Scrad waited in a back alley that had been designated for the meeting. His snipers were placed in strategic areas, so as to elimiate his contact should there be any sign of aggression. He assumed that his contact would be doing the same. He whipped around, sword in hand when he heard a sound coming from the shadows. At first he thought that he was hearing things, but then he heard a male voice, "Take three paces foreward, then turn left and walk into the wall."

"Why don't you just come out?" Scrad asked, "Are you wizards too afraid to face someone on equal grounds?"

"Yes," the voice said, "and if you want your information, you'll do as I say."

Scrad shrugged to himself more than any of his snipers watching his back. He wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and moved three paces forward. As he turned left, the voice sounded once more. "Cancel that order, Scrad, I'm meeting with you and only you." Scrad nodded and called off the sniper he had called in to cover him. He then walked up to the wall and warily moved to place his foot against it, only to find that his foot fell strait through and landed on a wooden stair that was about four inches lower than the level of the street. The sudden change in elevation almost caused him to trip and fall down the hidden staircase. "Damn wizards," he said before continuing on.

The staircase was long an narrow, the walls were barely close enough for his own wide frame, and the ceiling was just barely tall enough. He figured that it was some other trick of the wizards, but there was no way that he could be sure. There was no light, so each step Scrad took was careful and precise. When he finally approached the bottom, he could see a door just as narrow as the staircase itself half open. The light coming from that crack was enough to blind him for a moment. "I must have been down here longer than I thought..." He said to himself.

Scrad opened the door to find a small, yet cozy room lit by a warm fire in the far wall. In front of the fireplace stood two large chairs, each with high backs and grand armrests, all of which were covered in crimson velvet. In between these chairs was a simple wooden end table with a pot of tea and two cups resting on it.

Sitting in one of the chairs was a young woman who looked a few years shy of Scrad's age of twenty three. Her dark brown hair was tied back so as to stay out of her face. She was wearing casual black clothes made of what appeared to be silk. Her body frame was small yet fit, and her clothes seemed to glorify every part of it. The most distinctive part of her, however, was her eyes, which seemed to change colors between deep greens and blues as the light of the flame reflected off of them. Scrad knew that she was beautiful, but he also knew that she was a wizard, and he had a deep hatred for all wizards, no matter what age or gender. "Please, sit down, and have some tea if you'd like," she said as she filled a cup to the brim for herself.

Scrad moved over to the empty chair slowly, studying the girl as he moved, trying to figure her out, to see what she was planning. His next movements were almost too quick to follow. With a swipe of his sword, he took half of the back of the empty chair off. He then split the table in half and cut the top of the girl's chair clean off too, for she had ducked before Scrad had even made his way to the table. When he was finished with his work, the furniture had disappeared, and in their place were three bodies, two of which were decapitated, one was cut clean in half. They were wearing traditional red Wizard's robes, but Scrad couldn't help but feel that he recognized all three of them.

As Scrad cleaned the blood off of his sword, he heard the girl speak once more. "Impressive work," she said. Her voice was soft and made Scrad feel slightly less hatred, not only towards wizards, but to just about everything in general. He looked up from his sword and saw that she was smiling. It was a beautiful smile that fit her perfectly and lit up Scrad's soul. He felt suddenly as if he could trust her. After all, wizards didn't seem so bad.

"That is a fine blade." She stated. The words caused Scrad to look at his sword in a way he had not seen it in since he had first made it. He had begun to think of it more as a part of him than as a weapon. He saw it's slightly curved, one-edged blade that was a little bit shorter than his own arm. The metal had lost all of the luster it once had, now barely reflecting any recognizable images at all. The end of the hilt was curved in the opposite way that the sword was and the grip was covered in worn brown leather. It actually looked rather beat-up, and not impressive at all. He figured that the only reason why she had even commented on it was because of how sharp it was, for it had cut through her guards so easily.

He stared at the blade for a moment longer. He saw the distorted reflection of one of his hazel eyes in it and realized that he was falling for another wizard trick. Wizards almost never travel anywhere alone, he said to himself. The three I just killed were probably people that this girl... No, this woman had paid to stand in and act as her guards. Her real companion is probably somewhere else in here.

Scrad sheathed his sword before removing a hunting knife from his boot. He walked over to the woman who had nearly seduced him and placed the tip of the knife at her neck. "Wizards never travel alone," he said.

"But you-" the woman began. She was cut off by Scrad hurling the knife into the fire, tip first. The entire room melted away and Scrad found himself back in the alley with the woman. A man stood not far from them with Scrad's knife stuck to the hilt into his thigh. Around the group of three lay three of Scrad's snipers, slain by his own blade.

