The message had come at the first break of daylight. Zazime did not see who had delivered the message; the messenger had long gone. It was still early in the morning, but the marketplace sellers were already up and moving, getting their stalls set up for a day's work. Zazime walked over to sit under the shade of a huge oak tree; there was a slight breeze today, and Zazime liked the way the wind blew through his black hair. The young adventurer set his heavy backpack, which was jingling with gold coins, on the soft grass beside him, snuggled into his warm black robe, and carefully slipped the message out of its white envelope. He tossed the envelope onto the grass and unrolled the parchment; on it were words written in legible style. His eyes quickly scanned the message. The bakery stall owner was already roaring out his wares.
It's either death or glory. Meet me on the Ice Mountain ASAP. If you want your Dragon Longsword back, be prepared for a fight.
That was when Zazime realized his precious weapon was missing. The adventurer hurriedly jumped up, flinging his robe aside, and looked around. It was true; his Dragon Longsword, a gift from his former tutor Gerard himself, was gone. Zazime's mouth fell open in shock, and he glanced back at the message with hatred. Whoever sent this had taken his Longsword, and the only way to get it back was to go to Ice Mountain. Zazime grasped his backpack, and flung his robe over his shoulder, prepared to head off.
He knew this must be a trap or something; who'd take his Longsword as a bait otherwise? If it was a one-on-one duel, then he would be at the disadvantage without a weapon; his opponent obviously would have one ready. However, being an adventurer means facing off against something far stronger than you isn't considered out of the world. In fact, adventurers look forward to all sorts of perils; beating a hazardous obstacle was a great feat for them. Zazime walked into the marketplace and replenished his food supply by buying several loaves of bread; he reluctantly reached into his backpack and brought out the shiny, gleaming coins of gold. It was bad enough that bread prices had rose; he didn't even have a job! All he had left in wealth was his Longsword, armor, and Gerard's leftover money. Zazime thanked the stall owner and put the breads into his backpack slowly, wrapping them in plastic foil. He zipped his backpack shut tightly, and practically ran out of the market, heading straight for the northern gate. If he was to investigate the true nature of Falador's treachery, then he would have to reclaim his only weapon. It had to be done quickly; no, rapidly, even. The adventurer did not look back as he charged out of the poorly-guarded north entrance. The nearby guards, who were supposed to be on vigilant watch, were asleep in nearby folding chairs. So much for tight security. The sun was beginning to rise high, and Zazime was prepared for anything. He wasn't weak and vulnerable like wannabes; he was a fully-fledged fighter now. His Sword is proof of his title, so he had to get it back in order to avenge Gerard's death. Zazime strode rapidly up the stone steps towards the towering Ice Mountain.
Two large birds flew in a delta around the mountain. Up here nothing aside from tiny insects and worthless rodents lived; any major food animals were long gone. The Icefiends had been eradicated a few weeks ago by angry dwarves who were tired of the constant coldness. All the good prey lived down in the forest and out on the plains, but the birds' species memory told them that threats could and did appear from the top of the mountain, so a constant vigilance was maintained. The birds circled once more, spied someone in the distance, and hurriedly zoomed back to the summit, where they landed.
"It seems like that kid's coming," Rapter Henankez sneered slightly. He watched Zazime run along the stone path, his sharp, yellow eyes observing the adventurer thoroughly. Rapter turned and walked along the snowy summit towards another figure sitting on a large boulder, seemly at ease.
"You sure you can handle this?" Rapter prompted as he shot a brief glance at the ruby-red Dragon Longsword lying in a pile of snow. That kid must be a rich one to own such a fine weapon. Rapter's fingers jiggled with newfound desire to grab the Sword for himself. Alas, he cannot, as it was the kid's. The Serkotzul are an evil organization, but they don't resort to thieving.
"Of course," the other man snapped.
"With only one pouch?"
"Of course," the other man grunted again. "One pouch is all I need to rid this kid."
"You heard about the death of Manuel? He was dressed up as a Falador guard in order to try assassinate that kid and his tutor Gerard. However, he only managed to kill Gerard before being stabbed by the kid! As a Serkotzul member, that's a total disgrace, to die at the hands of a mere teenager!" Rapter shouted.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine, Master Rapter," the other man insisted. "Go on and inform Master Statius; I expect I'll be able to finish the kid off pretty soon. I've got his weapon right here, although I plan on holding a fair battle."
"Quite the gentleman," Rapter mused. "I'll be off, then. Final preparations must be done; Volstagh and Zaseke will have to be contacted too. The Socialists' downfall isn't very far now."
Rapter stomped past his comrade towards two large shadows. It was two black-feathered Giant Rocs, perched on the side of the mountain. They clicked their beaks and their eyes narrowed as Rapter came by, but they softened as they recognized the Serkotzul member. Rapter waved at one of the Rocs, and hurled himself onto the immense bird of prey's back with ease. The Roc spread its wings wide, preparing for takeoff.
