Marcurio was tending to the fire in the early hours of the morning. He had hardly slept and was quietly striking the embers. He grunted as they came to life, before quickly dying out. The mage grabbed a fresh log, tossing it in and casting a wave of fire after it. The log sparked to life, engulfed in flames. It crackled and sizzled as he stood, glancing at the damage from the previous night. Neither of them had thought to clean up in the situation, and there was a considerably sized mess on the table that bugged him. He gathered up the dishes first, walking to the kitchen. He let the same thoughts run through his mind, mulling over them as he cleaned up the mess. The way she had flinched away from him stuck out to him. With everything that they had been through he never expected her to be scared of him. He set the bowls down, pausing to think. It wasn't her fault, not at all. He could still recall finding her.
It had been two days, and Arabell was supposed to be back hours ago. Perhaps he was overreacting, but the days were winding down, creeping closer towards three. Their agreement stood at three. Marcurio sighed, finishing his drink and grabbing his bag. If she wasn't going to come home, he would just have to find her himself. He put the leather bag over his back, laying out a map, and studying the possible routes to the place she had gone. He traced the warn paper with a finger, following the roads and paths that would get him the closest, and creating his own from there. The mage took one more glance around the house, and at the paper in front of him, before rolling it up and heading for the door.
"What have you got yourself into this time Arabell." He voiced aloud, shutting the door and heading off towards the destination. The roads were long and at times treacherous. Whipping wind that froze everything in its path swirled around him. He shivered, brushing it off and carrying on. He carried one sword that sometimes only collected dust in its holster. It was Arabell's request that he carried a physical weapon, just in case he needed it. Even though he had bantered with her on the topic, he had reluctantly agreed. She made a good point, but his magic still stood as his main weapon.
It took nearly a day for him to find the road he was looking for. He sighed, knowing still there was a long track ahead of him, when a noise caught his attention. Not far up the hill on a small, jutted ridge was a camp. Two hunters sat around a small fire, making conversation as they cooked and gutted there kills for the day. Marcurio wasn't interested in them, but the two tied horses a few paces away from their camp caught his eye. He crept over, gently patting the first horse who was slightly spooked at his sudden presence. He gently pet its gray and white fur, speaking softly to calm the animal. He put together a sizable coin purse, leaving it tied to the rope that had held the horse, climbing into its tall back and taking off up the road. By the time the hunters realized something was wrong, he was gone, leaving the coin purse swinging slowly in its place. The horse breathed heavy, galloping along the dirt path with thundering hooves that echoed through the forest. He pulled the reigns, signaling a hard left. The horse skidded, regaining its footing and picking up the speed in the new direction. The closer they got, the more he worried, and the pit in his stomach signaling something was wrong grew. He scanned the area, on high alert, slowing the horse to a trot. Something caught his eyes, and he smelled the smoke that rose into the air from fireplaces and pits. The towers came into view, and he pulled the horse to a stop. Swinging his leg over his dismounted, leading it by the reins behind a large pine tree and tying the reigns tightly. The horse pawed at the ground, finding a small shrub of greenery to much on.
He flipped his gaze to the fort, carefully treading towards it. In a few places through the snow, dried blood stained the ground. He clenched his jaw, fearing the worst and preparing for it. The fort was abandoned to the novice onlooker, but to an experienced mercenary, slow-moving guards patrolled the paths high above the ground. There was no stealthy way in, but luckily, there were only a few guards on duty. The sun was coming up bright in the chilly air. After a few minutes of careful study, he memorized the pattern they walked, and concentrated. Bolts of lightning formed in his hands, powerful blasts that if timed right, could kill you instantly. He watched the lookouts move in sync with each other, charging the magic that welled up in his hands. They walked along the long paths, before turning at the same time. He fired, lightning bolts shooting through both of their chests. They both paused for a moment, before crashing to the ground. It was a perfect shot. He moved away from the brush that had hidden him, wiping away the pine needles and moving ahead carefully, looking for any more bandits he could have missed. The whole compound only had three external guards, one which he found half drunk near the stables, who blindly swung a dagger at him. A single shot took care of him, his jolting body dropping to the ground and twitching a few times before going limp. Normally a sight as such would make him grimace, but he had business to take care of, and he couldn't let a few casualties get in his way of finding her.
