The Gate Keeper

Nyal Belthorne breathed in the fresh, clean air of the forest, listening to the sound of the wind rushing through the leaves, the birds chirping, the animals going about their daily business. He stood in a clearing, surrounded by tall trees and shrubs.

The sun was shining high above him, casting dark shadows into the clearing. It was a warm, near cloudless day, something normal at this time of the year. It would be winter soon, and Nyal wanted to get as much sun as he could get.

He lived in Skodur, in the middle of Veridun. To the north was Ammos, a hot desret landscape. In the south was Voda and Riba, two large kingdoms on the coast famous for their seafood. In the mountains to the west was Planina, an entire kingdom scattered among the mountains. In the east there were a great many cities, and a great many kings fighting for control of the entire east part of Veridun. It was a mess in the east, and the people of Skodur mostly ignored it.

Nyal sat down in the fresh, bright grass, relishing in the feel of the blades against his skin. He didn't wear much, black pants and a brown tunic, a black vest over the top, unbuttoned. His sword and sheath were next to him, lying on his knee length black coat. His boots sat next to them, upright and unbuckled.

He rested his hands on his knees, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of nature around him. The chirping of the birds, the little pitter patter of a rabbit as it moved about, a frog ribbiting near the rushing river to the left of him. He loved it.

He wouldn't get this for much longer. One, because of winter, and two, because the WGP was sending him east, to Fiume, where a lot of the fighting was going on. He didn't want to go, he would miss the forest, but at the same time he knew he would enjoy Fiume.

Fiume was a city half on the water, half on the land. The rich lived on houses that looked as though they floated on the water, while the poor lived on the land nearby. The rich part of the city sat on the Fiume River, the longest river in Veridun.

Water was Nyal affinity, his power, what he controlled. He flowed with the liquid, became one with it, so as to use it when he needed. That's why he was was so excited about Fiume. From what WGP told him, he would be staying on the river, as close to the water as he could get without being in it.

He left in a week, and would be there for as long as it took to do his job. Which, with the current situation in Fiume, could be a while.

Nyal sighed, lying back in the grass. The wind blew above him, the cool breeze a perfect partner for the bright yellow sun. He would have to back soon, the WGP requested that he come in once a day, for a reason unknown to him. Surveillance, most likely, need to keep and eye on your assets.

He'd go soon, he did have all day after all. For now, he'd just lie about, and do nothing. He smiled, he really was lazy. In his defense, he probably did deserve a day off at least once.

He sighed again, opening his eyes to the bright blue sky. Today was probably not that day. He sat and stood up, stretching his arms high above his head. He breathed in the cool air once more, not really wanting to leave. Yes, he could come back tomorrow, but it might not be as beautiful then.

Reaching down, he grabbed his sword, attaching it back to his belt. He didn't use it much, only when it was really necessary, like when he traveled to Ammos, and there wasn't much water for him to use.

He picked up his coat, but didn't put it on. It was far too hot for the thick coat today. He slung it over his shoulder, feeling like a model as the wind blew at his hair. He wasn't unattractive, according to some of the women he'd been with, but he wasn't gorgeous either. He had light brown, almost blonde hair, with strands of darker hair visible throughout. He had small bright cerulean eyes, and when combined with his oddly shaped eyebrows made him look constantly angry. He had an angular face, all sharp and pointy, high cheekbones and pointy chin. He had thin lips that always seemed to be turned down in a frown.

He was almost thirty and tall, very much so. He towered over most others in Skodur, who's people were naturally short. He was born in Riba, near the ocean. In Riba and Voda people were very tall, the average being more than six feet. He was skinny, yet toned, years of training allowing him to gain some muscles, but keep his slim figure.

He turned, heading out of the clearing. If he looked up, he could see the top of castle that sat in the centre of Skodur's capital, Dreeva. King Leopold ruled over the kingdom, and had for almost sixty years. The people of Dreeva, and probably of all of Skodur, could tell that his son, William, was getting sick of waiting for the throne. By the time the old king died, William would be an old man. It was a common joke among the people of the city, one that Nyal had heard, and even made, often.

