The story so far:
Arnon turned as figures emerged from around a corner into view. All tainted, hate in their eyes and crossbows trained on the Bloodseeker.
He waited as they surrounded him and another man emerged, this one different, chest out, shoulders up, this was a leader.
Arnon laughed mirthlessly and dropped his head. "I am a fool." He looking into Mawin's glazed eyes and nodded. "Well played, tainted one." He looked up at the leader. "So go ahead, kill me. Your blasted kind will be able to do as they will without fear. I am the last Bloodseeker after all."
The man shook his head sadly. "You are a fool, Seeker. We're not going to kill you. Someone wishes to see you. Drop your weapons, and this will go peacefully."
Arnon's eyes widened. Who? Who among the tainted ones would wish to see him? Did it matter? His hands tightened their grip on his daggers. He would not go willingly, could not, but how to fight without becoming a pincushion of bolts?
Surprisingly, help came from Mawin, his last sigh leading him to death, and the fire with him. "Fools!" Arnon called out laughing in the sudden darkness, moving. Bolts flew, whistling through the place Arnon had been, but he was no longer there.
In the darkness, sounds of scuffling, groans of pain, and the thuds of bodies collapsing met the leader's ears as he desperately opened his hand and produced a ball of flame, illuminating the area. Two crossbowmen were lying on the ground, unmoving, the third stood against the wall, clutching a dagger in his stomach, and the fourth was engaged in a struggle against Arnon.
It was brief, as Arnon ripped the crossbow out of the mans hands and smashed him over the head with it. The third and fourth collapsed, and Arnon turned to the leader, fire in his eyes.
With a strangled yell, the leader hurled the ball of fire, and began preparing another. Arnon rolled to the side, as the fireball flew by and blasted the wall behind him. Rolling into a crouch, he tossed the crossbow, the wood smashing into the leader's face, knocking him stumbling backwards into the wall, blood pouring out of his broken nose.
He couldn't focus anymore, couldn't conjure any fire, or anything else, as Arnon moved up, grabbed a handful of shirt in one hand and placed a blade against the man's neck with the other.
"Where?" Arnon asked coldly. He pressed the blade harder. The man coughed up some blood and struggled for breath.
He finally sputtered an address. Arnon ripped the blade across the throat and let the man fall. He acquired his blades from the corpses, and left.
"They haven't returned yet."
"Then they are dead, and he is coming."
"You can't possibly be sure...There were five of them!"
"They are dead. You know as well as I do. Leave me. I will handle him myself."
Rain poured from the skies like a waterfall, drenching Arnon, who stood in an alley, watching the small house across the street. He'd seen nobody leave, nor anybody enter in the past twenty four hours.
He emerged from the alley and stalked up to the front door, which he promptly kicked in. A quaint living room opened to him. A doorway on the left revealed a kitchen, and towards the back, a bathroom. It was a cozy home, that was all.
Had the leader lied, even on his deathbed? Given Arnon some abandoned house? But no, this house was very much lived in, from the looks of things.
"Are you proud, Arnon? To have killed so many tainted?"
A voice arose from down the hall. It was strong, and familiar. The familiarity compelled Arnon to follow it, down a hall and to stairs.
"Come Arnon. Come and face a challenge, a test."
Arnon stepped slowly up the stairs, curiosity moving him forward. He wished to know the owner of the voice, but was also afraid. This is because he already knew who it was.
He arrived at a hallway. At the end of the hall lay a door slightly ajar.
"Will you do your duty, Arnon?" The voice asked.
Arnon snarled. He could smell the taint from that doorway. He charged forward and slammed the door open with a fist.
A small bedroom, ragged bed, upon which a pregnant woman sat. The taint was coming from her, and she looked at Arnon with fearful eyes. There in an armchair in the corner. A young man the spitting image of his father.
"Zayn", Arnon breathed, surprised. He glanced at the woman, and then back at his son. "What have you done?"
Zayn stood up angrily, glaring at his father. "Done? What have I done, father?" He pointed a finger at Arnon, who felt a sudden weakness come over him. "How many have you murdered? How many innocents, father?"
Arnon fell to a knee, not knowing what was sapping his strength so suddenly. He glared back at his boy. "They are tainted, Zayn. You know this! I taught you!"
"Taught me? You only taught me things you didn't even believe in yourself, father! I could see it in your eyes. You don't even believe in what you're doing, but you do it anyways. Its pathetic."
Arnon dropped his head and closed his eyes. "What else is there to do?" He whispered.
"So what will you do now, father? Kill my wife and unborn child? That's your duty, isn't it?"
Arnon looked up at the frightened woman. He stood up shakily. He still felt weak, and didn't know why. His voice was cold when he spoke, emotionless. "They kidnapped you Zayn. They killed your mother. They've tricked you, manipulated you against me. How innocent do you think they are?"
Zayn took a deep breath. "How many murderers are there among humans, father? Are you going to start slaughtering them, as well? What could you expect them to do, with a whole race trying to murder them all? What would you do, father? What have you done already?"
Arnon sighed. "So you sided with them, son. That's too bad. You've even bedded one. A child from a Tainted one and a Seeker. A Tainted Seeker. What good will come with that?"
"An end. An end to all this mindless violence, this genocide. I realized long ago what you know but will not accept. That your entire life has been for nothing. Nothing but hate and violence." Zayn nodded suddenly. "I understand. If you could accept this, accept the truth, you'd realize what you truly are. A mindless murderer."
