Chapter One:

Thief

He grimaced, gritting his teeth as he pulled the arrow from his shoulder; tossing the length of wood aside with a contemptuous grunt. A quick check told him the wound wasn’t immediately lethal, though it was bleeding a bit too much for comfort. His scowl deepened as he tore a strip of cloth from the hem of his cloak, glancing past the corner he had taken shelter in a few moments before as he hastily wrapped his wound.

A flash of black and gold had him ducking back into the alley quickly. ‘Great, just what I needed; more guards.’ His eyes flickered to the satchel resting against his thigh for a brief moment as he searched for an escape route. Seeing no viable routes he turned back to the road, pulling his facemask down as he walked forth. “Damn thing better be worth it…” he muttered under his breath as he drew an eight inch dagger; the blade a matte black that reflected no light.

Without hesitance he slipped out onto the busy streets, his blade hidden in his long sleeve as he blended into the crowd; aided by his nondescript forest green hooded cloak. The citizens ignored the stranger; just another face in the crowd as far as they’re concerned. Though one brave cut purse did take an interest in his bulging satchel, a quick stab to the kidneys dissuaded her of more such foolishness.

He smiled faintly as guards rushed to the collapsed woman, the commotion making it even easier to blend into the panicking crowd. All he had to do was mimic the hurried pace and fearful expressions of those running away from the spreading pool of blood. Though panic certainly made the press of bodies all that much more annoying.

He was half way through the city gate before a guard blocked his path, “Halt, the city is in lockdown.”

He gave the stern looking guard a confused look, “What, why? What happened?” Years of practise had the confusion and curiosity in his voice sound almost perfectly genuine. Almost.

A scowl crossed the elderly guard’s face, the expression twisting his greying mustache into an ugly shape. “That’s none of your concern, citizen. Head back to your residence.”

Were Zalc less skilled he may have missed the way the guard’s eyes flickered briefly to a spot behind and above him as his hand slowly traveled to his blade. As it was, the Serpent planted his blade in the man’s heart in an instant, grabbing the shocked man’s vest and twisting him around to block the arrow shot at his back in the same moment.

The murderous thief wiped his blade on the guard’s ornate cloak, his frown unchanging as his serpentine yellow eyes scanned the area. The same eyes for which his mother beat him, locked with the wide blue of the archer that just planted an arrow in his senior’s back. The soldier couldn’t have been more than thirteen; his shocked eyes testifying to his lack of combat experience. Zalc didn’t even blink as he drew the dead guard’s dagger and flung it at the young marksmen; the blade twirling through the air before burying itself hilt deep in the boy’s chest.

He dropped the old guard’s body to the cracked stone tiled floor as he turned and sprinted for the treeline; much as he would have loved to have a shield, he couldn’t afford the dead weight slowing him down. Arrows impacted the earth around him, kicking up small stones as he zig-zagged randomly to avoid being hit; his disturbingly jerky movements and unnatural speed throwing off the novice company’s aim.  He was lucky, anyone with real skill was currently on the front lines; they could have caused him trouble given their experience fighting elves and other such fast moving creatures.

The company of morons didn't even seem to know how to volley fire; each one individually attempting to hit him; expending their ammunition as fast as they could. One idiot, somewhat impressively, managed to dump every single arrow in his quiver in the dirt in the first six seconds.

A faint smile crossed his face for a moment as he broke through the treeline, arrows thunking into the trees around him. His smile faded as he heard dull thuds and breaking twigs behind him, ‘Bastards just don’t give up, do they?’ He scowled, slowing slightly to allow them to catch up; better to deal with the problem here than let them track him down.

He whirled, a brace of throwing daggers flying from his hands. The deadly blades flew through the air as the Serpent resumed his flight through the woods. The short lengths of steel took the pursuing guardsmen by surprise, three of the twenty going down with metal in their trachea; six more barely managed to dodge, receiving shallow cuts just barely missing the carotid… except one wide eyed boy who was just a touch too slow and swiftly bled out on the forest floor a few seconds after.

A dark smile crossed his face as he leapt up into the branches above, blending into the dark leaves as the pursuing soldiers passed underneath him. A cold pleasure flowed through him as he watched those who escaped with “superficial” wounds begin to stumble and slow; he wasn't called the Serpent for nothing after all. A chilling smile spread across his face as the wounded soldiers collapsed to their knees before falling flat on their faces; the lethal toxin coating his blades taking effect.

The killer dropped down behind the novice soldiers, his dark blade in hand. The first to fall didn’t even realise the Serpent was there until he felt his own blood flowing down his chest from his opened throat. It was only as he reached the final guardsmen that things changed.

This guard, decked out in gaudy black armour with golden highlights suddenly whirled around, his long blade flashing through the air. The surprising blow would have cut the Serpent in half had he not contorted backwards to avoid the blade.

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A sickle like smile spread across the Serpent’s face as he placed his hands on the ground beneath him, kicking his legs up towards the blond soldier’s chin. The blue-eyed guard easily evaded the blow; lashing out with his curved, ebony blade to cut the ruthless killer from crotch to crown.

Zalc merely bent his wrists backwards unnaturally; moving his whole body just enough to avoid the blow before, using only the strength of his arms, he leapt into the air. His long black hair trailing behind him as he sprang up, seeing the symbol of the blond’s rank as he rose through the air to lock eyes with him.

The Captain’s single eye widened minutely as the assassin’s blade swung at his throat; the sheer oddity of the mercenary’s movements throwing him off. Fortunately for the lawman, his surprise wasn’t enough to throw off his instincts and he managed to lean back quick enough to dodge the deadly blade; if only barely.

