Vicious Magick (6 page)

Varello walks across the plains, his lute
slung across his back. He whistles to himself, dejected and
frustrated by his failure. He hears a whooshing sound and looks up
to see a green, scaly mass projecting itself towards him at many
feet per second per second.

He just barely manages to dive behind a tree
as the dragon impacts the ground with the force of a meteor. He
scrambles into a ditch, the tree exploding into flame and cinders
behind him.

Kragnar looms large over Varello, hiding him
in the cold expanse of his shadow. In desperation, Varello produces
his lute and starts plucking a lullaby.

Kragnar topples backwards.

Zanther, Madra, and Novanostrum are walking
along the dusty trail linking Claustria with the Deathlands. Madra
looks nervously at her companions.

“So…which way is Claustria?”

They’re at a fork in the trail, with the left
path leading to a gloomy, overcast, darkened horizon. The right
path leads toward sunshine, with birds chirping and a rainbow
extending past their field of vision.

“Well,” Novanostrum says, “we’re going to the
Deathstrech, which is this way,” and he points towards the
gathering stormclouds. A sickly crow circles around for a second,
then falls out of the sky, dead. “Claustria is that way,” he says,
indicating towards the sunshine and the rainbow, “if you walk
quickly, you might even make it back before sundown. You’re sure
you don’t want to come with us?”

Her eyes linger on the dead crow. “No, I
think I should be with my people.”

The Deathstretch

The Deathstretch is a place best avoided.
While at times it may seem that the best way to get from point A to
point B is to travel through the Deathstretch, most sane folks
realize that the vermicious creatures and manxome beasties that
live there make point B seem like a rather silly place to want to
go at all. And yet, some still try.

Of the minority of travelers who manage to
escape the Deathstretch with their lives, nearly all agree they
would never go back. They talk of shadows with teeth and plants
with claws, of things too vile to describe.

This place wasn’t always the bastion of hope
and good times it is today, it used to be an enchanted little wood
haunted by the ghosts of lost children and careless hunters. This
was until a hundred years ago, when a military skyship containing a
secret magickal weapon crashed in the middle of the wood releasing
an untold amount of dark energies and creating the renowned pit of
fetid decay which has become known as the Deathstretch.

Varello lands his dragonic steed in front of
the megadoor to the Deus Palatium. The guards part to allow him
entry. He takes long strides, walking through a few more doors to
find himself in front of the Pontiflex Minor.

“Your Holiness, I was able to locate the
target, but it seems the map has passed to a certain Zanther Maus.
I chased him as far as Claustria Castle, but it was there that he
eluded me.”

“I’m aware. I have soldiers arriving in
Claustria as we speak. As for your failure, I know you will be
honored to be expaled as a sacrifice to the Two True Gods.”

“Expaled?”

“Yes,” he says with a flourish of his hand,
“guards, if you will.”

“So…you’re not going to pay me, then?”

“No, you’re to be expaled straightaway.”

“Indulge me, your Holiness, and imagine that
I just damned you with a really clever threat.”

“Hm?”

Varello pulls something from his sleeve and
smashes it onto the ground, filling the room with smoke. When it
clears, he’s gone. The guards rush to the palace’s megadoor to see
a dragon flying off into the horizon.