Part 1

  Gary Bolan lead his herd of cows across the dirt path. It was a warm late summer day, and the sky was clear. He looked up as the last of his cows crossed the path, and saw a plume of dust rising further down the road. He moved to the side, and watched his cows graze in the adjacent grassy field. He was interested in the commotion coming his way, so he hung around the side of the road. As the plume grew larger, Gary began to wonder what was going on. A group of soldiers, lead by two men on an Ursaphant rode up. The large pachyderm slowed to a halt in front of Gary. He stood, with his jaw agape, looking up at the beast. He had never expected Royal Soldiers out in the frontier. One of the men on the Ursaphant climbed down and stood in front of Gary.

  “You there, Herdsmen! Have you seen this man?” The soldier held up a drawing of a criminal. The man did not look familiar to Gary.

  “‘Fraid not. Not many folk out this way.” Gary drawled out to the crisp looking soldier. The soldier nodded, and in a slight huff, climbed back up the large mount and headed out. The six or so horse mounted soldiers dashed after the large Ursaphant, and soon the whole group was a small plume of dust on the horizon. Gary looked on for a moment. He wondered what that man did to get such a group after him.

  Aegon Dymos laid under an oak tree. A clear blue stream ran nearby. He smiled to himself as he chewed a piece of long grass. His back was now fully healed, and he had been traveling a long way on foot. Several months had passed since the beginning of the summer, and his group’s failed night raid on the jeweler. He had managed to limp into a small hamlet near the old hide-out, where a kind old woman helped him recover. He told her he had been a hunter, and that he was attacked and robbed by highwaymen. The old fool believed him, and nurtured him back to health. He decided not to rob and kill her because she did help him, afterall. She sent him away with a pack full of food and a small pouch of coins. It had been enough to get him well out of the Jeweler’s County. He hadn’t run into further trouble since. Sometimes though, he wondered about the person who injured him.

  Aegon sat up and got his pack. He secured his dagger to his belt, drew his cloak about him, and put the pack on. It was time to move on. He had planned to go to the border, and see if he could sneak into the neighboring Kingdom. He did not want to risk being caught in Vornair. As he walked down the road he kept a sharp eye out for Royal patrols and other threats. It had been almost two full weeks since he had seen any Royal Soldiers, but he did not let his guard down. It would only take one slip, and he’d be hung from the gallows, set in the guillotine, or worse. He walked, constantly looking over his shoulder. He would think about Ehart from time to time, and regretted not being able to bury his friend properly. Then he would think about Celar, and how their old leader had left them both to die. He felt betrayed, and swore that he’d kill Celar if he ever saw him again.

  The road took a sharp turn from the sparsely forested area Aegon had been walking through. It opened up into a vast grassland. Small yellow flowers dotted the sea of green, and gently rolling hills gave way to a vast expanse of mountains, far on the horizon. Aegon looked across the plains, and couldn’t see any settlements. It would be a long walk, so he set in, and got a stride going. The sun was beating down on the fields, and the large amount of grass made the area hot and humid. It was mid afternoon, and the air was still. Aegon grumbled as he began to sweat profusely. This area was a nightmare to walk through at this time of day. As the suns got lower in the sky though, the air began to move, and a slight breeze picked up. It cooled Aegon off as he walked. By now, Aegon had managed to find a settlement down the road, despite his initial impressions of the area. A small puff of white smoke was all that betrayed the presence of a village or town. Evening was setting in. He headed straight for the smoke in hopes of finding a hot meal and a warm bed.

  Celar Dux cackled as he slammed the cards down on the table. The three men gathered around, sighed and grumbled as they pushed their coins toward him. Celar scooped the pot up and dropped the coins into his coin purse. He sneered wiley at the three men.

  “You’re one lucky son of a bitch, Alfred.” Said one of them to Celar. Celar looked the three of them over and shook his head.

  “I’m just good at cards.” He retorted.

  “A little too good.” Replied another man, who glared suspiciously at Celar.

  “I’ll be heading out now, Gents. I’ve got places to be.” Celar pushed himself away from the table, and made to leave the tavern. As he did so, the three men huddled together and began whispering. Celar was already out of the tavern and down the street when they started to follow him. He had been drinking a bit, and was slightly buzzed from the alcohol, but he was stable on his feet. The men followed him into an alleyway, and then through a deserted street. Celar finally noticed them. He stopped and turned around.

