Hey guys! Here comes the long-awaited sequel to Time Blood. I present you "The Jester's Blood". The title isn't very significant, but the reason for "Jester" was because the first time I laid my eyes on Baal, I instantly thought "Court Jester". The guy doesn't look very threatening. And being The Lord of Destruction, he should look more…er…destructing! I wished they had kept Mephisto around instead of Mr. Baal – he looked a lot cooler.
And if any of you wonder why I'm suddenly not updating or anything, you can peak into a bit of my life at ?user=lightnexon" my online journal and it's updated a few times a week. Or, go ahead and read "Gilead's Blight", a story I'm co-writing with a friend. You can find the story here: ?storyid=1648702"
So I present to you, the sequel. Enjoy J And thanks for the reviews, people! I love all of you – I really do!
And last thing – the sequel will continue to be placed along with the original Timeblood fanfiction.
The Jester's Blood: Prologue and Betrayers
The Towers within the Forests of Scosglen were gargantuan stone towers covered with the thickest of vines and ivies, so that any passerby that were not familiar with the way of the Druids would sometimes mistake them for ancient trunks of trees. But on close inspection, one would find that they were towers – towers where the Druids of the North studied their ancient magic of working in harmony with nature, where they worshipped the Gods of the old…and where they transformed into terrifying beasts at will.
A Druid emerged from the forests and he slowly walked from the thicket of oak and stone towers to emerge on a cliff overlooking the seas of the North, where the water was extremely cold, unlike that of Lut Gholein. He walked to the Cairn of Stones overlooking the waters and laid his head against the cool surface.
His hair was the color of blood, and wounded together in a braided knot that fell down his back in a thick strand that reached the back of his knees. His eyes were that of the ivy leaves in the forest, and dark eyebrows drew close together in anger above them. Although he looked no older than that of twenty-six, his eyes held the secrets of the ancient ways of his people that gave his whole face a rather aged, yet noble look of his race of warrior-poet kings.
Dire threw his head back and roared, then slammed his fist into the side of the Stone. He drew his fist back, his chest heaving angrily as blood trickled down his knuckles. The knot work on the stone mysteriously absorbed his blood, taking in the organic energy inside.
Baal lives.
Baal still lives because of the Five.
"Don't hurt yourself this way, Dire."
He angrily spun around and saw Deirdre, his grandmother and High Priestess of the Druid, and a patron to the goddess Epona. He looked away as the white-haired woman stepped close to him and took his hand.
"It is not his fault."
"Baal lives," Dire said, feeling the healing energy Deirdre drew from the forest slowly filling his hand. "Baal still lives."
"It is nobody's fault, and you shouldn't blame anyone," Deirdre released his hand and Dire saw that the broken bones and flesh were healed.
"And what do you expect me to do?" Dire said bitterly.
"It is time," Deirdre said. "For you to leave these forests and travel to Harrogath. It is the time of Uileloscadh Mór – the final battle between the forces of the Burning Hell, and of man."
"Travel to Harrogath? The land of the Barbarians? The land that should have rightfully been ours but is now controlled by heathens and savages?" Dire hissed. "We have vowed never to set foot in the Steppes of Mount Arreat – "
"Until the time of Uileloscadh Mór, Dire!" Deirdre took her grandson's hand and he roughly pulled away. "And is time!"
"It is not my duty. Tell some other Chieftain to do this."
"You turn away from this task that was given to you because you do not want to go back to him," Deirdre said. "You were chosen, and you shall go."
Dire didn't realize he had sunk his teeth into his lips until he felt warm liquid seep from the thin skin to flow freely down his neck and across the tattoo of knots that started from his neck and covered half of his torso, where it was hidden underneath the thick leather jerkin and fur cloak that he wore. "I do not wish to see the Betrayer again."
"It is your duty as head of our tribe, to travel to Harrogath, and it is time to put aside our differences, and unite together as one to fight this final battle,' Deirdre said.
Dire shut his eyes. "Tell me what to do."
