The Rebirth Of Evil

Chapter 1

The Beginning

It was the dream again... the flash of light nearly blinded him. He squinted at the light with his left hand covering his eyes, and then suddenly he was in a ruined city. The buildings and shops destroyed and worn away by a blistering wind full of black sand that was slowly deteriorating everything it came into contact with. Looking around him, there were corpses half-covered with sand, stripped down to the bone, some covered in armor, with eroding bones stretching to the sky in brave defiance of the wind that had destroyed this once vast and grand city. The sky was a dark crimson with black clouds mixed in, giving the impression that even the heavens were tainted by the evil that had warped this beautiful place. Then suddenly, a dark flash caught his attention. As he slowly turned he could hear a voice that was right behind him, whispering dark omens of destruction that had befallen mankind, and woman screaming as they perished in horror and torment. He spun, but the sounds came from nowhere, but was always right behind him no matter how he turned. He continued to turn, increasingly faster as he tried to locate the source of the voice, when suddenly an unearthly, blood-chilling wail cut through the air like a thousand knives. He screamed in agony and fell to his knees, throwing his hands up to cover his ears as the horrible wail sapped him of all his strength, but they began to bleed anyways. The wail stopped and he tried to clear his mind, trying to discern whether he had gone deaf of not. But when he looked up and saw a dark apparition flying toward him at incredible speed, he had to move. But the residual effects of that horrible ear-piercing shriek kept him powerless to stop this thing or to evade his seemingly inevitable doom. All of a sudden the dark apparition was only inches away from his face with its huge sword drawn ready to cleave him in two...

Suddenly he sat up in his bed with a cold sweat drenching him, panting and wild-eyed from his nightmare... Damn, he thought, no sleep for the weary. It was only three years after the Worldstone had been destroyed and his sister had finally returned, but the dream kept returning every night, like a silent thief poisoning his mind. Lachlan Silverwind sighed as he slowly crawled out of bed, put on his shirt, belted on his Moonblade (A blade forged from the Temple of Zakarum, before Mephisto had invaded and twisted the city) and looked in a mirror, stopping abruptly when he passed it. His sapphire blue eyes stared back at him, while his medium-short length brown hair was still a mess from sleep. His slightly rounded jaw and average build bespoke of years of little to no physical exertion; a life of luxury, so to speak. Even though he still dreamed of becoming a great hero, he had neither the poise, nor the look, nor the build of any hero he had seen engraved as statues. He sighed as he stopped sucking in his gut and quit pretending for today. He exited his room and went for an early morning walk through the hallways of the Monastery of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye.

He went outside and took a deep breath of crisp, fresh air and shook his head to try and clear his mind of fast-fading images. Images of nightmares that had so abruptly awoken him once again. What is that dream? Locke contemplated, what is that place, that thing? He looked around at the still sleeping camp of rogues and decided it was unimportant at the moment. Still got a couple of hours till daylight, Locke thought sadly, Might as well get started then. Locke went back inside, passing a few other just awakening novices as he went, to grab his equipment and take it into the rogue's training room. He set down his training gear, which consisted of two steel bracers, along with two steel anklets, and a studded leather tunic.

The room only had one other occupant in it, his sister Marianna Silverwind, who was his only living family, dressed in similar training garb as his. He studied her as he donned his training gear. Her long black hair flying as she rolled and quickly slashed sideways with her battle-worn longsword cleaving through a test dummy with ease, a grim smirk on her face as she noticed her little brother gaping at her. Her green eyes flashed as she gracefully reversed her stance and swung her longsword, cutting through the air with a high-pitched whistle, decapitating a training dummy and severing another dummy's torso from its' stand. The screech from her blade reminded him of his nightmare, which made him stop and shudder from a cold chill that ran up his spine.

The cold air nipped at his flesh, and his bare feet on the cold floor made him begin his daily routine before he froze. He began his routine with his normal warm-up and gradually progressed from that to the actual routine. About halfway through his routine though, he was abruptly stopped as a longsword flew just inches from his head, close enough in fact to cut a small bit of hair off his head. He gazed in anger and amazement at his sister, who just chuckled at him.

"You still need a haircut, little one," she smiled.

"My hair looks just fine thank you, and please don't try to kill me again... we don't want a repeat of that time you tried to use me for archery practice."

