Chapters:

Chapter 1

The Unicorn’s Horn Tavern, nestled within the hustle and bustle of Seed-Ni, was unusually full. Patrons, their faces bright with eager anticipation, packed the common room and all struggled to find a place closest to the darkened stage. They waited with hushed voices for the show to begin. They had seen this spectacle every night for the past week, but tonight was special. It was the last show; the Grand Finale. There was surely something spectacular about to happen.

A murmur ran through the crowd as a man walked onto the stage. He was extravagantly dressed, though some would call him needlessly flamboyant. He wore a rich silk shirt in royal blue with matching slacks. His vest was a deep crimson that matched his long flowing cape. Upon his head he wore a ridiculously large brimmed hat of crimson felt with a royal blue feather that seemed to sprout from the band. His hands and feet were garbed in leather gloves and boots, respectively, and were dyed crimson to match. He raised those hands and twin pillars of sapphire flames erupted behind him to light the stage and throw his shadows across the room. He was the Magician and he was ready to perform.

The crowd stood in silent awe as the Magician created an arc of energy and ran from one hand to the other. This arc he fashioned into a circle and placed it in the air where it floated four feet off of the stage. Then the Magician began to incite words of power, mere nonsense that was only used to add mystery to his works, and as his words reached their pinnacle and his voice the crescendo, sparks of crimson and blue flew from the ring and its center turned glassy. It formed a liquid pool within the ring of energy and from that pool emerged a beast of sapphire flame.

The crowd roared with delight though the Magician caught some screams of fright as the fiery beast formed into a tiger that stalked the stage in front of him. He flicked his wrist and a whip formed of crackling energy appeared in his hand. He snapped the whip once, twice, thrice, and the tiger leapt into the ring to disappear from sight. With a snap of his fingers, the whip vanished and a clap of his hands caused the ring to fold in on itself until it too was gone.

The crowd clapped wildly and screamed for more. The Magician, though tired, was happy to oblige. He removed a knife and a piece of wood from one of the many pockets hidden within his clothes. Impossibly fast and incredibly accurate, the Magician created a small wooden mouse. He then took another piece of wood and formed a wooden cat. He placed both figurines on the floor and stepped back.

His hands worked deftly, lines of energy playing back and forth between his fingertips. He formed two spheres of flame and with a gentle puff of air, the two spheres flew from his hands and entered the figurines which abruptly came to life. The mouse ran by the cat and the cat gave chase all along the stage, invoking thunderous applause and laughter from the crowd. However, the Magician was far from done. Right as the cat caught and consumed the mouse, the cat too was consumed by a dog formed of sapphire flames. The crowd oohed and awed and the Magician prepared his final trick.

He began by tracing in the air and where his gloved fingers moved a trail of blue flame followed leaving runic markings flaring before him. Once he had completed six runes, he slapped them all with the palm of his hand and they flew to different corners of the room. He then repeated the process several times until flaming runes filled the air above the crowd. The Magician interlaced his fingers with the thumbs connected pointing towards him and his connected index fingers pointed towards the roof.

"Zanous!" he shouted.

The true word of command caused the runes to explode creating little sparks of light; an indoor fireworks show that granted him another thunderous ovation. The Magician swept off his hat to reveal his shoulder length brown hair tied in a tail, and not a small amount of sweat, and bowed low. He replaced his hat and, with a sweeping motion, the magic fires behind him and the runes exploding runes above, died as quickly as they had appeared to once again leave the room in darkness. The Magician stepped backstage to find the innkeeper waiting for him.

"Zan, Zan, Zan!" shouted the innkeeper in a cheerful voice. "That was your most spectacular performance yet. Why, we’ve made more money in the week you’ve been with us than we have all year. More money tonight than we have the rest of this week. Are you sure you won’t stay for longer?"

"Alas," came the Magician’s reply. "I cannot. As I have told you I am called away on business and I must leave tonight."

"I know. I know." The innkeeper sounded generally disappointed. "Can’t blame me for tryin’ though. The great Zan Espial brings in quite the pretty penny. However, say you’ll come back? Next time you are in Seed-Ni? Would you return?"

"I’ll tell you what, if time allows then I’ll return. It is rare that I get paid so well for my skills." Zan smiled as he hefted his coin purse.

"Ah yes. Here’s your earning for tonight." The innkeeper said as he handed Zan a bag of coin. "Plus a little extra doing such a great job."

With that, Zan said his goodbyes and made his way out of the tavern. He had lied to the innkeeper. He still had business to take care of in the city, but it wasn’t the kind that he was known for and he didn’t need any innkeeper poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Being a traveling magician could be profitable, but it just wasn’t profitable enough.

Zan found himself in the seedier side of Seed-Ni. Refuse littered the streets and, try as he might; he was unable to block the horrible stench of decay that assaulted his nostrils. Distressed moans escaped the lips of the huddled masses and Zan shuddered at the memory of once being one of the destitute.

If Zan could have had it his way, he would forever avoid such places. However, his true line of work required Zan to do many tasks that he would rather avoid, especially where his partner was concerned. Zan hated the dark side of his secretive life, but he knew the importance of his work and he held the hope that, using his connections and his cash flow, he would eventually discover the truth of his past.

An inn stood before him. Destitute and dank, the Crescent Moon was a vast contrast to the luxury and finery of Zan’s previous lodgings. Zan only knew the name of the inn through his contacts. The sign that held the inn’s name has been smashed long ago and no one had felt the need to replace it. Few in the city knew the name, but Zan didn’t think that anyone really cared to learn either. Inside this rat infested hovel was Cain, Zan’s partner, and one of the people that he detested most in the entire world.