"You must travel to the Tamoe Highlands, to the Sisters of the Sightless Eye. Go and see the Rogues," Deirdre straightened up, her voice taking full authority of that of a High Priestess. "Then alert the Necromancer – alert the Necromancer, that Baal still lives."
Jester's Blood 1: BetrayersMoran opened her eyes and watched as the gossamer curtains hanging from the canopy bed slowly move, as if they were the wings of some large, mystical insect. She shut her eyes against the glare of the early sun and twisted away from the light.
She held up her arm and looked at the long, pale scar running from her wrist to her elbow. Just last evening, the scar was a fresh, crimson wound, an abrasion made by running the side of her arm along the blade of a sword and holding the cut over a golden chalice so that her blood could mingle with Kail's.
She turned to the Necromancer lying at her side and eyed the identical white scar on his arm. The blood ritual they had performed was a symbolism of sacrifice – that for as long as she lived, she would be willing to give up her life for him and he for hers. They had held the cuts on their arms together and let the blood form into a bright red carbuncle, which she wore as a roughly cut gem hanging by a leather cord on her neck.
Slowly, she slid her legs over the bed and pushed the curtains away. Walking softly as not to awake Kail, she made her way to the window and looked outside. The sun was still at its early stages of lightning up the world, and it gave off a silvery glow. She leaned on her elbows as she surveyed the thicket of trees where the tops of the Rogues' monastery could be seen peeking out from the thick leaves.
She felt Kail's arms circle around her middle and pulled her close to his chest. "You shouldn't stand so close to the window naked. Someone might see."
She didn't bother to turn around. "This early in the morning? And in the middle of the woods? This is a ranger's cabin, Kail."
He didn't answer her, but instead bit her hard on the shoulder. She gasped and whirled around, shoving him away from her. "That hurt!" She said, rubbing her shoulder and winced as she felt the teeth marks. "Kail!"
He smirked at her and dropped down on his back in the bed, pulling his bare arms underneath his head, green eyes locked on the wooden ceiling. Moran shook her head and opened the large trunk next to the canopy bed, pulling out a leather skirt and a cream colored shirt. "So, where to next?"
Kail rolled on his front and pulled a pillow underneath his chin. "What do you mean?"
"The rogues aren't going to let us stay here forever. They're just lending it to us," Moran pulled on the skirt and shirt and picked up a brush from the dresser. She tossed it at Kail. "Brush your hair."
"Why?" Kail asked, catching the brush in midair.
"You were in such a hurry to leave last night that you forgotten to tell the rogues thanks for everything they did for us," she said, jerking on her shirt. "You better go now before they get caught up in sanctifying the Monastery – you'll never catch one of them available for talking if they do."
Kail groaned and reluctantly sat up, taking the pair of black pants she offered him. "Why can't you go?" He asked, pulling on the pants and standing up to tie the laces.
Moran was about to answer him when she noticed the scars on his body. She held the same scars, a reminder of the past horrors both of them fought against.
But it was over. The Three Prime Evils were gone.
"Moran?"
"Because you're leader," she said, roughly tying a cord around his white hair. "It wouldn't be right for me to tell them, and besides, I already thanked them last night. You have to do it to."
They went the spiraling wooden staircase and passed the rather quaint kitchen with the only door that led outside. Moran took in a deep breath of the morning air and lifted her face up to catch the few quiet rays of sunlight that managed to stream through the thick trees.
"When I come back, there better be something to eat," Kail grumbled as he pulled on his boots. "I think the Rogues left something for us in the kitchen – "
"Just go," she pushed him towards the empty trail that would lead him to the Monastery. "But don't take your time."
He grinned at her and disappeared into the shadows. She sat down on the steps leading down from the door to the forest floor and leaned against the railing, quietly taking in the silence and the light of the forest.
A twig snapped after a few minutes and her eyes flew open. She leapt up on her feet and her eyes searched frantically for whatever made the noise. She took two steps up the stairs and reached for the spear that the Rogues had forgotten to remove from the cabin. Her hands circle around the crude weapon that was lying next to the frame of the door.