Marianna laughed so hard as the memory flooded back that she doubled over, one hand to stop her from crashing to the floor, the other over her stomach, laughing hysterically. Locke grimaced as he remembered that day, and put his hand over his right shoulder where he still carried a scar. Marianna recovered enough to give her little brother a big smile, wrench her longsword from the wall where it had pinned a dummy's head, and resume with her routine. He continued through his morning training routine, moving quickly, yet fluidly from one battle stance to the next, practicing lunges and parries against imaginary foes. It was the same routine that his sister had ground into his skull day after day as children after their parents died, yet strangely they still didn't know how they had perished. Only after the sun was just creeping into the sky did Locke finally retire to his room to put his gear away, and to bathe before he had to leave for Lut Gholien.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later Locke was on the road traveling with a large caravan East hired as a caravan guard by Warriv, an old friend whom Locke had known for years growing up. Locke had never been able to go with him, although he constantly made trips through the Barrier Mountains east to Lut Gholien and back west to The Monastery, on account of being too young to do any good. This time his sister had convinced Warriv to let him go, and he was happy really, but didn't want to seem like a giddy little kid. He was passing the time by chatting with a couple of caravan guards that he had grown to know in the years before at the Monastery, many of whom he had befriended. Some of them were coming along for the first time also, but not many, most were going for their third or fifth trip with Warriv. Yet Locke didn't care much, as he idly watched the unchanging and utterly boring terrain which consisted of little more than huge piles of rock, sand, and an occasional plant. He was still ecstatic about coming, even a little nervous, not knowing what to expect on his first expedition away from the Monastery. His heart jumped in his chest when the alarm was raised. A large group of bandits were assaulting the caravan in overwhelming numbers and they had to be slain before anything was stolen.

Locke quickly drew his Moonblade and urged his steed forward. Looking around he spotted a couple of caravan mercenaries being overwhelmed by bandits. He urged his steed forward to try and aide them, but a bandit's blade bit deep into a guard's neck and he fell off his horse, already dead. Locke's anger overtook him as he saw the guard cry out in agony and die, with the bandit's contemptuous smirk at seeing this. Anger flashed in his eyes as Locke slashed the first bandit across the back of the neck, easily beheading him, and startling the three remaining bandits. He quickly jerked his steed right, turned his blade so that it was facing down the length of his arm, and impaled another through his chest. He wrenched his blade from the bandit as his victim slumped forward, eyes rolled up into his head, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. The bandits recovered from the shock that had seized them and charged Locke with their steeds, swords drawn, yelling madly the whole way.

Or that's what they had planned to do anyways, when suddenly a fireball flew from behind Locke and slammed square into the caravan guard's chest. Shit, Locke thought as the caravan guard fell off his horse, screaming in agony as his flesh boiled from his bones. The blast knocked one bandit off his horse, charring his left arm rendering it useless, killeing the caravan guard's horse and setting the wagon behind it on fire. The remaining raider turned his attention to the spellcaster wide-eyed with anger at nearly becoming part of the barbeque. This gave Locke just enough time to recite the words of a spell, focus his attention at the him, and blast the bandit from his saddle with a glacial spike that impaled the bandit and pinned him to the side of the wagon.

Locke turned his head trying to locate the sorcerer but was immediately occupied by the first unhorsed bandit. He had recovered from the blast and was charging him with his right arm wielding his scimitar. Locke swung his sword viciously at the bandit's head, but missed as the bandit ducked under the blow and rolled under his horse. He hopped to his feet on the other side of Locke's steed but immediately had a hand encompassing his skull.

Locke began yelling an incantation, with the fire of anger in his eyes, as he stared at the bandit with a slight smirk on his face. The bandit yelled and swung his scimitar at his arm, hoping to lop it off, but was suprised at Locke's agility as he brought his sword around and blocked the incoming blow. As Locke finished the spell, his hand immediately burst into bright blue flames. The bandit's eyes immediately boiled and burst, the spell also singed the flesh off of his skull where Locke had placed his hand. The bandit screamed in agony until Locke removed his hand and the bandit collapsed to the sand. Thankfully he was dead before he was trampled by Locke's steed, frantically trying to heed it's masters command to leap over the corpse toward the novice mage that had tried to fry Locke earlier.

Locke charged the mage while his steed bowled over several other bandits in the process, but suddenly got smacked off of his horse by the pole of a halberd that was swung into his path. He flew from his horse and landed on his back, hard. A grisly man with a huge bleeding gash over his right eye raised his battleaxe over his head, preparing to split Locke's head like a melon. The bandit suddenly jerked and began coughing up blood, he jerked again and went down. Luckily Locke dove out of the way before he was crushed by the huge man's girth. He saw the man had been feathered with two silver-shafted arrows with blue feathers. Locke managed a half-hearted smile as he glanced up at Marianna, atop her horse with her bow, releasing another one of her arrows into the face of a scrawny bandit with a rapier. He fell, clawing at the arrow protruding from his left eye, his mouth open, yet it emitted no sound.

