I move over and do the same to him. Under the poison's influence, he is unable to draw enough breath to scream, but I can tell the ritual is painful. He perishes before I finish extracting the iron from his body.
My needle is bigger now, but it will take more blood before it is robust enough to even be called a dagger.
I relieve the knights of their money pouches and provisions and start walking out of town. I need to practice with my weapon and save many more people before I have the strength and control I would need to take on the army. Until then, I will need to move and hide from the knights patrolling the land. I look back at my destroyed home in my tattered village. I'll be back. I'll be back and I will avenge you all.
Wait for me.