On The Edge of Blades (Chapter 3.5)

Theseus stood cloaked in a deep and swirling darkness that matched the jagged blade of his sword. He remembered when he signed the second contract, when he first touched Afsir.

He understood Exous; pain was simple, generic. But suffering, suffering ran much deeper than his scars ever could.

He was never given a choice. The embers of Afsir had been forced upon him. They told him that he needed the flame to survive. The world outside of the city was as cruel as the one within…

Theseus felt a breeze brush against his blade. He stood on one of the many tiles that formed the roof of an upper layer manor and was unsheltered from the nightly gales that roared above the city.

Oil lamps illuminated the quiet and unpolluted streets below, and every house was well maintained. Theseus knew men who dreamed of such a world- prim, pristine, and proper-  they would have called it a Utopia. But, he was not one of them; he much preferred the grime.

“I’m too old for this,” Theseus muttered to himself, unclipped the latch and slipping through the rooftop skylight.

The walls of the Manor Turgour were dressed in a deep red paint that almost matched that of blood. Yet, Theseus did not stop to look at the many paintings and tapestries that he knew hung all around him. This was no petty crime. It was hidden somewhere in the manor, and he would find it.

Theseus drew Afsir, letting the timeless flame consume him. Instantly, the world expanded as if moments before he had been blind. He could sense everything all at once. The soft fabric hood rough and jagged against his skin. His own heartbeat like a drum. The faint smell of a meal cooked hours ago- was it venison?  And he heard soft shallow breathing coming from a nearby room- a guard perhaps, or a bedroom?

If he had more time, he would have taken a safer approach. The guild leaders and politicians hid vaults in hollow cavities that could be found in a few days of probing; Theseus did not have a few days.

Letting his enhanced hearing guide him, Theseus walked towards the breathing. In a few steps he reached a door. It was white and decorated with intricate patterns. He turned the knob, but it was locked.

Theseus reached into his bottom-right-middle pocket and pulled out the set of picks. Picking locks was not a grand skill, but it had saved him as many times as his blade.

It only took a few minutes to pick a lock, and this one was simple. It was not long until the three pins preventing the knob from rotating had been pushed out of position and…

Click.

The sound of the knob yielding was faint, yet to Theseus almost deafening. He turned the doorknob and opened the door. The loud creaking did little to awaken the young woman who slept alone on her luxurious mattress.

The woman seemed a typical noble- she wore gold earrings and necklace, and her short blond hair was well styled. Yet, with his enhanced eyesight, Theseus could see the outline of two daggers resting on her mahogany bedside table.

Theseus smiled to himself as he pulled his hood further over his head. The plan was working better than he had thought.

 She was of one of the prominent Houses- in this case Turgour. Named after the Founder that they claimed as their lineage.

 Theseus knew little of the city’s politics. Relationships between noble houses, however, were always heated. An assault on House Turgour would not be taken lightly.

Slowly, he let the flame fade from his body and approached the bed. The heightened senses would only distract him from what he needed to do.

He grabbed the daggers from the bedside table and tossed them towards the door. His hand wrapped around the woman’s throat and squeezed, but the woman was gone. In panic Theseus let Afsir overtake him feeling the cold burning that he knew all to well.

Time slowed down. Thousands of smells- meat, wood, the smoke from a distant fire- and, the room was so bright that he could hardly see. Every drop of nervous sweat crept across his skin like a tiger. His heartbeat was a pounding drum, and he heard breathing- his own and someone else’s coming from the door. And then, something immeasurably sharp pressed against the back of his neck.

“Who sent you?” Lady Turgour’s voice was incredibly loud though he suspected it to be little more than a whisper, “Kedas? Deades? Or was it one of the guilds?”

Slowly, Theseus turned to face the scantily clad woman whose brilliant white dagger was floating against his neck. He felt for Exous.

“Who says I wasn’t sent by all of them?” Theseus stalled for time. The dark sword was inching towards the other side of the room.

“I know the nobles, there is nothing they hate more than working together. It’s surprising enough that the Houses are able to exist in the first place.” The Lady nervously flipped a much darker dagger in her hand.

“I can’t tell you who I’m working for. Though if you wanted to pay perhaps I could leave a clue with your corpse.” Theseus slipped seamlessly into the character that he had created.

“I’m holding a blade to your throat-” Lady Turgour was cut off.

“So am I.” Theseus’ jagged sword levitated in the darkness behind the woman.

“Bladebound…,” Lady Turgour questioned to herself, “What are they after?”

“It appears we are at an impasse.” The Lady spoke louder.

“Perhaps, perhaps not…,” Theseus replied as silence stretched through the room.

Theseus knew many users of Exous, yet even some of the best did not understand the duality of it. Many focused on pushing- moving the weapon around like an arrow or a spear but neglected the other half- pulling. Theseus was not one of them…

A loud thump rang through Theseus’ enhanced ears as he fell to the hardwood floor. And, he let the power of the first contract flow through his veins. He was the sword, the sword was him, fast, agile, sharp. They were one and the same.

He anchored the blade into the wall behind the Lady and pulled. The blade fought to free itself from the wall, but the wood held, and Theseus instead shot towards his sword. He collided with Lady Turgour and, before she could react, knocked the black dagger away. He had pinned the young woman to the floor.

 “Tell me where it is?” Theseus’ breath was heavy with exertion.

“What?”

“The sword.” He wrapped his hand around the woman’s neck.

Her face darkened a flash of fear and realization darting across her eyes, “How do you know? No one knows.”

“Where is it?” Theseus gritted his teeth and tightened his fingers around her neck.

“Under the rug,” she choked, “Hollow floor”

He released her and drew himself from the ground. The white dagger shot from across the room, but Theseus was ready. He sliced the dagger from the air and drove it deep into the floor.

“Try that again and you will lose more than your weapon?” Theseus’ voice was cold.

The Lady whimpered indecipherably and backed through the door. Distantly, Theseus could hear the sounds of footsteps, people were waking up, he was running out of time. The lavish and soft rug flew through the air as Theseus began testing the floorboards beneath.

Eventually, one of the yellow-brown boards rang hollow. In a splintering crunch, the black sword pierced into the cavity beneath, and Theseus pulled out what he had been looking for.

The dark blade was nondescript, uniform, and in better condition than his own. But the Bladebound weapon, was not for him, it was for Syra.

Theseus dumped the last of his Aiolium Oil and Powder onto the dry wooden floor. With a strike of flint and steel the room erupted into unquenchable emerald flame. And, he jumped through, shattering a bedroom window as he fell into the dark night below.

Exous rushed over Theseus as he fell from the four-story bedroom. He anchored the sword into the side of the burning manor, but even as the jagged sword pierced into the walls Theseus knew it was too late. He wouldn’t be able to pull up faster than he was accelerating downwards, he would slow the fall, but it would still be lethal.

Cursing to himself Theseus released the upwards pull and drew all he could on the other power of Afsir. The ice and the flame. He hit the ground…

The smooth stone street cracked into hundreds of pieces as Theseus’ enhanced muscles absorbed the impact of his fall. Behind him Manor Turgour burned in a ghostly emerald light. It was late at night, but many nearby windows glowed with the fire of candles and lamps. The people were too curious not to watch the burning, but too afraid to leave their homes.

Theseus pushed away the Second Contract, pulled his sword to him, and started to run. He could feel the fatigue wash over him, Afsir already taking its price. But years of training told him he still had time.

In the darkness he was little more than a shadow, and as the upper layer of the City watched the emerald flames of change, Theseus disappeared…