Legacy, Book II of the Corruption Trilogy Options

[Zalphon]

Prologue
4E 512

My ebony long sword danced into the flesh of the heretics. It would slide itself into one, and then tear into another. I noticed each of the heretics cower as Lord-Templar Draconis walked forward. We all kneeled as he strode to the middle of the battle-field.

“You dare defy the word of Kalian Broodikus, Heretics?” he shouted. “The Inquisitors ‘may’ show mercy if you accept the error of your ways.” It was rumored that Lord-Templar Draconis had traveled with Kalian himself. Apparently his aura of fear intimidated most of the heretics and they dropped their weapons.

A fair-haired woman with snowy skin shouted, “You may break our bodies, but Kalian is long-gone. He is no god.” Each of the heretics, who had surrendered, picked up their weapons and charged.

“Troopers of Kalian follow the Templar into war,” I cried out. “Their attempts to defile Kalian’s Valor will go unsuccessful.” I watched as the chain-mail clad troopers charged into battle behind us templar.

Lord-Templar Draconis shouted out a prayer, “Lord Kalian, please bless me with the ability to control holy fire!” Suddenly a long, thin serpent of flame was conjured and it was commanded by the Lord-Templar. Within moments, the battle-field had the stench of charred flesh. The stench of heretic charred flesh arose from each of the blackened corpses.

“Templar, lead your troops back to Skingrad,” the Lord-Templar ordered. “Templar Ashur, report to me in Castle Skingrad.” The grassy plains were stained with blood and ash. It was the price of war. Lord-Templar Draconis wished to speak to me, but why?

We began marching to Skingrad. Well over forty miles, we’d likely arrive in two days. However, what did Lord-Templar Draconis want of me? Had I done something wrong? Few earned the Lord-Templar’s attention without either impressing or angering him.

After two eventless days of marching, we saw the bustling city of Skingrad. The sermons had just ended and children were out playing. Men and women alike were working. When they saw us marching, they applauded. We were the Templar and the Troopers of Kalian and their protectors.

The soldiers slowly drifted off to perform their own affairs, but I found myself walking towards Castle Skingrad. Civilians and Troopers saluted me alike. Across Tamriel, any Templar was revered. Finally I reached the large, double doors of Castle Skingrad and the troopers opened them.

I nervously walked towards the throne room. Sitting on it was Lord-Templar Draconis in his armor. We both were. Templar always wore their armor except when they bathed or slept. I pulled off my helmet, “Lord-Templar, you asked for me to come?”

“Templar Ashur, you rallied the troopers,” he slowly explained as he pulled his helmet off. His white skin, icy blue eyes, and jet-black hair made him look even more intimidating. Those eyes followed me and I could feel them searching me for fear.

“I did, Lord-Templar,” I replied honestly. “It’s my duty as a Templar to unite them under my word. I am a Champion of Kalian’s Will.” My voice was sincere, proud, and afraid all at once. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or impressed yet.

“Templar Ashur, I’ve watched you for some time,” the Lord-Templar nodded. “Kalian and I were once friends. We fought side-by-side and once against each other. I wish for you to bring me someone…actually somebody of much importance to me and to Kalian.”

“Who do you refer to Lord-Templar?” I questioned.

“His native name is Sar-Kura or as he is called in Tamrielic, Quick-Strike,” he explained. “Quick-Strike was one who trained Kalian, as I did as well. However, I taught him in the Ways of the Old Religion.”

“What is the Old Religion?” I wasn’t sure if it was worship of the Aedra or the Daedra. Or if it was worship of some ‘god’ that wasn’t either of them.

“The old religion is worship of the Aedric Deities. Many followed them before Kalian saved Mundus and became a god.”

“Sar-Kura, is he dangerous?” I knew the answer to that. If he taught Kalian anything he was likely a master of his trade.

“He once bested me in combat before I could draw my sword.” I gulped. The Lord-Templar of Cyrodiil was the most powerful of the Lord-Templar. He was second only to Kalian and he only answered to the Templar-Emperor out of respect, not fear.

“And you seek for me to bring him to you, Lord-Templar?”

“Kalian will guide your blade and ward you from Sar-Kura,” Lord-Templar Draconis nodded. “After Kalian became a god, Sar-Kura betrayed his pupil and refused to acknowledge that Kalian was the only deity worthy of worship.”
“He betrayed his own apprentice? Who could do that to their own pupil?” I heard the words of betrayal to Kalian. But how could one who taught him and fought with him betray him?