Zan entered the building and scanned the common room. The lighting was dim and it flickered like candle light, flooding the room with strange, eerie shadows. A thick smoke from pipes and cigars filled the room with an acrid odor. Thugs and brutes gathered in the corners of the room, leaving the center tables oddly empty. The barstools in the front were loaded with drunks and a shifty-looking bartender kept the drinks flowing with a greedy look in his eye.

Zan almost gagged as the atmosphere of the common room collided with the air from outside. His senses reeled for a few seconds before he grew accustomed to stench. All eyes turned toward Zan, in his flamboyant robes and over-sized fedora, but they immediately looked away. The denizens of the underworld of Gaea knew of the extravagantly clad magician. They had heard of his prowess and these dregs had no intention of becoming involved in his business. Zan ignored their reaction, pulled his magnificent, plumed fedora over his brow and swaggered nonchalantly towards a small table in the back of the room.

Seated at the table was a hulk of a man with a terrible visage. Dressed in all black with a huge sword resting comfortably by his side, Cain was not a pretty sight. His black hair was cropped short and his eyes were like pools of ink that seemed to draw a man in with their ferocity. His nose had been broken countless times and was now more that a bulbous mass with twin holes that flared when he breathed. A vicious, angry red scar ran along the entire left side of his face, from forehead to chin, barely leaving him with his left eye intact. His mouth was a thin line that was locked in a perpetual scowl. His only other expressions where rage and a sinister smile that usually came just before and after a kill.

Zan hated the man with a passion, but he respected his abilities. Cain had been born to be a bounty hunter and his skills with a sword where what had led Zan to pair with the hulking brute to begin with. He hated Cain, detested him and his methods, but he didn’t want to cross him without a strategy and a "Plan B".

"Well," Zan smirked in his most off-hand manner as he settled into the chair opposite Cain. "What’s our job for today, Cain ol’ pal?"

"Don’t give me any of your shit Espial." Cain’s voice was a deep, gravelly rasp much like what Zan imagined Death would sound like. "You are over an hour late for our meeting and what the hell did I tell you about wearing that ridiculous outfit around me?"

Zan was irked and he wanted nothing more than to blast Cain with a sphere of white hot flames, but he kept his head. Cain wasn’t his supervisor nor his employer. If anything, Cain was merely a go-between with the bounty hunters guild. However, Zan had let Cain pick the bounties and decide what to do with each one. After all, Zan didn’t really care about the bounties as long as he got paid and he didn’t feel like dealing with the guild himself, but Cain was overstepping his authority. Zan wanted to put the sick bastard in his place, but he knew this wasn’t the time or the place. It would be stupid to goad the dangerous man into a confrontation just yet.

"Look, I was stuck working at an inn. As you know, this is my performance outfit. I was running late and just didn’t have time to change. Forgive me?" Zan put on his most winning smile, but it was only because he knew it would anger Cain.

"Whatever...Just watch yourself you cocky bastard."

"Heh...Now, I’m a little tired from working the inns, so could we get to the specifics of this new bounty?"

"Fine, but if I see you wearing that stupid hat again we’re going to have a problem." Cain spit a load of black gunk onto the floor and removed a rolled up parchment from his pack. "The mark is a renegade student from some military academy out in Parthanage. Name’s Talbain, Ren Talbain. He is wanted on seven counts of murder and suspicion of treason."

"Alive or dead?" Zan asked, though he knew the answer didn’t matter. Cain always preferred dead and he had thousands of excuses to make the bounties fit that description.

"Either." Cain said with a sadistic smirk.

Zan shuddered involuntarily as he took a peek at the parchment. It contained a detailed description of the mark along with that of two other people, a man and a woman. It also listed the bounty price in large, bold script.

"Two thousand gold?" Zan whistled aloud. "This kid must have pissed someone off a whole lot with these murders. I’ve seen serial killers with a smaller bounty. But what’s this about his companions?"

"Heh...Hahahaha." Cain’s laugh was like the bark of a dying seal. "They’re nobodies. The girl is the mark’s cousin. She’s some sorta priestess of Katryana in Andalora. She’s supposedly a healer of miniscule skill. The other guy is some kind of martial artist. Not sure how he is related. Maybe a boyfriend or a family friend. Anyway, they’re no concern. Not even an official bounty, but if we take them back alive we’ll get a hundred silver each. They’re wanted for questioning regarding the suspicion of treason."

"Sounds good enough to me. Anything else or are we done here?"

"The rest of information is on the back of the parchment. These three were last seen boarding a ship bound for Viktoria. We’ll meet them there. We’ll travel separately and meet in Viktoria two days from now to plan. By the route they are taking, we should arrive before they touch land. One last thing, this kid is young, but he’s a proven killer. The victims were his classmates, killed in cold blood. He slaughtered them all with a dagger. You screw around and he’ll take you down hard."

"Yeah, yeah..." Zan shooed off the warning for what it really was, Cain already planning his excuse for killing the kid. Zan would be ready for anything.

He rose from the chair and tipped his hat toward Cain in a mocking gesture. He gathered up the parchment and slipped it into one of his many pockets. With a final mocking wave he left the Crescent Moon and headed back to his inn to gather his horse from the stables. He would leave tonight for Viktoria. He had many plans to prepare.