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During Shattered Web, Tallin breaches the wards of S'Hea to kill B'Rodyn D'Riel and his family, even as Samara Mirage crosses dimensions to kidnap Y'Roden's youngest sons. After killing the S'Hean Royal family, Tallin turns his attention to Corin. He has in his grasp, Si'Lyen D'Riel... and one enraged Amazon who was caught tracking him from one place to another.
Derwin lowered his blade slightly, his glittering blue eyes scanning the sea of Uruk-hai faces. “They are waiting,” he said in a tone that seemed all to calm, “For him.”
A soft gasp from Se’Liene expressed that the Corin Queen knew exactly who her husband was referring to.
“No ... not again,” she whispered.
“Yes, again,” a deep baritone answered from the crowd, the Uruk-hai parting to let the dark haired Mage through with Si’Lyen in tow. “But THIS time ... I win. Pawn,” he gave the strawberry blonde a good shake, “In play, now ... who should I take out first? The Queen? or the King? I always did love these strategy games.”
Si’Lyen didn’t say a word. She drooped with exhaustion and grief, unable to look at Derwin or Se’Liene. She just wanted the king and queen to run away, to hide, to be safe, to avoid B’Rodyn and Gwen’s fate.
Callan barely flicked a glance at Si’Lyen...he was watching this...person, who stank of blood, magic and greed, a combination of smells any Black Dragon was well familiar with...but under it all lay a scent that told Callan exactly who this was...Modar.
The steady drip of blood making soft splattering sounds were all the broke silence for a time...Callan felt no pain, not yet, but his wounds were many. When the Rage wore off...then the pain would come, until then, he thanked Flame and Chaos for the numbing surge of adrenaline in his veins.
“Aye...you seem to have us at check...” Callan muttered softly. “But I would not be so sure you’ve won the game. Pawns are easy, they’re bullet catchers...but its the knights you have to watch for...”
DragonFire began to softly shimmer in his hands, the barest glimmer of heat waves dancing in the dim light. “And its oftime the knights that best protect the king...”
“Yes,” Tallin agreed, “That is true, but it is often the knight that fails the King ... for love of a Queen.” From behind the Dark Mage came two Uruk-hai, holding a furious Amazon Queen between them.
“Kill him!” she screamed at Callan, “Fry the bastard!” An’Thaya’s thick mane of fiery red hair almost seemed to float around her head and her feet never touched the ground as she twisted in the grip of her assailants. They had caught her off guard in Rakka Keep, but now the rage had returned and the expression in her emerald greens was deadly.
Callan could not be sure Tallin knew of his bond with Agaru, but had a suspicion this one knew far more than Callan was comfortable with. But if he thought his dragging his mate’s skinwalker forth like this would make Callan suddenly withdraw his Flame, this one did not know near enough.
“Doste Iman...Red...” Callan wasn’t sure what was about to happen...but he wasn’t going to leave Agaru alone, not with Modar.
Tallin whirled around, dragging Si’Lyen with him, and slapped his niece hard across the face. “Shut up you little bitch!” he snarled at the Amazon, “I will break you ... you will be MINE, finally. But first, I have a few loose ends to tie up. Light’s Hope,” he stroked her face with the same fingers that had struck her a moment before, “So beautiful when you are angry.” An almost wistful expression flickered across his face, but when he turned back around it was gone. Handing his pawn to a General he drew his sword. “Brother ... dearest, it is time to finish what we started, don’t you think? I believe you had something to say to me about Gardor?”
Callan had used the moment Tallin had turned on An’Thaya to gather his flame to him, used the Silver and Black in him to alter the flame, add to its heat and in his mind’s eye, Callan could see the flame shaping itself into something...different. The words had barely past Modar’s lips when Callan launched his attack. Drawing on his Rage, Callan plunged his claymore into the very stone of the floor itself, the DragonSteele blade setting off a screaming vibration that set the Uruk-hai to covering their ears and at the same moment, the Dragon Emperor hurled a concentrated blade of blue-white DragonFire with both hands at Tallin, putting all his Rage, all his bloodthirst, all his energy into that One. Single. Flame.
Unable to cover her ears An’Thaya screamed and thrashed her head, though she didn’t miss the flame that shot out at her Uncle. A mad gleam lit her eyes and the Dragon within reached out to her mate. “Doste Iman...Black.”
The fire slammed into Tallin, knocking him clear off his feet and into the swarm of beasts behind. For a heartening moment, to the Amazon at least, the flames enveloped the dark mage, threatening to burn him to a cinder. Then they ceased, snuffing out like a light, but leaving a startled expression on Modar’s face as he pushed forward again. “Well met,” he hissed.
“Indeed...Modar,” Callan spat the last word out as though it were a foul word. The dragon was surprised that Modar had withstood the flame that had struck him, but refused to let it show. “Shall we continue this?” Callan was at half-crouch, his awareness centered on Modar.
Derwin’s eyes were on his eldest daughter, anger flaring in their depths when his brother struck her. “Let my daughter go ... let my granddaughter go. An’Thaya will never give in to you Grendorin, not my girl. She has more spirit and free will then you have ever been able to tame, no matter how hard you’ve tried.” He stepped away from Callan, his sword at the ready, “You do have one thing right though. We have an old score to settle. I loved our little brother, and I promised him retribution.”
“As much as your invitation might appeal to me,” Tallin addressed Callan first, “I am afraid I have a prior engagement.” His gaze lingered on the nursery, and for a moment something flickered behind the madness in his eyes. He had grown up here, passing the days with his two brothers under the watchful eye of their mother. It seemed so long ago ... In human terms, it was. Centuries ... millennia ... the innocence of youth lost in a past he could no longer see.
“Very well,” his expression was a cold mask when he turned to Derwin, “Brother dear. Let’s have at it, shall we? This has been far to long in coming. As for Gardor ... he was a fool. A weak minded, pathetic fool. He thought to betray ME? He was just the first to discover what happens in the face of treachery, a lesson you are about to learn.”
“I believe you have misunderstood the meaning of the word my brother,” Derwin said calmly, “I am King by right, not you. Treachery is betraying your King and country, something YOU are guilty of many times over.”
Tallin howled with rage and descended on the redheaded King, slicing at him in an almost sloppy manner. Derwin was ready, he knew Grendorin for the excellent swordsman he was. They had been trained by the same ArmsMaster, after all. It was all an act, designed to catch him off his guard. He deflected the actual attack that swung in with lethal intent and struck back, catching his brother across the ribs.
The dark mage’s eyes flashed dangerously and he stepped back for a moment, pressing his hand to the bloodied material on his side. “First blood ...my turn.” The duet began in earnest then, they were well matched ... too well. Both large and incredibly lithe, Tager’s teaching never forgotten by either. Time seemed to slow, filled with the clash of steel and the sheen of sweat.
For a time, it seemed Tallin was losing. He gave ground beneath the fury of Derwin’s blows, his body shaking with the sheer strength of the contact between their blades. It was accident really ... a slip of the foot in a pool of Uruk-hai blood, a slight opening in Derwin’s guard. It was all the man who had once been his brother needed. The sword point came up with the speed of a striking snake, slicing through flesh and piercing the heart. The last thing the King heard was Se’Liene’s scream and his brother’s voice.
“Check Mate.”
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