  “Eh, what do you guys want? I already told you, I’ve got stuff to do.” Celar looked at the three. They stood with their arms crossed, looking at him disdainfully. They slowly approached, but Celar kept his ground, defiant of their intimidation.

  “You robbed us, Alfred. We know you cheated in that game. We want our money back.” The leader said. Celar raised a brow.

  “I didn’t cheat. You fools are just bad at cards!” Celar said. One of the men stepped forward and jabbed Celar in the gut with a quick right. The other men then jumped to action, kicking and punching Celar. Celar fought back through the gasps for air. He swung and kicked. He managed to connect a hard left to a jaw, but was quickly overtaken by the brute force of the three combined. He fell to the ground and was repeatedly kicked and stomped, before his coin purse was cut and the three men ran quickly from the scene.

  Celar got up and brushed himself off. He wiped the blood from his nose and lip and sighed. He spat on the ground and turned for the inn he was staying at. He could not wait to be out of Vornair.

  Part 2

  Celar plopped down on the rented bed. He sighed and blinked his good eye several times. After a few moments, he reached under his mattress and removed a small wooden box. Upon opening the box, he gazed upon a glittering blue sapphire of exquisite quality. The gem was uncut, but it still sparkled unlike any rough gem Celar had ever seen. He was glad he decided to risk capture in order to grab this beauty from the spot Maxwell Stonehauler said it was. Celar looked upon the blue gem in admiration. He wondered how much it would sell for in foreign lands.

  He quickly put the stone back in the small box and stuffed it under the mattress again. His thoughts turned to Aegon and Ekhart. He missed his old friends, and wished he could have the old gang back together. If that were possible, he’d have his revenge on the bastards that beat him up and took his winnings earlier in the night. He laid back on the bed, and looked up at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts until sleep took hold of him.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Celar heard a scratching at the door. It was late, and everything was still. It sounded almost as if a creature was trying to scratch its way in. Celar rubbed his eyes and grabbed a small dagger from his pile of clothing on the floor. He crept silently over to the door and listened. There was a heavy wheezing and then another scratch. It was a light sound. Celar didn’t even know why such a sound woke him up. He slowly pulled the latch down, and let the door swing out. A gnarled old hand reached into the dark room, illuminated only by the full moon. Long yellow fingernails pointed into the darkness. Celar looked at the hand from his position on the right of the entrance. He grimaced as a foul stench wafted into the air. He choked, and this slight noise made the hand withdraw quickly back. Celar was terrified, and he couldn’t think of why. Another moment passed, and a dark hunched over form entered the room all at once. Long white hair billowed behind it. Celar gasped, as the hag turned and looked at him with dark eyes. She grinned a toothless smile

  “Wha--What do you want?” Celar choked between his fear and the horrid smell.

  “You have something valuable. I will trade you for it.” The hag wheezed. Celar was terrified. The feeling this old hag gave off was truly something he had never felt before. The dagger was pointed at her, but he was shaking. He dropped the weapon with a clatter on the floor.

  “What are you talking about?” He chanced a look at the mattress where the sapphire was hidden.

  “The sapphire. I will trade you the secret of immortality for it.” The hag coughed, and Celar tilted his head. Immortality was an enticing thought.

  “Why? Why would you trade such a valuable secret for a mere gem?”

  “It is of no concern to you. Do you want to trade or not?” The hag looked at Celar, and his blood ran cold. He felt that he could not resist both the temptation of immortality, and the fear of saying no to the hag.

  “What is the secret? I will trade.” Celar sighed. He was scared, but intrigued. What could make someone immortal?

  “You will need to go to the Astral Plane. There, a spirit will tell you how to become immortal.” Celar’s eyes widened. The hag pointed a boney finger at him. Celar screamed as something shot from the wench's finger and into his chest. He collapsed on the floor, lifeless.