Rapter turned his head as the Roc went airborne. The sun's rays shone brightly on Rapter's dark cloak, making him seem like some sort of bringer from the skies. Vancori stood up from the boulder, strode over, and watched Rapter. His black boots were practically white by now. "Vancori, I'll be back soon to check your progress. That kid's almost here, he's at the base of the mountain." With that, the Roc clicked its beak again, and flew off into the distance until it was nothing but a dark speck. The bird had left quite a large set of talon-prints in the deep layer of snow. One slash of those talons could easily rip out a human's internal organs.
"What a fool that Rapter is," Vancori hissed to himself. "What an insult, saying I might lose to a mere kid…" He walked over to the remaining Giant Roc, and placed a calm hand on the ferocious bird's closed beak. Normally a human would've been terrified to death when approaching such an unpredictable bird of prey at such a close distance. Vancori, however, had personally raised these birds from fledglings; in return, the Rocs held undying loyalty to the Serkotzul member.
Vancori glanced down at the mountain again, which was lightened by the bright rays of the sun. He started to unclasp his onyx-black cloak, revealing armor made out of pure dragonhide skin, even though it was still freezing. It was no matter; the Serkotzul had trained their members to be fully-adapted to any environment. "It's time to fight."
Zazime Helcome's fingers closed around another rocky outcrop roughly. His leather gloves were worn out and dirty. For several hours the mountainside had been proceeding vertically on all sides, with not one diagonal he could try to walk up. So he had precariously been climbing his way, trying to reach a large rocky outcrop that preceded the final, smooth diagonal of ice and snow. He pulled himself up, and looked ahead to realize that now he was in front of a narrow but safe ledge. Snow dribbled down from somewhere above, but Zazime ignored it. He raised himself onto it and sat down, resting his arms and taking a quick drink from a bottle he had bought earlier. Then he looked down swiftly. In the far distance he could see the huge brown ledge which he had escaped from a few hours beforehand. Tiny pinpricks of red and crimson dotted the ledge and the sky. But three larger dots appeared, just of the mountainside, and slowly growing. Zazime squinted at them, and then realized what they were. He immediately packed his bottle away, stood back up and started climbing again. Zazime sighed as he tried to throw himself up onto another ledge; he never knew Ice Mountain was this hard to climb. The sun was still shining hard; his whole body was brimming with sweat. Zazime gritted his teeth and continued on.
By some feat of nature and extraordinary bad luck Zazime was arriving at the top of the cliff in the middle of a blizzard. As his palm touched the freezing stone he almost lost his grip – but his feet found a steady hold, and he lifted himself up. With some difficulty, he released a huge burst of energy that sent him over the edge and rolling onto the snowy ground. Snow started to pile on him, but he did not move. He lay there for a second, eyes closed, body strength slowly regenerating. Then he opened his eyes. Zazime shook some snow off him, and gasped.
Three tall figures in sky-blue hooded cloaks stood around him, each carrying a long wooden pole. Zazime lifted his upper body to try and show he meant no harm. Beneath each hood a stern, pallid face glared down at him, although all he could so far see were their lined mouths. Zazime smiled sheepishly. Suddenly, the figures threw their poles into the air. Zazime watched, bewildered. Suddenly each one threw his cloak off, revealing three strong, athletic men in another set of light blue robes. Each held his hand in the air, in which the poles landed exactly. Their fingers wrapped around the poles tightly, and they started to swing them, performing strange moves that seemed somewhere between ritual and show-off. Zazime got up quickly and backed off, scampering as fast as he could with his snowy boots. His backpack hit a dying, snow-covered tree hard, preventing him from moving any further. The three figures closed in, grins widening and their poles spinning faster than ever. Zazime raised his hands, again trying to show he meant no harm, but to no avail. The figures spun their poles rapidly. The three of them curled their lips into evil sneers. Two leapt in the air, flying towards Zazime, their eyes burning with passion to kill. He raised his arms in the air to protect himself as he attempted to look away.
And then they were snatched out of the air by two huge birds. Zazime lowered his arms to see the gigantic avian predators dig their talons deep into the two fighters. The third fighter spun around just as a third bird spun into him, ramming him in the chest with it's gigantic beak. Zazime leapt aside as the bird-propelled body slammed into the tree behind him with such force that the wood splintered. The bird flared its wings, stopping itself just in front of the ruined tree. The fighter stood up, moaning in the pain of broken ribs and bones everywhere. As he raised himself the bird pounced forward, snatching the man in it's beak and carrying him away, front body flailing, legs deep inside it's mouth. The three birds rejoined their formation and flew off. Zazime watched gobsmacked. Then he saw a large tent in the midst of the falling snow; he hurried over to it. Opening the flap, the adventurer dived in, glad to be safe from the monstrous avians and the ferocious snow outside.
"Look who we have here," a voice suddenly rang out in the tent, seemly full of gloat.
Zazime looked forward and saw a man dressed in a dark cloak striding towards him from the end of the tent. He had a large S mark on the cloak, and a brown pouch was clipped to his belt. The man stopped inches from Zazime's bewildered face.
"So, Zazime Helcome, prepare to meet your doom," the man snarled. He stretched out a hand, and in it was Zazime's Dragon Longsword. The adventurer's face was full of hatred as he glared at the man.