Zalc grinned as he landed on his feet a short distance from his foe; an expression so utterly lacking in humanity that it wouldn’t look out of place on an alligator. The blond guard narrowed his eye, his white-knuckle grip on his blade’s mint green hilt tightening even further as the killer before him began to laugh, the sound so bone-chillingly cold he could have sworn the air misted around the man.

Nothing about the murderer’s posture changed as he flung a dagger at the lawman before him, mirthless eyes coldly evaluating the man’s reaction even as he continued to laugh; the psychotic sound unnerving his foe. The Serpent’s yellow eyes widened slightly as the Captain merely placed his blade in the projectile’s path, the dagger’s own force seeing it cut in twain on the swordsman’s superior steel.

Zalc’s eyes narrowed as the two halves of the blade continued past the man, their paths diverted just enough to not hit him. Something was wrong; no mere guard captain should be able to get their hands on a weapon of such quality. The Serpent’s blades were finely crafted and reinforced with runes; no guardsman's blade should be able to cut through them with such ease.

The thief tossed his blade into the air, smirking as the guardsman’s eye followed the blade’s whirling path before the merc whipped both arms forth, flinging eight daggers through the air simultaneously. The swordsman turned to the side to lower his profile, his blade blurring as he slashed at those blades he couldn’t dodge.

The Serpent’s face became utterly cold as a blue rune lit up with an icy blue light on each of the blades just as they passed by the guard captain. The man’s single eye widened in shock as the icy light dyed his body before the blades exploded. The man’s body was pulverised, most of his organs simply turned to a semi-liquid mush that was scattered across the forestry, shattered bones and rent armour sticking out of the trees and ground. Oddly, the man’s blade was perfectly intact; the black blade simply laying atop the pile of scattered offal without so much as a scratch to testify to the multiple small explosions it just weathered.

Zalc caught and sheathed his blade in one smooth movement, a faint grimace on his face. That explosion was bound to draw some unwanted attention from the other search parties that were doubtless sent to find him considering the numerous casualties at his hand (and the apparent value of his stolen goods).  He turned to sprint away before pausing and looking back at the man’s undamaged blade with a contemplative look. He shrugged, moving forth to pick the weapon up; might as well take it for himself.

He reached down to pluck the sword from the sanguine pile it lay in, yellow eyes running over the blade evaluatively. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt a jolt ran through him and he felt his hand clench against his will. His eyes widened as black veins spread up his arm before fading away; though it left behind a strange buzzing of energy just beneath his skin.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling of this strange energy. When nothing changed after several seconds the Serpent sighed, glancing around surreptitiously to see if any of the search parties had caught up to him while he was distracted. Seeing only a squirrel (which he killed, just to be sure) he gave his new sword another look before continuing his flight from Uld.

By the Black Eyes, he hated Uld; a wretched little nation of puritans, everyone of them worshiping Kriis and constantly engaging in a holy war in her name. The human supremacist religion made infiltration rather difficult for a creature like Zalc; yellow eyes with slitted pupils are rather harder to hide than the pointy ears of Elves. He was lucky he hadn’t run into any Paladines or Inquisitors, even the lowest of their number would have been able to sense the touch of Asdbfsdzndnh on him if they got close enough.

His forked tongue flicked out to taste the air as he moved through the forest as quickly as he could whilst retaining what he deemed an acceptable level of stealth. He could taste the distant guardsmen, their pathetic endurance leaving them exhausted not ten miles from the capital.

It didn’t take the Serpent long to find a suitable cavern to hole up in and take stock of his stolen goods. He knew a dead sprint to the border would be a poor decision; given the high profile of his crime he was sure the constantly shifting frontline of their “holy” war would be on the lookout for anyone attempting to leave, especially in a hurry. Not only would they be looking for him, he would be at the very least tired once he arrived, making capture or death far more likely.

He frowned, looking around his temporary domicile; not the worst place he’d been forced to take shelter in, but certainly not the best. He had slept in palaces before (mostly in the walls and rafters, but still)! Scowling, he pulled his cloak closer around him and settled into the darkest and most “comfortable” looking corner, leaning his stolen blade against the wall next to him.

Zalc pulled his satchel, heavy with ill gotten gains, onto his lap. Slowly, carefully he pulled the heavy object free; staring into the gleaming surface with a grin. From what his employer told him it was one of the largest gems in the world, and he believed them. Nearly a foot across oblong jewel glittered in a light that wasn’t there. Were it not for the thin green veins interlacing the object he would swear it was polished obsidian.

A sharp crack drew him from his revelry and had him shooting to his feet, dagger in hand. His eyes quickly scanned the shadows, his tongue flicking out to taste the air; searching for any sign of an intruder. His eyes flicked to the walls searching for the signs of burrowing invaders. Another crack drew his gaze to the “gem” lying at his feet.

The Serpent’s yellow eyes widened, across the ebony face of the “jewel” was a lattice of hairline fractures; each one widening rapidly.

Panic flashed in his eyes for a moment before he desperately started trying to hold the valuable object together. His efforts merely sped up its destruction, the pressure meant to keep it together pushing it apart.

He stared at the shattered remains of his mission for several seconds, his wide eyes slowly shifting from the beautiful shards to the strange creature that emerged from it. ‘Is… is that a Quetzalcoatl? That “gem" was an egg…’ rage suffused his visage, “That motherfucker set me up!”