The view was quickly blocked by copious amounts of lush, green trees. Sunlight seeped through in patches, making the forest seem all the more mystifying. A bird flew by his face, shocking him into a laugh. He grinned as he walked, taking in his surroundings.

Nyal had only moved about a hundred metres into the trees, if he turned he could still see the clearing he had just been in. The forest around him seemed to grow darker and he could feel a chill run down his spine. Something was wrong. The forest never felt like this.

He stopped, listening and looking around himself. The river was still rushing to the right of him now, but the animals were quiet. He could see much besides from green and brown. There were no birds, no rabbits, nothing, not even the frog from earlier.

That's when he heard it, the footsteps, the panting breath. Behind him!

Nyal moved quickly, a creature of habit, running to the nearest tree and climbing until he was high in the branches, invisible to prying eyes. He looked around for an available source of water nearby, maybe some left on the leaves from the rain the night before. There was none. The river would have to do if he needed it.

He calmed his breathing, his heart rate slowing down to a reasonable level. He was probably just overreacting, but years of fighting have taught him to always be on guard.

He crouched in the tree, watching the ground below him and listening for the footsteps. They were coming closer, closer, until they were right under his tree.

They stopped, and the sound of panting breaths could be heard. Nyal looked down. Below him was a man with dark brown hair, dressed in royal garb. He couldn't see any other details of the man, not height or features.

The man looked behind him, taking a step away from Nyal's tree. He was being chased, that much was obvious, by who or what, was unknown. Another set of footsteps could not be heard, no matter how much Nyal tried. Apparently, the man could hear some, as he scampered away from the tree and further into the forest, towards the river.

Nyal followed the man, jumping from tree to tree, as silent as possible. This used to be his favourite thing to do when he was in his teenage years. he could spend hours just swinging from tree to tree like the monkeys he'd heard about, the ones that lived in the jungles near Fiume.

The man ran until he hit the river, tripping over roots and running into bushes in his hurry to get away from whatever was chasing him. His fist was clenched tight, as if he was holding something.

Thief, maybe? he thought, Running from someone perhaps? Nyal had seen plenty of this with his job, chasing down thieves and criminals. He sighed, back to work already.

He stopped at the bank of the river, looking down at the water like it was going to hurt him. It will if you are what I think you are, Nyal thought, swinging onto a nearby tree, watching the man again.

He still couldn't hear or see what or who was chasing him, and was growing more confused by the minute.

He heard a strange thwumping noise, and his vision was filled with black. He blinked, falling backwards, almost out of the tree.

The black passed, and the leaves and trees were visible again. Nyal scrambled as far forward as he could without falling out, trying to get a glimpse at what the hell just fell from the sky.

A person, wearing black hooded robes that went down to their feet, layered in such a way that tattered cloth sat over the top of the main part of the robes. Their face was hidden by the large hood. That wasn't the most important thing, no, far from it.

Wings! Large, black wings stretched out from the person's back, reaching high up into the trees. That must have been what he saw when they landed. That must be why he couldn't here them, they had been flying the whole time!

"Finally," the person, no, the woman, growled, "Stop this, give me what is rightfully mine."

So, he is a thief, Nyal thought, watching the scene in silence, his bottom lip between his teeth. Who in the name of the gods would steal from someone like that?

The man laughed, clenching his fist tighter. "Yours? This was never yours!" he growled, taking a step towards the bank. "It was always ours!"

The woman's wings flared out again, one striking a tree opposite Nyal. She took a step towards the man. "Give it back, or I'll take it by force," she snarled, "You know I can. I've already chased you from Ammos to here."

All the way from Ammos! That was days away from Skodur, a week by horse! How had they run this far? What were they?

Nyal decided to step in then, despite his worry and fear and confusion. It looked like something was about to go down, and it was part of his job to stop that, no matter who or what it was.

He dropped from the tree to the left of the winged woman, catching the attention of both of them. The man stood up straighter, looking down his nose at Nyal. He had bright blue eyes, framed by wrinkles. He was familiar, but Nyal couldn't tell where from.

The woman, he could barely see her face, as it was still shrouded by her hood. He could see pale skin, and black curly hair that ran down her shoulders and chest.