Noticing Zazime glancing at the Sword, the man hurled the weapon to the adventurer, who quickly caught it expertly.
"My name is Vancori, and I am a member of the Serkotzul. All will be revealed in due time, but I'm afraid you won't live to see it. Those three men outside who attacked you were my henchmen; they had no orders to eliminate you, so I had my Rocs destroy them for disobeying me. I personally would like to see your power; I heard you killed Manuel Kopos, one of my Serkotzul comrades, with just a single stab. Anyway, let's begin…I only gave you back the Sword to fight."
Vancori flipped open the tent flap and headed outside. The blizzard had seemly stopped, as nothing was heard outside the tent. Zazime breathed deeply. It was certainly a weird day. First he had found his Sword to be missing, and after scaling a tough mountain, he now had to face a Serkotzul member one on one! Zazime considered making a run for it, but decided against it when he remembered Gerard and Falador. If he had to live up to his title of a warrior and find out what's really behind the economic crisis and Falador's corrupted Knights, then he would have to finish this Vancori off.
Let's see how strong a Serkotzul is, Zazime thought grimly as he grasped his Longsword tightly. He inhaled one more time, and then strode out to meet his opponent.
Vancori saw him walk out of the snow-covered tent. The sun was once again shining brightly, and the sky was clear. Zazime looked around; no other human was in sight. This would be a one-on-one fight. Concentrate, Zazime told himself repeatedly. His boots dug into the snow deeply, and his muscles tensed. His eyes focused directly on the calm looking Vancori.
Without warning, Zazime charged forward directly at his opponent. He lashed out with his Dragon Longsword, aiming for Vancori's heart, but the Serkotzul member jumped straight into the air. Zazime stopped and used all the energy in his legs to leap into the air after his opponent. He slashed again but Vancori ducked in midair and started to lose altitude. Zazime pointed his Sword downwards, and the ruby-red weapon gleamed wickedly as it pointed at Vancori's throat.
Just then, there was a gust of powerful wind, and the sound of beating wings was heard. Zazime felt the full blast of wind and collapsed onto the snow, his Sword dropping limply into the snow beside him. He forced himself to stand up again, and he saw a Giant Roc zooming by, with Vancori on its back. The Roc dived; Zazime rolled out of the way, grabbing his Sword quickly and jumping straight up to dodge the razor-sharp talons sweeping his way. As the talons scraped across the ground, Zazime could feel the extreme impact, and knew that the giant bird was powerful in strength. Zazime clutched his Sword as the Roc swerved high up into the clear sky, with Vancori sitting on its back leisurely.
"You coward!" Zazime spat angrily. "Fight me yourself!"
"Oh, I will," Vancori called down lazily. He did not seem to be insulted by the comment. In fact, he looked amused. "I'll show you my true power: the art of explosions!"
The Serkotzul member stood up to full height, and opened his brown pouch. Reaching inside, he grabbed out several small, lifelike figurines of Crimson Swift birds. He grinned evilly and hurled the Swifts down at full force.
Zazime took one look at the coming birds and laughed. "You expect me to lose to a bunch of tiny, fake birds?" he asked in a sarcastic tone. "Forget about it!"
Suddenly, the figurines expanded to full size, much to Zazime's shock. The birds continued to fly down at full speed, now that they were real Crimson Swifts! Zazime prepared to slash them down, but he noticed Vancori opening his mouth. Quickly, the adventurer dived to the side as Vancori roared, "Joukekei!"
Zazime watched, bewildered and stunned, as the Crimson Swifts stopped momentarily and exploded at full force. The explosion almost knocked Zazime off the face of the immense mountain, but he managed to stab his Longsword into the ground and hold on to it tightly. As the smoke cleared, Vancori grinned down at the shocked adventurer.
"You see the power of my art now, heh?" Vancori jeered. "My birds can explode freely whenever I roar out the command word Joukekei. You managed to dodge; I admire your nimbleness. However, let's see you dodge this one!"
Vancori reached into his pouch again and brought out two tiny figurines of brown Copper Longtails. He opened his palm and the figurines dropped out, only to expand instantly into full-sized Copper Longtail birds. The birds began to flap their wings at rapid speed, and they blazed down at separate angles towards Zazime, who gripped his Longsword out of the ground and prepared to defend himself. The birds neared Zazime, and he barely had enough time to raise his Sword when Vancori opened his mouth.
"Damn!" Zazime groaned as he watched the birds propel towards him. It was too late to run.
"Say goodbye---JOUKEKEI!"
Bang! The impact of the explosion sent Zazime rocketing over the edge of the mountain. He tried to stab his Sword into the mountainside in order to gain leverage, but the explosion was too rapid and he was being sent flying too fast. He fell down, down, and down…
Vancori sat on his Giant Roc, admiring his work. He had finished the kid off. With that, the Serkotzul member ordered his Roc to fly to Falador instantly…
At the Wizards Tower, Lance Jaszas was just leaving. He bid farewell to Rosheil and Kondaz, and walked along the sturdy bridge towards Falador. The Slayer couldn't wait to rendezvous with his companions again. At the same time though, he couldn't help anticipate what would happen next. Surely something big would happen…