A large wolf, larger than she had ever seen emerged from the trail and stood stock still about ten meters from the cabin. Puzzled, Moran cautiously left her place at the door and approached it.
She stopped walking, halting at the last step of the stairs when a large figure walked from the trail and stood next to the wolf. He was shrouded in a heavy gray fur cloak with the hood pulled up so she could not make out his face, much less who he was. He held an ornate compound bow in a gloved hand and a quiver of arrows hung from his back. The hilt of a jeweled bastard sword jutted out from his back, held by a large bandolier.
"What do you want?" She asked, placing the blunt end of the spear down on the ground. "I am no Rogue, and if you have business with them, then go to the Monastery."
The man didn't answer her, but unhooked the bandolier from his back and laid the weapon on the ground. He took off his quiver of arrows and rested it next to the sword, and finally, the bow went down to join the other weapons. It was a sign that he was not going to attack her – at least, not with his weapons.
"The Rogues said I would find the Necromancer here," the man said, his voice quiet. "That I would find him with the Sorceress."
"What do you want with him?" Moran asked. "What business do you have?"
The man strode up to her, and she quickly took a step back, swinging the spear into her other hand. She nearly tripped over the stair, but the man grabbed her arm, his face inches from hers. She peered into his hood, trying to make out his face. A dark cloth covered every inch of skin underneath his eyes, veiling it. But the glittering eyes that glared at her with anger from underneath the hood disturbed her – there was something very familiar.
She jerked her arm away. "Back off," she said. But he leaned closer to her, his fingers reaching for the hollow of her throat. She grabbed his wrist as he touched the bloodstone.
"A sacrificial bloodstone," the man said, holding it up so it caught the sun, sending clear red lights across their faces. "Tell me, Sorceress, would you truly die for him?"
Her hand that was gripping his wrist started shaking as she fought to push him away. "What do you want?" She hissed.
"I bring dire news," the man said, releasing the bloodstone but he stayed close to her. Before she knew it, he grabbed the spear from her other hand and hit her hard on the chest with a flat, open palm. Air shot from her lungs and her legs failed as they caught the top rung of the stairs. He pushed her against the wall, one hand around her throat, and the other pressing up against her chest so she couldn't move.
"I bring dire news indeed," he leaned close to her so that his lips were inches away from her ears. "The one you thought was dead lives."
Moran felt her heart stop. "What…are you talking about?"
Moran cried out as she felt something snaking up her legs and saw a creeping vine wrapped around her ankle. Starting to panic, she saw the same glowing vine making its way around her arms.
"I wouldn't move," the man said. "They're poisonous, you know, and they'll dig their sharp little thorns into your skin when I tell them to."
Moran shut her eyes and slowly searched the air surrounding her for energy particles. Taking in the energy, she transformed the smallest building blocks of the elements that she drew inside her to radiate cold air from the areas of her body where the vines were wrapped around.
"So you talk to plants?" She said, ignoring her racing heart as she felt the plants slowly being frozen into blocks of ice.
"Such is the way," the man said, "Of the Druids."
Moran swung her left leg and the vines holding it broke into sharp silvers of frozen crystal. Distracted by the sudden motion, the man released his hold and she pushed her way past him. She picked up the discarded spear and gritting her teeth, she faced him.
"What do you want?" She whispered.
"If I had it my way, Sorceress," the man said, angrily. "I would have both your life and the Necromancer's."
Anger and heat rushed through her, and first burst on her arms. Screaming her rage, she rammed the spear into the ground, and shot a jet flame of Inferno towards the man.
But there was something wrong. Instead of screaming in pain or running away, the man was standing still. In fact…sweat ran down her face as she struggled to hold the spell up – the man was using another spell against hers. A spell that mimicked her Inferno – but instead of being a flame of fire – his was ice!
"Typical of a Sorceress," the man said over the roar of ice and fire, sound neither breathless nor tired, as if holding back her powerful spell didn't take him much of an effort.
"What do you want?" She whispered, her energy draining. "Who are you?"
"You?"
