The Messenger: Vendetta Wars

By M.E. Jones

Vherit longs to be accepted after his mother is killed and he is forced to flee his home and fend for himself at a young age. He finds himself stealing from local merchants in the famed city of Agrius, that is until his moral senses tell him to help an old lady in need.

Vherit finds himself at the mercy of Rasaeh Bladeseer who steers him into the life of delivering messages...messages of death. Although he has found a new and better life off of the streets that hate him and into the hands of an organization that takes care of him, Rasaeh has a different plan in mind...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462823697

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Rain drilled down on the helmets of the thousands of Elves, Dwarves and Men, turning the ground into a muddy slop. Blackened clouds obstructed the morning sun and rolled slowly over the sky.

Prince Sorrowin! The scouts have spotted the orcs in the distance. They were about an hour away when they saw them. I suspect them to be a half hour away now. said a young runner, new to war.

Alright then, sound the trumpets. replied Sorrowin. This was not his first battle but it was his first time acting as Commander. He stepped out of the heavy tent and looked down at the plain below him. The brassy sound of trumpets blasted through the air and repeated several times, relaying the war call. Slowly men formed up in huge square formations with the archers at the back. Colored banners poked through the masses. Sorrowin scanned his men until he spotted his own personal squadron by a gold star on a solid green field. Cautiously he made his way down the slippery hillside and went to stand at the front of the block.

He swept his eyes over his men and searched for any imperfections in their uniform. He smirked, satisfied that his battle hardened men were as ready as they would ever be.

This is it men! Sorrowin called out then paused as silence was created by the sound of their leader’s voice. We stand here this morning awaiting the blackened tides of the orc horde! We will be more than just a thorn in their side, we will be the Divine plague, cleansing their presence of our land. You are my men, my Elves, and I want them to know who we are. I expect every one of you here before me to claim at least fifty orc lives. Any man that comes to me without blood on his blade bother not coming home. You are here today in my command because you are the elite! I don’t expect to be let down. There was a thundering roar from the block of Elves. "Each of you have killed before, their numbers will be great, but our skill and our discipline will be greater. We will overcome them because you, the elite, know what its like to fight. What its like to kill. What its like to feel pain and loss and you will not let that happen today.

The orcs will show you savagery, strength, determination, brutality. I say to you; show them no mercy! Give them savagery in return! Sorrowin unsheathed his sword and held it high above his head. Another roar of battle cries emerged and the trumpets sounded once more.

Here they come men! Give them all you’ve got! Sorrowin turned to watch the orcs spill down from the opposing treeline onto the plain.

Loud cracks of lightening snapped from the human lines and broke the tide in several places. Trumpets sounded again and arrows whistled through the air and dropped the front lines of the orcs, causing followers to trip and stumble down the hill. Sorrowin smiled to himself.

Come on men! Sorrowin called over his shoulder, Lets be the first to meet them. There was a cheer from the block behind him before they all surged forward after Sorrowin. The result was like an ax chopping through firewood. Soon after the Dwarves and Humans followed suit.

Sorrowin gripped his long, slightly curved sword in both hands and immediately severed the arm of a charging orc, showering his blonde hair and pale skin in blood. Using the momentum he spun around and cut halfway through a torso, lodging his blade. A hammer swung at his face and narrowly missed as he leaned backwards, using his sword for balance and pulled a dagger from his waist. The hammer came again at him but this time he turned his body and his sword’s fleshy sheath was smashed off in another bloody mess. As the orc worked to recover, Sorrowin buried his dagger hilt deep in the unprotected underarm of the orc.

Already Sorrowin could feel sweat dripping down his forehead. Or was that blood?

Another orc charged at him with a vicious ax held high. Sorrowin got low into a defensive stance prepared to meet the orc berserker. Within five paces the brute slipped in bloody mud and came crashing into the elf leader’s legs, causing both to sprawl into the mud. Blinded by the slop he found himself weaponless and crawling under fighting feet until he was taken down with both arms pinned beneath the knees of the charging orc. The beast growled, baring its horrifyingly long fangs and dripping saliva down onto Sorrowin’s face. Sorrowin closed his eyes and turned his head when suddenly he felt the splash of warm blood over his face. Slowly opening his eyes he seen a sword point protruding from the orc’s eye and blood running onto him. The lifeless corpse was kicked off of him and his most seasoned officer helped him up.

Your sword Commander.

Thank you, I almost became breakfast.

The officer said, Not on my watch.

Sorrowin returned the smile and looked around him. They stood in a place that rarely happens in battle, a knot where no one fought.

Well, catch your breath and have at it.

Aye Commander, the officer touched his fist to his breast and Sorrowin repeated the gesture, then took off to find another duel where a soldier was being overpowered by two to one.

Sorrowin brought his Elven blade down in a sweeping motion, severing the feet from the first orc and finishing it off with a quick cut across the neck. The remaining orc was taken down quickly by the elite soldier, now swelling with confidence and pride at proving himself to his superior.

The gold star banner moved and shifted through the tide until it merged with a human squadron. A loud cracked of lightening startled Sorrowin and when he looked down his bloodied blade danced with white arcs of electricity. He twisted and spun, lunged and parried, his way back and forth through the orc battalion, his sword singing with the sonnet of death.