He quickly rolled to the right, and turned to face the person behind him. The mage turned, startled with her eyes wide with terror quickly backing away from him. She was actually quite beautiful with her olive skin, long black hair, big brown eyes, and beautifully shaped face. The dress she was wearing had a divided skirt, so it could be worn riding, was white, or should have been, it was more of a brownish color with red trim. He also noticed a silver coronet perched on her head, and it was set with a flawless amethyst and had strange runes written on either side of the gem. Damn, he thought as he raised his sword to slay her but he was suddenly bowled over by a burly man wearing chainmail that had an arrow sticking out of the base of his skull.

Locke was trapped under the man's girth for a couple of minutes, the sounds of battle still raging above and around him. He summoned all his strength, invoked a quick spell, and violently kicked the man into the air roughly ten feet. He quickly rolled to the left as the man crashed into the sand, shoving the arrow straight out through where his nose should have been, the arrow was decorated with stringy chunks of brain strung to the shaft. He quickly got to his feet to find the bandits retreating. He glanced around and identified the fallen corpse of the mage he had spotted earlier. What a waste, Locke thought sadly as he rolled the mage's body over. He noticed a considerably large lump on the left side of her head, but other than that she appeared to be alive. He quickly checked for a pulse, hopeful yet fearful, but when he found one he let out a pent up breath he did not realize he had been holding. He made sure she was breathing, then quickly picked her up and began carrying her toward the caravan with the remaining survivors and those taken captive.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marija cried out in pain as a jolt awakened her from her slumber. Aww Hell, she thought as she clutched her bruised head and steadied herself. She opened her eyes and was startled as she saw a person hunched over in a corner next to her. She sat up quickly and gasped as she realized where she was. Her head suddenly became swimmy and she began to fall toward the floor. The last thing she remembered was being caught by strong arms, and a pair of beautiful blue eyes...

She sat up quickly, still startled from her last awakening episode. Where the hell am I, she thought as she glanced around. She quickly concluded that her surroundings were different, changing from the back of a wagon to a small room. A new robe was set next to her bed, white with green trim, her staff on the far wall near the door. She sat up and realized that she was naked and quickly covered herself again, nervously glancing around the room to see if anyone was there. She saw a dark figure slumped over in a chair in the corner of the room apparently sleeping, and sighed gratefully. She cautiously got out of bed and screamed as the dark figure quickly glanced up and saw her in nothing.

The man quickly glanced away and blushed as the sorceress screamed as she got out of bed and noticed him observing her. "Calm down sorceress, there is no need to scream, it's the middle of the night and mercenaries awakened at this hour are likely to slit your throat," he quickly stated. The sorceress blankly stared at this, mouth gaped open, but quickly grabbed her clothes, jumped back onto her bed, and covered up with her thin sheet.

"Who the hell are you?" Marija loudly whispered, still startled from the stranger seeing her completely nude.

The dark figure simply said, "I am the reason you still draw breath." At this she closed her gaping jaw, blushed, and turned away from him. "My name is Lachlan Silverwind, but you may call me Locke if you wish."

"Thank you," she said quietly, with a hint of awe in her voice, "I appreciate it... but why?"

Locke simply stared at her provocative form beneath the thin sheet that covered her, or most of her. The sheet fell in such a way as to completely mold to the contours of her voluptuous body, making him feel slightly embarrassed. He shook his head to try and concentrate on something else.

"What's the matter," Marija asked, "Carver got your tongue?" She said playfully.

"I, uh... it... it's just that you scared me when your screamed, I didn't mean to startle you," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Suddenly a knock came at the door, making both of them jump. As a man entered the room he peeked around the door and noticed Marija,

"Ah, it is good to know that you have survived, I thought I heard something" he said happily. Marija just smiled at him,

"Thank you for your concern... uh…"

"Warriv, my darling, call me Warriv," he chuckled.

She smiled in response, "You may call me Marija, Warriv. It is nice to meet you."

"Ah, but the pleasure is all mine, dear." At that moment she noticed that she had a problem, "Now, if you both don't mind..."

"Oh, sorry for the intrusion, we will both be on our way, won't we?" Warriv smiled warmly then suddenly slapped Locke on the back of the head, "Today, Lachlan."

He jolted out of his daze, "I heard you the first time," Locke said angrily then turned to Marija with a smile, "It was nice meeting you Marija, I will be back to check on you later."

As Locke got up to leave he turned to Marija and winked knowingly. Marija smiled as she turned away as she felt her face begin to grow warm, "Locke," she called out hopefully.

He quickly put his head back into the room and raised his eyebrow, "Yes?"

"I will seek you out later if you do not return soon enough for me," she turned away in dismissal as she blushed again and began to gather her clothes up as Locke closed the door and hurried to catch up to Warriv.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a 4 days that Locke had been in that room spending every waking moment in hopes that Marija would awake and be fine. Warriv, during this period of time, had gone to the palace mages with the coronet that had been confiscated from the beautiful, yet still unconcious mage. Locke had hopes of Warriv returning with good news, yet was sad that he couldn't go along with him. Locke even had his food delivered to the room, in fear of her awakening and him not being present.