He ruffled through the drunken man's corpse, producing a key. The silver piece of metal fit perfectly into the lock, and the door swung open with ease. He stepped in, shutting it softly behind him. The sound of laughter echoed down the halls from a chamber. Marcurio readied a spell, creeping along the wall and using any furniture as a point to sneak behind. A guard came down the hall just as he slipped behind a cabinet. He watched as she passed, a heavy metal mace hanging from her belt. With her strong armor, it would take a few shots to bring her down, and that would create too much noise. His mind raced as she started to head further down the hall. Something clicked in his brain and he had an idea. The guard reached the end of her path, sighing and turning around. Marcurio slammed into her, knocking her down. Her eyes widened in surprise, but before she could speak his knife was at her throat. She swallowed, trying to suppress the fear that was clear on her face. He made a shushing motion, pushing the blade more into her neck. She nodded slowly.
"Where's the girl you're keeping here." He asked coldly, a blank look on his face. She smirked.
"Go to hell, I'm dead either way." She said, batting her eyelashes. He grimaced.
"I'll give you one more chance to think that over." He said, not wanting the most likely outcome of this. She laughed slightly.
"What, you don't have the balls to kill me?" She spat. He sighed, before slitting her throat. Shock went across her face as she realized what just happened. He stood, putting the blade away and walking down the hall as she gasped for air on the ground, before going limp.
The sound of drinking merriment got louder as he crept along, finding the source of it. Light spilled out into the hallway from a large chamber, where badly sung drinking songs and laughter echoed. He glanced around the corner, looking around the room. Six various men and woman were having a wonderful time getting completely hammered. One was laying on a table swinging his sword, others were cracking up around a table and two were singing loudly. Marcurio breathed deeply. He took out a bottle of poison, carefully coating his blade in the event he needed it. His hands sparked to life, and he stepped around the corner, whistling. The drinking and laughter stopped as soon as they saw him. There was a second of complete calm and quiet, before all hell broke loose. They all reached for their weapons, and he began shooting. Someone swung a mace at his head, causing him to lean all the way back to avoid it. He grabbed their arm, twisting it and causing them to lose their grip and shooting sparks into them. A woman ran at him from the left, using a chair to jump up and bring the sword down towards him. He rolled out of the way into the path of a man that just clipped his shoulder with the previously dropped mace. He kicked their legs out, slamming the man's head into the stone floor. The woman had regained her balance, and swung wildly at him. He dodged out of the way, grabbing his own sword and managing to slice her arm. She stumbled, looking at her arm before collapsing. Three men rushed at him from one side. He narrowed his eyes, putting his arms out a bit and spinning. A mixture of fire and lighting circled him, enveloping the rest who screamed and tried to douse the flames. He made easy work of them with the poisoned sword, until the room was quiet and peaceful.
Marcurio followed the path through the fort, when something caught his ears. A faint scream pierced the air of the cold stone walls, and a feeling of panic rose in him as he recognized the noise. Arabell. He ran down the halls, trying to locate the source of the sound. He got closer, halting to a stop. Just outside of the room the sound echoed was a guard, who grabbed his blade upon seeing the mage. He swore under his breath, dashing to the side as a dagger whipped passed him. He summoned his magic, the warrior cocking his head and drawing a second sword. Before they could clash, however, a noise that nearly broke the barrier of sound echoed through the halls, ripping the air in its path and shaking the stone walls. The warrior looked towards the room, a fatal mistake. Marcurio grabbed his sword, pushing it through his back and through his chest. The man flinched, and grabbed the blade, before sinking to his knees. He ripped the blade out, hurrying back to the room. It was locked. He cursed again, rummaging through the guard's pockets until he found the key. He shoved it into the lock, slamming the door open into the room. His eyes widened. Another mage stood with his back turn in front of his friend, a sword raised. Rage and power fueled his attack, and he shot a powerful bolt of lightning straight through his body. The man collapsed without ever knowing who struck him. Arabell was chained and bloody, her eyes opened and looked up at him, and a sense of relief filled the whole room. She was badly hurt, but she was alive, and he would take it. The sight of the strongest woman he knew so defeated had shaken him a bit, but none the less, he would get her out of that wretched place if it cost him everything.
Marcurio brought himself back to reality by tripping over a chair, dropping a bowl of apples that scattered across the floor. He sighed loudly, gathering them back up, the memory still fresh in his mind. He stood, walking them to the kitchen and dumping the apples back into the basket they came from. He walked back out to the dining room, sitting in a wooden chair and sitting in silence. It was too quiet for his taste, and being alone with nothing but his thoughts was driving him crazy. He glanced towards the steps. Arabell was most likely still asleep, but he didn't exactly know that for sure. After debating it for several minutes, he stood, making his way up the steps.