Suddenly he found himself alone and surrounded. The lightening that once sheathed his sword was now reduced to a couple sparks and his muscles exhausted. An orc leaped at him with a club. Sorrowin side stepped and hacked halfway through its neck, too tired to complete the decapitation. He turned to find another orc rushing at him, short sword in hand, quickly ducking he rammed the orc with his shoulder. The moment the orc was thrown back there was already another pouncing on him, it was too much. He didn’t know how much more punishment his aching body could take but he knew it wouldn’t be much more. The pouncing orc leaped high and Sorrowin extended his blade, driving the point clean through to the other side of the beast. The orc crumpled to the ground and took his sword with it.

Panicking, Sorrowin started to back up while orcs closed in around him. Everything heated quickly and a fiery blast radiated from him, immolating his attackers. Dumbfounded and bewildered he looked around for the source of the magic and not ten paces away stood Adrianon of Navarone. The young wizard looked much less intimidating than the stories led Sorrowin to believe. He could tell that this was the rumored wizard by his old wood staff crowned with an emerald stone. Wines crept up the wooden staff and held the emerald amplifier in its grasp. A wizard’s staff was his most prized possession and Adrianon’s was legendary, said to be one of the most powerful in Vermaia.

Sorrowin retreated back into his ally’s lines to rest his battered body a bit before battle. As he moved into safer ranks he felt the air shift around him and a wave a pressure push past. Everything sounded as though he were completely submerged in water. In what seemed like slow motion, Sorrowin turned to watch Adrianon make a rookie mistake, parry with his staff. An orc blade hit the glowing green amplifier and green-white light beamed from the cracks. Sorrowin could feel his eyes burn as though looking into the sun. The feeling grew stronger and stronger until everything went white. He could feel his body lift and fly through the air before hitting the ground on his back, knocking the air from his lungs.

He awoke some time later among a sea of corpses. He was as blind as a bat but could hear the crows scavenging. He was thought dead and no one had come to gather his body. A fire burned in his chest, he needed vengeance. He changed his name to Rhyah and gathered those who became maimed from the blast. The misshapen Elves he now called the Uniaqua. In his mind the Human’s were traitors and deserters. They left him for dead and scared him for life. He was blind but would make them see he would not take this without a fight.

I

The streets were dimly lit by small oil lamps spaced evenly apart along the side of the road. Long grim shadows lay sprawled across the gravel and dirt. It was nearly two hours past midnight and the taverns and pubs started to slowly dry up. Drunks stumbled carelessly into the streets. Most of the people were in their homes sleeping when the town fell quiet, but at the same time, all the Nine broke loose in the bars. Tavern owners grew wealthy in these parts along with the provisioners who offered timber, metal, flour, grain, and other raw materials that the large trading companies bought up in a instant. In the morning the town’s guards would make their patrols up and down every street and clean the drunks off the road as if they were some sort of filth. Suddenly Vherit’s train of thought was brought to a screeching halt when the sound of shattering glass rang through the early morning air.

A slim athletic looking man laid limp on the hard earth while a tall tattooed man with a thick black beard leaped through the windowless void. The burly fellow stood a little off balance; probably from drinking so much ale and wine. The smaller man had said something that offended the larger one which started a fight. Drunken brawls happened at a frequent rate in the poorer parts of the city. Up in the higher class end of town taverns closed up a few hours early to prevent people from getting so piss drunk that they would fight each other over the smallest thing. In the back of Vherit’s mind he thought that he should have gone to help the skinny man in his little duel, he would surely lose without some sort of help. The thought was quickly discarded once he realized that if he intervened then other people might do the same to keep the fight even and if that were the case people might make the unwise decision to take out their weapons. No, best to let it be.

Vherit was a fine man of his early twenties with blunt features and yellow-brown eyes. He was in decent shape other than being a little underweight, but that is what happened to a man who didn’t have any home to retire to at the end of the day. Vherit had only a couple of copper pieces left in his woolen purse that hung off of his belt beside the fine steel long dagger he had recently purchased. He also carried a few throwing knives and another shorter dagger. This one wasn’t as pretty as the long dagger on his other hip, its edge was chipped and there were one or two spots of rust that showed its aging. Almost everyone in the city of Agrius wore steel, less than a quarter of which knew what they were doing with it.

Vherit’s black cloak sheltered him from the elements and his large hood hid his face from the light as he passed the fight on the street. He stayed up late and stole money or goods from larger trading companies while they were asleep in their fine feather beds in the higher end of town. Other than being a fine swordsman, he was also a master thief. When he was younger he had saved up almost two silver pieces in order to buy a lock for a door from one of the stalls that lined the streets when the foreigners came to sell their wares in town. He practiced picking that lock until he could practically do it with his eyes shut. He could have easily done it with a simple unlocking spell but most of the larger establishments were guarded by wards that repelled any magical attempts since magic was so commonly used by Humans. Everyone knew some spell or another so the wealthy sealed their homes and businesses with very strong magical wards. Vherit only stole from these places because the owners or store clerks would never notice a couple of copper or silver gone missing where as a smaller company may call out an alert about a thief. If that happened then the king might have the towns guards patrol that street as a part of their daily routine.

After a few moments of walking in the cool morning air he reached the door of a store that he hit fairly often; Silver Moon Provisioners. Silver Moon was fairly large, which was odd for a company of such wealth to be located in the poorer district. They had other locations throughout the city as well, the only reason this one was where it is was because its backside is up against the water. Most stores had large—or small depending on how wealthy the company was—storehouses where they kept