“The Argonian assassin did it to Kalian. Also, ‘J’skooma’ or ‘Ra’Kyre’ is a Khajiit Wizard who was extremely loyal to Sar-Kura while I traveled with him.” The cold breeze of the castle winds forced me to shiver, but I simply nodded acknowledging what he said.

“The last time I spoke to Sar-Kura was twelve years ago right below the top of the White-Gold Tower,” he explained. “He’ll likely find you before you find him, Templar Ashur.” Those words sent ice up my spine.

“Yes sir, when may I leave?” I asked curiously. “And may I take some other Templar or some troopers with me?”

“You’re to go alone,” the Lord-Templar stated. “Let your equipment be your shield and your faith be your weapon. Sar-Kura and Ra’Kyre must pay for their treacherous actions.” I slowly bobbed my head to show acknowledgement and I grabbed my helmet. As I walked out, my black cloak flowing softly behind me.

The Templar looked at me and saluted with a fist to chest. When I reached the giant, double-doors two troopers pulled them open. I had to begin my search, but where? Who would know anything about them?

[Zalphon]

Chapter One: True Sight (Part I)

With my hands tightly holding the hilt of my blade, I walked through Skingrad. The Troopers and the Citizens saluted with fist-to-heart as I walked by. They knew the Templar were Kalian’s Finest. We modeled ourselves after the Champion of Nirn.

The sun was beginning to set, creating a beautiful horizon. As I walked, I noticed many head back to their homes. The curfew kept people safe from the darker entities of Tamriel. The beautiful colors melded together in the sky, warming my heart slightly.

I turned around, curious to see what eyes were following me. What I found startled me. A Nord in Nordic-Steel Chainmail stood there, watching me ever so curious. He opened his mouth and said, “In the east, I wait…”

I went to walk closer to him, but then he faded away in a puff of smoke. What was that? Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me or maybe this was one of the Tribal Shamans put to death for their heresy. I didn’t know which, but I had to investigate. I turned back around and marched east, my eyes forward.

The Troopers moved out of my way. The Templar was a symbol of heroism across Tamriel. To the icy north in Skyrim to the searing deserts of Elsewyr, we were feared and respected. After two troopers pushed open the gates for me, I saw an ethereal, silver wolf sitting. It stood up and started walking further to the East.

What choice did I have, but to follow? Maybe this spirit could lead me to Sar-Kura and Ra’Kyre. Hopefully it would. The bright sky turned from blended colors of yellows, oranges, pinks, and purples to ebon night lit only by the shining lights in the sky and the huge sphere called the moon.

For what seemed like an hour, I walked in the grass-and-dirt land with the spectral creature. It was when we finally reached a cave that it dissapeared. A loud shout echoed on its way out, “Come in, Templar.”

Slowly I unsheathed my sword and stepped in. I muttered a prayer under my breath and my sword burst into holy light. It illuminated the entire cave and there I saw a silver-haired Nord in a suit of Nordic-Steel Chainmail. “Who are you?” I asked slowly. “You’re one of the Nordic Shamen aren’t you?”

“I am Cyril…And I have foreseen your fate, Ashur,” he stated calmly. His pale hair was whiter than the snows of Bruma. I could see the pain in his eyes. Those deep blue eyes told a story of pain, agony, and regret.

“And that is, Heretic?” I asked, my grip tightening. I was nervous, not because I cared what he would say, but because he had the power to lure me here. Few could do that to me.

“The Templar burned my village to the ground. Skaal was once a peaceful place for my people,” he sighed. “When the Templar invaded, we fought them off with all we had. I led the defense, but we weren’t strong enough.” I could see the old man tightening his own grip on the steel mace at his side. However, he released it fast enough.

“Tell me, Heretic,” I asked. “Why shouldn’t I behead you where you stand?” His eyes looked at me glumly as he kneeled. He put his hands behind his back.

“Kill me, Templar. Prove you’re nothing more than the dogs you claim to be above,” Cyril nodded. “I know you seek the ones who stood by Kalian.”

I sheathed my sword, “It is the will of the Lord-Templar they are brought to justice.” My voice was full of pride and duty. Cyril let a glare escape. He said something under his breath. I could tell it wasn’t good.

“Do you ever think for yourself, Ashur? Or only what the Lord-Templar tells you?” he responded after a moment of contemplation. I looked at him and shook my head, but was that the truth? Did I ever think for myself?