Mae's Mayhem | By : JuneMann Category: S through Z > Xanth Series Views: 4697 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Xanth Series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
One man emerged, and then another, and then a stream of armed men crossed the plains that separated Mundania from Xanth. At the head was their leader, a mop of unkempt blond hair fluttered around as the wind as Balder marched at the head of his army. He raised his clenched fist into the air and immediately the marching horde stopped and formed up into fighting groups.
Balder swept a hand casually through his hair as he turned to face to mass of people. Most were wearing traditional Norse armor, but Balder stood bare-chested before his army. A leather strap ran around his chest, keeping two spears and his long sword securely at his back. His richly woven breeches held many hidden compartments where throwing daggers were stashed.
None of these weapons though could command the same respect as the token hanging from around his neck should. Normally cold to the touch back in the Viking homesteads, the shiny bauble was warm now as the magic of Xanth returned the object to its full power. A gift from his parents, both who had originally been residents of Xanth. His mother’s power had been to call a pillar of flame down from the sky.
Smiling, Balder touched the token. His father’s gift had been to copy a person’s power into an object. The raging inferno that had sprung up behind his army spooked many of the proud warriors and sent rumblings throughout the gathering. How Balder wanted to deliver a powerful speech to his army, but he knew that the message had been received, there was no turning back.
Raising his fist again, the horde continued its march forward. Their leader’s smile only widened as he came upon their first obstacle, a tiny village busy with their daily business. For a second, a shadow of doubt crossed his mind. If he died, his loyal men would be next to trapped in a land they didn’t understand. His gift was probably the most powerful ever in all of Xanth his mother once told him, he was a bridge between Mundania and Xanth. From anywhere, at anytime he could move himself and anyone he was traveling with to any point in time in Xanth’s history. Not that it mattered, Xanth would be his and his father would be avenged. Nothing, let alone doubt could stop him.
The slaughter of the inhabitants of the village was swift and almost excessive. His men had salvaged a couple of women, but he would have none of that. They were just as dangerous as the men with their magic and he didn’t want them in his camp, in the position to do serious damage.
Then Balder stopped as he noticed his men drag four sisters to what had been designated the impromptu chopping block.
“Ladies, what are your powers”, Balder said in his best attempt at the language of Xanth.
“I…we”, the girl that appeared to be the oldest stuttered.
“Hmm”, Balder said, with a mocking concerned look on his face.
“We can change the color of the four elements”, the eldest said as she tried to hide behind her off-white hair.
“Let me guess, air”, he said tapping the eldest on the head, “water”, he said as he caressed the cheek of the young woman with hair so black that it appeared to be blue, “earth”, he said as he passed the brunette, “and fire”, he said as he stood before the youngest. A girl of about sixteen, whose fiery mane flowed down just past her shoulders, had a look of complete terror stricken across her face.
“Don’t look so scared, me and my men won’t defile you in anyway”, he turned to his men and in their native language whispered, “I never go back on my word”.
A few men chuckled, having gotten the gist of their leader’s conversation with the girls. Four strikes of the executioners axe brought a sick smile to Balder’s otherwise beautiful face. No witnesses, no one to say that an army marched in Xanth, and no one to offer any resistance later on.
Satisfied that enough had been done, he signaled his men to march east and on to vengeance.
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