8/ No Beginning Nor End*

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Without a second thought Rollen charged into the darkness inside the tower before leaping up the slick winding staircase. It was even darker than before, the shadows gathering into a gloomy presence. It seemed to roil and unfurl in a ghostly dance, like black mist swayed by a gentle breeze. 

As he climbed Rollen noticed the heavy feel of magic was oddly absent, as though broken down and sucked away. At that he pumped his legs harder against the smooth steps. Higher he went, nearing the enchanted doorway when the air filled with a sharp scent, almost like ashes but with an underlying smell of salt. His eyes watered as the smell gathered at the back of his nose. It singed his nostrils to the point of sneezing.

He landed on the platform and prepared to force his vision past the protective glamour when he saw the gaping doors. Rollen gasped, brown eyes widening in surprise. The magical veil had shattered along with the defense spell. This can't be. Nothing could open these doors. Peeking inside he noticed pale rays of light illuminating parts of the room, despite the fact that night had long since fallen. Readying himself for danger, he rushed into the room.

It was spacious with walls so high he couldn't see the ceiling in the dim light. Flashing his gaze to each corner of darkness, his hand reached for his sword, only to grab air. Glancing at his belt in alarm he remembered leaving his scabbard in his room. Cursing viciously, he curled his hand into a fist and proceeded.

Suddenly the few rays of moonlight vanished, darkness consuming the room. It was so thick he couldn't see anything. He shut his eyes then reopened them. There was no difference between this and being blind. With that conclusion, he relied on his hearing instead, stalking cautiously ahead.

A sharp whir sliced the air and Rollen jumped instinctively to the side. The clang of metal on stone ricocheted in the large chamber. Taking a deep breath Rollen waited for the next strike, body tense with anticipation. A low hum moved for him and he slid to his left before reaching out to the arm wielding the sword. His fingers grabbed cloth and extended their grip. In a swift motion Rollen snatched his assailant's wrist and twisted. There was a pained growl as the sword clattered to the ground. Rollen then yanked the arm closer to him and threw a blow. His fist met a jaw with a sickening crunch. Quickly, Rollen pushed him down and went for the sword, holding it in a firm grip.

He pursued the groaning sounds till the toes of his boot brushed something. Swiftly he raised the sword and plunged it downward, only for it to bounce on the stone floor. Muffled movements scrambled to his right and Rollen trailed after them. Judging by how low they were he asserted the attacker was still on the ground. Sure of his position Rollen lashed out with the blade. The tip slashed flesh and a stifled scream extended to the darkness. Smiling in the dark, he lifted the sword up high before thrusting it below.

Just before it dove into its target, the blade hovered in mid air. Confusion took over as Rollen pushed the sword down with more force, but it didn't budge. His eyes widened when he realized what was happening.

A blinding white light shone and exploded before him, evaporating the mass of darkness around them. Crying out in surprise Rollen covered his eyes and collapsed to the floor. Even with closed eyelids he could see the brightness of the room. It flared once more before dimming instantly. Prying his eyes open, Rollen saw bursts of colors dancing in his vision. As he blinked them away he noticed his attacker had gotten up.

The light still hovered around his frame, pulsing in sync with his breath. A dark cloak was draped on his shoulders and covered his body. His face was blocked by a drooping hood despite the emitting luminescence. The cloth on his right side had a slash across it, making it hang limp on few strings of threads. Through it Rollen discerned his bloody arm. It had a deep laceration just below his shoulder and blood rolled down his skin onto the ground in low splats. Focusing on the exposed flesh Rollen identified marks on skin. Black curving swirls that twisted on his arm in a fierce passionate dance, with no beginning nor end. Tattoos, he realized. But from the intricate design, Rollen deemed that they held a deeper meaning than for display.

Without warning the man struck out and Rollen was pushed back by an invisible force. He slammed into the wall with a loud thud. His head hit the stone so hard he nearly blacked out there and then. Crumbling to the ground he sprawled out in pain. There was a sting at the back of his eyes and a dull pain throbbing in his skull.  The taste of copper lingered at the back of his throat as blood pooled in his mouth and his eyes drooped. A deep quiet settled in his mind, lulling him into darkness. His body ached to rest, just for a moment and Rollen almost conceded. A small voice urged him awake. Don't fall asleep! It cried. If you do you'll never wake up.

The darkness taunted him, luring him into its clutches. What was the point of living only to die another day? Better his life ended here and now. Rollen almost believed the clear reasoning. With the comfort of unconsciousness blanketing his senses, he nearly agreed to it. But his will to live drove him on, fighting against the lapping waves of comatose.

If you die, you'll never fulfill your promise, an inner voice whispered. You won't complete the vows you made. Live on, Rollen. Live for your family.

His eyes snapped open and he took in a lungful of air before coughing out blood. The pain was still there and but the darkness hovered at the back of his mind. He rolled his head to the side, searching for the attacker. He stood a few feet away. His hand waved over the air before him, shiny particles trailing in its wake. The glimmer settled and revealed a black platform. Atop it was an ebony slab of stone, its dark surface smooth. It hovered above the pedestal, bobbing up and down in lazy movements.  It was as long as his forearm with the width of his pinkie. Rollen's vision wavered for a moment before focusing once more.

The man held on to it and a brief flash of light flared to life before dying out. He stared at the object in his hands before tapping it twice. It glowed then disappeared. Rollen was too weak to wonder where it had vanished to. The thief turned to him for a moment and Rollen searched for his face, but it was still concealed under the hood.

Swiftly, the attacker spun on the balls of his heels and focused on the wall before him. Instantly the stone blew open with a loud bang. Large pieces fell outward to the courtyard with a crash while smaller shards flicked in every direction. Rollen curled into a ball to protect himself from the rock. Dust bloomed over the room. When the fall of pebbles subsided, Rollen peeked over his arm. The cloaked man strode for the gaping hole before leaping through it. Rollen's lips parted in bewilderment. The thought of the thief escaping gave him the strength to clamber shakily to his feet.

The world swayed around him and he staggered into the wall.  He held on to it till the spinning receded enough for him to move again. A stab of pain pierced his skull. Brushing his fingers over the area, he winced as they contacted the wound. The floor shifted again. His hand came away crimson. Rollen took a deep breath of dusty air and fought the aches. Determined to catch up to  the thief he limped painfully toward the door.

He leaned against the smooth black stone all the way down the steps. The swirling staircase made him dizzy and his stomach lurched with nausea. Finally at the bottom, he pushed away from the wall and staggered onto the bailey. The moon was partially hidden behind the clouds, shining the area in a hazy light. He moved around the dead men and tried to run after the thief. The action caused the world to spin rapidly and he retched violently.

Tears stung his eyes and his legs nearly gave way beneath him. Urging himself on, he shuffled a few paces ahead before he heard it. A loud gong filled the night, reverberating on the surrounding walls. The bell was hit again and again and again. The sound was agonizing, as if crushing his skull. The torment intensified tenfold and overcame his senses. He crumpled to the grassy expanse and clutched his head. A low moan scratched his throat and his muscles clenched.

The beat of footfalls against the ground made his head ache. Shouts and orders rang out in the air. He was vaguely aware of hazy figures around him before he gave in to the darkness.

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Questions: Who was that thief? And how did he get past the protective barriers?

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