The Triumvirate

The Triumvirate

A Story by Explosive Wordsmith
"

In a world covered in darkness, three are the only hope for salvation.

"

The City of the Dead, the original name lost to the ravages of time. Once a beautiful, thriving city with a large population, it was the center of the known world. The market boasted goods from all across the continent, guaranteeing sights and smells that were unknown to the passerby. The top guilds were all headquartered there, from the formidable Blademasters to the secretive College of Mages. The city was a myriad of colors, smells, and sounds. It was truly the center of the universe.

 

Like so many others, Emeritas called this place home. Emeritas was a Mage, perhaps the most famous of all the Mages. After twenty long years of study, he rose to the highest of all the Mages as Grand Warlock of the College. Physically, he was unremarkable with the exception of his arms. If asked about them, he'd say that he simply carried the scars of twenty years of research and mistakes. Unlike most Mages in this time, he was not a War Mage; a mage dedicated to the art of destruction, selling their talents to the highest bidder and waging war in their name. Emeritas was a True Mage, a rare and almost forgotten type of Mage. True Mages were not limited in the way that most mages are. He was able to shape magic and bend it to his will, accomplishing things that were near impossible.

 

Emeritas was also a man of peace. He constantly fought against corruption and violence in general. He believed that Mages had a responsibility to keep the peace and help those in need. His voice was the lone beacon of hope for the war torn lands. His beliefs eventually led him to meet and befriend Tera, a beautiful and skilled diplomat.

 

Tera, unlike the diplomats and envoys of the age, held no allegiance to any king or lord. She went from warring kingdom to another, mediating and trying to bring about peace. Despite her inherent beauty and refined manner, she was strictly impartial with nothing truly tying her to once place.

 

The two, Emeritas and Tera, both began working together over several years to bring about lasting change to the lands. Despite their best efforts, their world began to sink into darkness. A gifted, but evil, tactician came to power in a nearby kingdom, and like all before him desired the City. He began his plots, offering olive branches in one hand and a dagger in the other. For many months, he tried to worm his way into the leadership of the City. Every attempt was met with polite resistance. Eventually, he grew tired of being rebuffed and lead open warfare with the city. His unstoppable army met the unmovable defenders of the City and the war quickly degraded into simple slaughter.

 

Even through months of warfare, neither side made any progress in ending the war. Mercenaires and allies flocked to the City, where the fighting was the heaviest and worst. Countless thousands lost their lives attempting to defend or conquer. Rumors began to spread of a skilled swordsman, a mercenary, taking the field and decimating the armies, regardless of affiliation. His name eventually reached Emeritas and Tera. Without delay, the two sent word to the swordsman, asking him to meet with them to help resolve this conflict.

 

Ossan, as the swordsman introduced himself, believed himself to be an impartial mediator, taking to the battlefield when diplomacy failed. He was a warrior of unrivaled skill who refused to lend his aid to any king for any price. He strove to decimate warring armies as a deterrant, to prevent pointless bloodshed. Within hours of meeting with the Mage and Diplomat, he agreed to help them.

 

Emeritas, a Mage of unrivaled power and knowledge, with Tera, a skilled and impartial diplomat, and Ossan, the impartial warrior, soon devised a ritual that would end the war and prevent more in the future.

 

"Emeritas," Tera called, "will this work?" She watched him as began to prepare for the ritual. He nodded and shed his outer robe. Raising his staff, he began to chant in an almost unintelligible language. Arcane energies arced around the room, focusing into his staff as he began to carve strange symbols on the stones of the room.

 

"Are you prepared to sacrifice what this ritual calls for, Diplomat?" Ossan whispered, watching Emeritas work. Tera nodded. "I hope that it works. I do not want to make this sacrifice for a plan that won't work." Ossan placed his hand on her shoulder, reassuring her through his presence. "Have faith. Emeritas knows things about magic that few can dream of and fewer can understand. He believes it will work. That is all we need."

 

Emeritas nodded and motioned for the two to join him in the circle. He withdrew a small dagger from his belt. "Are we ready to begin?" he asked, his voice breaking from the strain of chanting in a tongue not meant for mortals. Tera nodded and said, "I'll start the ritual."

 

Emeritas handed her the dagger and nodded. Taking a deep breath, she began, "The blood of the Judge, impartial to all, flows freely." She slid the dagger across her wrist, cutting deep. Wasting no time, Ossan took the dagger from her. "The blood of the Peacekeeper, sworn to protect, flows freely." He, like Tera, drew the dagger across his wrist. With a final nod, Emeritas took the dagger and began, "The Binder, whose magic holds this triumvirate together, offers forth Magic, Life, and Flesh, to hold the will of the triumvirate over all kingdoms until the end of time. May Magic make it so." With his last word, he shoved the dagger into his chest, releasing his hold on the gathered magic. A flash of light illuminated the sky, touching every soul in the world, irrevocably changing the very lands they lived in.

© 2013 Explosive Wordsmith


Author's Note

Explosive Wordsmith
This is the start to a longer, more in-depth novel idea that I've had brewing for a few months.

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Sounds like a summery for a novel idea, so it is difficult to critique as a short story. Would be nice to get 5 to 8 thousand word version of this. One word to the wise when writing fantasy; watch the cliché monster he bites. Injecting a “ravages of time” here and a “lone beacon of hope” there is not necessarily a bad thing but used to often it starts seeming like a movie poster rather than a story. If you write a longer version shoot me a message I will read it.

Posted 10 Years Ago



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Added on March 13, 2013
Last Updated on March 13, 2013
Tags: Short Story, Prologue, Story Ideas

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Explosive Wordsmith
Explosive Wordsmith

GA



About
I have been writing since I was very young, with my most serious attempts at writing anything at age 17. Once upon a time, I was a member of this website and had quite a few works on here. Unfortunate.. more..

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