"Who are you?" the woman asked, not meanly, curiously, like he was a creature she had never encountered before.

"My name is Nyal Belthorne," he started. At that, the man seemed to take a step back. Did he know who Nyal was? A lot of people did. The woman however, looked like she had no idea who he was. "I am a member of the Warlock Guild of Protection, and as a member, must ask you to calmly settle whatever problem you have with each other." He always had to start it like that, even though he knew most of the time it wouldn't work.

This time was no exception. "Too bad, kid," the man said, "Not gonna happen." The man put whatever was clenched in his fist in his pants pocket and removed his pale blue coat. Underneath was a waistcoat and white dress shirt. The waistcoat had the Ammos emblem on it. The man was a royal servant in Ammos? What was he doing here?

The longer Nyal was around these people, the more confused he was getting.

"Can't leave behind any witnesses," the man growled. He stepped towards Nyal, who's eyes widened to the size of saucers. The woman, for all their arguing, did nothing to help.

Nyal took a fighting stance, weary. He had no idea what he was going up against. Just as he thought that, the man's eyes turned a deep, unsettling red, fixing his glare on Nyal. He took a step forward, holding his hands out to his sides. As he walked, the caught alight, sending a bright orange glow throughout the forest.

Nyal's breathing sped up. He glanced towards the winged woman, but she did nothing. No warlock could do that, set their body parts on fire, it would burn them, but this person didn't seem to care about that. Nyal glanced between the man's hands and his eyes, which were beginning to grow black-green scales around them, like a snake or lizard.

Nyal lifted his arms, lifting up water from the river. The man didn't seem to notice, only lifted up his own flaming hand, preparing to strike. Before he could, Nyal doused his hand with the water, smirking at the man and getting more water.

He surrounded himself in orbs of water the size of his head, ignoring the winged woman, she seemed to not want to get involved, fine to let the two men battle it out. The man growled loudly, coming for Nyal, his hands on fire again.

He struck, shooting fire from his hand, only to be blocked by one of the many floating orbs. Nyal moved to the side, firing one of the balls at his opponent, knocking him back. He continued to land hits on the man, until he was knee deep in the river. It only seemed to anger the man more, his attacks becoming sporadic and harsh.

Nyal was unprepared for the battering of fire he got, blocking every one with his water, but unable to hurt the man himself. The fire seared and burned his face and arms, most likely leaving some kind of scar. Not like he didn't have enough already.

He tried to get more water from the river, the trees, anywhere! But there wasn't time, the man was in front of him, mouth open in an inhuman roar that hurt Nyal's ears. He tried to get away, but found himself backed against a tree.

In all honesty, he felt a little ashamed of himself. He was known as one of the most powerful warlocks in the realm, and he was about to die after a five minute fight.

The man's mouth opened wide, and instead of the usual tongue and teeth, it was blue, bright blue. Flame, it was flame!

The fire shot of the man's mouth, streaking towards Nyal with no time to stop it. He wasn't even sure water could stop it. All he registered what heat, immense heat. Then it was black. He heard a scream, he was sure it was his, he was sure he was dead.

He wasn't. The scream wasn't his. It was the winged woman. She had stuck her wing out in front of him, taking the hit from the man. She collapsed to the ground, cradling her injured wing. The man was gone and there was no sign of which way he had gone.

He looked down at the woman, her hood had come off, revealing the strangest and scariest eyes he had ever seen. The sclera was pitch black, as was the pupil, but the iris was a bright, near florescent green. They were teared up, tear tracks running down her cheeks. her wing covered her entire body. There was a patch of her wing that were burned away, any of the feathers that were left were burned to a crisp, black against the raw muscle that was visible.

He crouched down next to her, looking at her incredulously. "Why?" he asked, "Why did you do that?"

She did reply, only stood, towering over him. She pulled her hood back over her head and stretched her wings out. She visible winced, but it didn't phase her. She took off, letting out a yelp as she flapped her injured wing.

"Wait! I can-" he started, but she was already high above the trees, out of hearing range. "-Heal you." He sat there, staring ahead of him with wide eyes, knees pressed into the now soaking grass, question everything that had happened in the last ten minutes.