Concentration broken, both the ice and fire spells broke as both of them turned to the speaker. Kail stood in the clearing, his hands curled into angry fists at his side and his green eyes blazing. Moran felt her pounding heart leave its place in her chest as she gazed at him. She had never seen the look of fury on his face before – not even when they were down in the bowels of Hell.
But in that look of fury, was also pain.
"You?" Kail hissed. The dire wolf at the man's side growled, every hair on its back rising.
"Yes," the man said. "It's me."
With a cry of fury, Kail ran and tackled the man with his entire body. The man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down with him. But before he even hit the ground, the man rammed his foot into Kail's stomach and sent him flying over his head. Kail rolled twice before coming up to his knee, a short dagger in his hands.
"Kail! Don't – " She cried, but it was too late. Kail wasted no time in leaping on the man again, but this time, he had him on the ground before he could be thrown.
"Stay back!" Kail shouted as she ran towards them. She saw him pull back the man's hood and the cloth wrapped around his face in an attempt to claw at his eyes. A shock of braided hair the color of blood, as thick as a horse's tail and almost longer than one fell from the hood as he failed to send his fist into Kail's face.
Then both of them froze.
Kail was holding the man by his hair, pulling his head back so that his pale throat was exposed. He had the dagger, now glowing a sickly green, under the man's chin. But the same vines that had just wrapped around her legs now had Kail by the throat.
"How fitting," the man said, looking up at Kail. "Two men separated for over a decade, only to be brought back together and killed by the same poison. Perhaps we should have your sorceress tell this tale after both of us are dead – it is quite worthy of becoming a story."
Kail didn't move.
"Let me go," the man said. "I'm not here to kill you, even though it's quite tempting."
Kail drew his dagger from the man's skin and cautiously removed his knees from the man's thighs. He stood up and sheathed his dagger, watching the man with a wary eye. The other man stood up and Moran felt her jaw drop.
"Moran," Kail said, his tone dripping with anger and sarcasm. "Meet my brother – "
"Do not taint my name by saying it, Necromancer," the man said, getting up.
"My brother," Kail said, rolling an angry eye to look at him. "Dire."
"But – " Moran said, placing a hand on her chest. "You're – you're twins!"
Her eyes bounced back rhythmically as she took in the two men standing in front of her – Kail and his brother, Dire. It was almost like she was staring at a double image, despite Dire's heavy clothing that was meant for colder areas and Kail's lighter garments. Also, Dire was a few inches taller and had a heavier build than Kail did, who had more of a lean frame. But the most striking difference between both of them was that Dire's hair was a dark red, contrasting to Kail's white and was almost four times longer. There was a tattoo on Dire's face that was absent on Kail's – a complex knot work that extended from above his left eyebrow, down his face, and traveling down his neck where it disappeared underneath the collar of the cloak.
But other than that, she was staring at twins. Both of them had the same stance of holding themselves, the same way of cautiously taking in the environment and looking for danger. Now she knew why she had found Dire's eyes disturbingly familiar – they were Kail's eyes. The same emotional, glittering eyes that resembled liquid emeralds held up against the sun.
Kail kept a wary eye on Dire as he stood next to her. "What do you want?" He hissed.
"I'm here as a messenger, on behalf of the Druids of the Scosglen Forests," Dire said, removing his cloak by jerking it across his shoulder, revealing a form-fitting leather armor that covered him from underneath his chin down to the studded leather boots. "And I did not come because I want to, brother, but because I had to, as chieftain of my tribe."
A muscle jumped in Kail's jaw. "Save that," he said. "We can reminisce old times later. What news?"
"You've betrayed us all, Heroes," Dire said, letting the cloak fall and crossing his arms across his wide chest and fixed his eyes on Kail. "And you, have played your role as Betrayer for the second time. But this time, you did not merely betrayed a tribe – you've betrayed the entire world."
"My patience doesn't last, Dire," Kail said. "What is the message?"
"Baal lives," Dire said. "And thanks to your Heroes, he's doing quite splendidly in the summit of Mt. Arreat."