"So, the Warders determined her to have been under some kind of mind control, is this true?" Locke asked.

Warriv shook his head sadly, "Yes Locke, they shattered the coronet she had on, they said that's what someone was using to control her."

Locke sighed gratefully, "Good, because it would be a waste if she truly was beyond help."

They continued on down the corridor, chatting about the strange individual who had been entrusted into Locke's care. They passed a servant bearing a large plate laden full of food with a wine pitcher and goblet.

"Did the Warders mention something about any runes when they examined it?"

Warriv looked up, "Yes they did... how did... how did you know about the runes?"

Locke shook his head in confusion and looked at Warriv skeptically, "I noticed them when I saw her during the battle, why do you ask?" Warriv eye's widened greatly at this. "The runes were supposed to be invisible to anyone unschooled in the art of Detection Magic..." he trailed off as he abruptly stopped and stared at Locke.

"I have never studied any Detection Magic Warriv, you know that... my sister taught me most of the spells that I know," Locke said defensively. Warriv suddenly shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Your right, I know that... it's just... weird," he trailed off as he began walking toward the mess hall, idly chatting as they wandered on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marija wandered the mazelike corridors for what seemed like forever before she found a servant carrying a basket full of freshly baked bread.

"Do you know where someone by the name of Lachlan is?" She quickly asked. The servant looked at her and shook his head. "Ok... umm... oh, do you know anyone named Warriv?" she asked hopefully, chewing her bottom lip.

The servant mutely nodded and began walking away from her the way she had just came. I guess I get to follow him, she thought smiling, yet slightly baffled.

He quickly turned a corner and opened a door, looking at her to enter, "Thank you sir," she said as she passed through the door.

The servant pointed directly across the hall at a table. The mess hall was predominantly empty, except for three people sitting the corner opposite the door, and a couple of burly men scattered throughout the room, consuming their beers quietly. A couple of them looked up at her entrance and smiled with grins missing more teeth than were actually left. She attempted to navigate through the completely random table arrangement without going near anyone. She slowly worked her way to the other end of the mess hall, and as she approached she smiled as she recognized the one leaning back in his chair against the wall. Yet snippets of dialog floated over to her. She stopped a short distance behind the table as she eavesdropped on their quiet conversation.

"The coronet that she was wearing had angelic runes inscribed into it," the strange old man that had his back to her said, and had yet to notice her. "That is what troubles me, Locke, that you could see them without the aid of a specific magical incantation that your friend here has assured me that you don't know, along with your own assurances of course."

"I know that, but I'm telling you I saw them as clearly as I see the wrinkles in your face, old man," Locke said wearily, as though they had been over the point more than once. At this the old man laughed, and it spread to both of his compatriots, along with Marija. She suppressed a giggle but the old man looked behind him, "Ah, so I see that, although Locke's description was awe-inspiring, it did you no justice."

Marija blushed a deep red at hearing this, and turned away embarassed.

"Come, sit... oh forgive me, my memory does leave me occasionally..." he said with a quick smile. "Marija," Locke quickly interjected cutting her off. As she turned to sit, she glanced at Locke who just smiled at her.

"My name is Deckard Cain. It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Marija," he said as she seated herself.

"Thank you, the pleasure is all mine," she said as he smiled affectionately at her. They gradually began talking about where she had come from, who she was, and primarily what had transpired for her to be in the predicament that she was rescued from not a week before.

"I don't really remember," she said in sad reflection as memories of her childhood came flooding back to her. "I would like to come with you, Locke... you know, to find my home," Marija said with such a tone that brooked no argument.

"Well, I believe that would be up to Locke to decide, my dear."

After much deliberation over dinner, and a few more beers than advisable, it was decided that she would allowed to go with Locke to try and find her home. "I appreciate this opportunity to travel with you," she said smiling. She looked over at Locke and winked at him with a knowing look in her eye, then burst out laughing.

"We don't know when we will leave, as you know, but when we do I personally will come get you if you aren't around," Locke said with a slight smile twisting the corners of his mouth, for he knew she would be.

"I will be out for a bit, I must buy some supplies and find my sister," Locke half slurred. He stood up, after falling against a wall and laughing with his companions, straightened his leather vest, dusted himself off, and walked out of the mercenary's quarters and out onto the early morning streets of Lut Gholien.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading my story, hopefully I will have another chapter up soon. Hope you enjoyed it... please read and review.

I would also like to make a special thank you to my personal Proofreading Paper clip, thanks man.