  Everything felt wrong. He could not feel the weight of himself. He felt disconnected from the world, but something pulled at him. Celar opened his eyes. Everything was shimmering. The sky was different. He was in some sort of woods. The trees were the wrong color, and there was a persistent sparkling to the world. He noticed something on his chest. A thin silver chain. It was connected to him, but he instinctively knew it ran from his body into the woods. He pulled the chain toward him, but there wasn’t much slack. He began to walk in the direction the chain was going. As he did so, it retracted into his body, never leaving any slack behind. He walked for a while, following the chain and wondering where he was. He couldn’t quite remember how he got here. All he remembered was falling asleep in the inn’s room. He soon began to realize where he was. He was on the road leading to the plains the town was in. He rubbed his head, but his hand made no connection with the ethereal spirit-body he had. It finally dawned on him. Celar Dux was dead. He was walking in the Astral Plane. He suddenly remembered the events of last night. The hag had promised him immortality! He began to move faster. He followed the chain, thinking it would take him to the spirit.

  He was correct. As soon as Celar emerged from the edge of the woods and onto the plains, a soul was waiting for him. Its shimmering amorphous form glimmered before him. A voice echoed from it.

  “Celar Dux. You have committed great and terrible crimes against your fellow Mann. Robbery, abduction, torture and murder. You have sent many souls to the Astral Plane. This is your key to immortality.” The voice was hollow and wispy. Celar watched as a small leather box, no bigger than the one he hid the sapphire in, levitated toward him.

  “What’s this?” Celar asked the spirit.

  “You will know in time, Celar Dux. Immortality is within your grasp. Now, follow the chain of fate back to your material self before it is too late.” The spirit vanished. Celar rushed forward, following the chain. He was afraid to find out what “Too late” meant. Soon he was at the inn where his body was. It lay to the right of the open door to his room. His eyes were open and blank. Celar knew the stare of a dead man, so he quickly tugged on the chain. He felt a great pressure and squeezing sensation, then it all went black.

  Part 3

  Gary Bolan rubbed his eyes as he got up out of bed. It was late, and something had startled his cattle. He grabbed a torch off the wall and headed outside. He couldn’t see anything in the darkness. The cattle were milling about the pen. They looked nervous, so Gary walked around the fence, checking for signs of predators. He had a club at his hip, just in case he ran into a lone coyote or fox. He felt a sudden burst of pain, as a silver sword tip emerged from his stomach. He dropped the torch and slowly fell to his knees, gripping the blade’s tip. He never saw who stabbed him. He died before he fell to the ground. Aegon removed the blade from the farmer’s gut and wiped the blood off on the grass nearby. He rifled through the farmer’s pockets and took the keys to his house. He then proceeded to enter the dead man’s home.

  As Aegon entered the house, he began to look around. He smiled as it was clear the farmer had no family inside. He sat on a kitchen chair and ate some bread that was on the table. He thought about Celar’s betrayal. As he wandered through scenarios revolving around Celar’s future death, he noticed a drawing on the table. He slid the parchment over toward him and saw Celar’s face staring back at him. The page read:

  WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE FOR CRIMES AGAINST THE KINGDOM

  Reward of 1,000 gold for the capture of this man. 500 gold for the corpse. 100 gold to anyone with information leading up to his arrest. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous!

  Aegon chuckled as he folded the page up and slipped it into his pocket. He might be able to make some gold in all of this. Celar’s death was only getting better and better. He got up from the chair and made his way to the counter. The room was dark, and only lit by the light of the full moon. He fumbled around before finally finding a pitcher. He gave it a sniff and found it to be beer, so he poured himself a cup and drank heartily. In the morning, he’d continue into town and try to find Celar Dux.

  Meanwhile, back in the County, Reginald Forrester sat on his porch, angrily glaring off into the night. He was still recovering from his time in the cellar. Reginald had suffered greatly at the hands of Celar and his gang. His status as the Kingdom’s finest jeweler was on the line. He needed to craft more, but his motivation was solely on finding Celar Dux and making him pay. His son, James Forrester had been gone for several weeks, in search of Celar and Aegon Dymos. James had swore to his father that he would bring the criminals to justice. The Bounty Hunter, Roka, had also accompanied him. Reginald had not heard from either of them since they departed.

  The portly craftsmen leaned back and grumbled. His house was a mess, and his shop had been closed most of the summer now. He would occasionally meet up with Maxwell Stonehauler to discuss plans for exacting revenge on Celar. That was the only thing he could think about most of the time. He spat into the darkness and closed his eyes. When he was healed, he would meet up with his son, and they would track Celar together and bring the fool to justice.