Arnon slipped his daggers into his hands. "If there is no one to face them, no one to make them afraid, they will take over once again. I do not know much, that is true, but I was taught a little. They ruled the world with an iron fist until the Bloodseeker's stopped them. They will do so again once the Seeker's are gone."
Zayn shook his head, and took his own daggers out. "I do not believe that."
Arnon nodded. "Then I am sorry."
"Not as sorry as you will be. You have the strength and speed of a Seeker, the physical abilities of a Seeker, but nothing more. When I left home, I sought knowledge, and found it. A Seeker's mind is as powerful as his body."
Zayn's eyes narrowed. Arnon surged forward, only to feel a ball of air slam into his chest sending him flying backwards. He crashed through the doorway and tumbled down the hall. He stood up quickly, as Zayn rushed him, daggers spinning, twirling, thrusting.
Arnon's own blades were there to meet them, and the two, father and son, became a blur of movement. They danced in the hall, daggers ringing against their opponents, spinning, swirling, slicing and dicing.
Arnon knocked Zayn's daggers away from his body and kicked out with his foot, catching his son in the chest. Zayn stumbled back into the bedroom, Arnon closely following, and the dance began anew.
Arnon felt himself growing weaker by the second, each block and thrust becoming slower and slower. This was impossible. His body was a machine. One of Zayn's blade went unblocked, and Arnon turned his head just in time, getting a scratch instead of death.
Arnon growled. "Stop it boy!" He yelled, suddenly shoving Zayn away into the wall. He hurled both daggers. Zayn crouched, dodging the daggers that sunk into the wall by his head. "You use their tricks as well?" Arnon grabbed two more daggers.
"I use only the powers of a Seeker, father!" Zayn replied, hurling his own. Arnon dodged one and blocked the other away. It crashed through the window. "Powers you didn't even know existed, you ignorant old fool!"
Arnon charged. Zayn drew more daggers. The dance continued. Arnon attacked with renewed fury, and felt his strength return. Powers of the mind. If Zayn can use his mind to attack, perhaps Arnon could use his own to defend?
Arnon felt himself thrown into a bookcase, and his hands spasmed, dropping his daggers.
"Your tricks can't save you!" Arnon yelled. Zayn charged. Arnon snatched a book and threw it at his son's face. Zayn was surprised, though batted the book away easily with a hand.
Arnon was right there behind it though, slamming his shoulder into Zayn's belly, picking him up, charging and ramming him into the wall. Zayn dropped to the ground, Arnon on top of him. Arnon's fists flew, pounding Zayn's face.
Arnon cried out suddenly, as Zayn plunged his two daggers into his father's flesh. Arnon stood and stumbled back. Zayn stood slowly, face bruised and bloody.
Arnon ripped the daggers out, breathing heavily, and glaring at Zayn.
"I'm not done yet." Arnon snarled, covered in sweat and blood.
"Yes you are." A voice came from behind him, the hallway. Arnon turned to see a red-robed man. Before Arnon could react, the strange man raised his hand, and Arnon was flying through the air. He crashed through the window and fell two stories, crashing into a cart on the street below.
Zayn looked at the new man with wide eyes. "Who the hell are you?"
"That doesn't matter." The man spoke very matter-of-factly in a monotone voice. "What matters is that the Seeker's survive. All of you. Your father, you, and your son. You each have a part to play."
"A part to play in what?" Zayn asked suspiciously.
"In Medias's redemption. In the city's very survival. You argue and fight eachother while the city around you falls into deeper depths of corruption, chaos, and evil. There is something worse then the Seeker's, worse then the Tainted ones, worse then your bloodfeud. Sinister and scheming, it is a threat to the entirety of the realm. It manipulates the people of Medias to their own destruction. There is a dark force at work here. I can say no more."
"But-" Zayn replied, but the man was gone. Zayn stood up and glanced out the window. Arnon was gone. Zayn went to his wife and held her close.
A man staggered into the common room of an inn, his clothes drenched and bloody. He stumbled to an empty chair and sat, rubbing his hand over his face. A waitress walked up, and looked him over.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
The man nodded. "A room and a drink, please." He says in a tired voice. "And also some clothes, and a meal." He added, pulling out a handful of coins and handing them to her.
She was about to say they didn't carry clothes, but then noticed the amount of gold she held. She merely nodded to his request and went to the bartender, who was also the owner of the establishment.
The man checked the bandages over his two wounds.
A plate of food and a mug of ale arrived. He dug in ravenously. He noticed the waitresses smile but did nothing. He also noticed another man pinch the waitress as she walked by. She gave him a dirty look. The man stood up suddenly and grabbed her.
"Aw come on, you know you want it." The man said with a laugh. His friends at the table chuckled. She tried to push away, but he held strong. The bartender motioned to the bouncer, a huge barbarian of a man, but someone else got there first.
The bandaged and bloody man was there, snatching the arm that held the woman, and wrenching it behind the other man's back. The man cried out in pain, but the bloodied man didn't listen. Everyone heard the audible breaking of bone, and the scream of agony from the molester, who was hurled to the ground. The mans friends stood up, but suddenly, daggers danced in the strange man's hands. They gulped and sat back down.
Everyone looked at the strange man, who stood calmly and quietly, as the man on the floor cried in pain.
The bartender stared at him quizzically. "Whats your name boy?"
The man sighed as he put his daggers away.
"I don't remember."
As one tale ends, another begins...