Scrad looked at the two wizards and made sure to take note of them, for the next time on the battle field, he would make sure to swiftly end their lives. The woman was no less beautiful than before, but instead of the black silks she had worn before, she wore a set of armor that was black as night and looked both constraining and roomy at the same time. She was covered from head to toe in it, and although there were no visible joints, the metal it was made of seemed to bend to compensate for any sort of movement she made. She wore a baldric over each shoulder that was a shade lighter than her armor. Scrad counted at least ten throwing daggers mounted on each baldric. Hanging from a belt at her waist were two sword hilts that Scrad would bet had the potential to have a blade of any size or shape that the woman desired.

She must be a Blade Sorcerer, Scrad said to himself. Blade Sorcerers were the wizards' soldiers, each one amazingly proficient with almost any form of weapon. They enchanted nearly every weapon that they used so that they could move faster and swifter than most non-magic folk could move. Other enchantments increased the power of the strike as well as the pain of the wound that it inflicted and sometimes even returned throwing daggers to the sheath that they came from.

The strongest of the Blade Sorcerers carried a sword like the ones that the woman in front of Scrad carried. The blades were made of liquid metal that was stored in the hilt that could be summoned fourth with a thought to form any sort of blade that one could think of. Such blades were said to adjust to their user and were sharp and strong enough to cut through literally anything. It was nearly unheard of for someone to carry one of these swords, so seeing two on one belt was enough to make Scrad check to make sure he was seeing right.

Her armor was a mystery to Scrad, for to his knowledge, Blade Sorcerers only held power over bladed weapons and sometimes blunt ones, never armor. Yet he supposed that if this woman was able to have two swords of liquid metal, she could probably enchant metal however she wished, not just weapons.

He then shifted his gaze to the other wizard. The instructions in the alley he had received had come from a male, so it made sense that the woman's accomplice was a man. The fact that Scrad had thought he had walked into a room deep underground when he never really left the alley led him to realize that this wizard had to be an Mind Bender, a master of illusions. Mind Benders rarely made appearances in public, and it was said that there were no more than a dozen of them in the City of Loak, City of Wizards. There was almost no limit to their powers, for they could literally read manipulate people's minds without even a second thought. This made Scrad wonder why the room had disappeared from a simple knife wound.

"Release any other illusions you may be holding over me, Mind Bender, or I will end this meeting," Scrad called out.

The man nodded and the bodies around Scrad and the woman disappeared and the man's looks changed entirely. He wore loose black pants made of a heavy material, perhaps a deer hide. His shirtless top half revealed a large, heavily muscled body covered from head to toe with tattoos. The tattoos were mostly just black lines, never thicker than half an inch that snaked their way into intricate patterns and covered as much skin as it left untouched. His eyes were just as black as the tattoos, as was his hair which was kept rather short. It was odd, for Scrad had never pictured a Mind Bender to look as the man did.

"So what is the important information you were contacting us about?" Scrad asked, making sure to cut right to the chase.

The woman spoke up. "Let us first introduce ourselves," she said, "just because or cities are at war does not mean that we can't make this meeting as friendly as possible. My name's Jira."

"If you want to be friendly, Jira why did you trick me into thinking I killed my own men? And I believe you already know my name." Scrad asked.

The Mind Bender stepped forward. "I'm sorry about that. We had to make sure that you had enough mental strength to see through a simple trick like that. We would not have wanted to deal with you otherwise," he explained in a deep voice that held a strange, outlandish accent. "I am called Xan. We are here, Scrad, because of your sword."

A puzzled look on Scrad's face caused Jira to elaborate on Xan's statement. "First off, where did you get it?" She asked.

"I made it four years ago when I finished my apprenticeship," he said, "why?"

"Well, it's just that we think that it may be something more than what you may think it is." Jira stated. "As you may know, the war that our cities are in is only one of many wars all over the world right now. What you may not know is that this time of war was foretold centuries ago by a prophet named Jamus L'uscuro, though today he is referred to simply as The Prophet, for in all of our history, only his prophecies and none other have shown to be truthful. Your sword may be a vital part of the prophecy."

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever had to sharpen your sword, Scrad?"

"Well, now that you mention it, I don't think I have. It's stayed pretty sharp since I made it. If anything it's gotten sharper, but the metal's gone cloudy and has almost no shine left to it, no matter how much I polish it. It looks like it'll break at any moment."

"That only further proves my point," Jira said, "You fashioned your blade out of common steel, did you not?" Jira waited for Scrad to nod before continuing. "That blade has unimaginable power locked inside of it, Scrad. Common steel just is not strong enough to hold that power for any long amount of time.

"The prophecy talked of a sword named Hellron, Mage's Bane. It was said that any enchantment or spell that the blade of the sword touched would be destroyed. Granted it would not destroy magical objects, but it would remove any enchantments that happened to be placed on them. In the prophecy, Hellron and it's brother sword called Maldolor, Sword of Pain, would bring an end to the war between our cities and mark the beginning of an age of peace. After our war is ended then soon others will come to conclusion until there is no more fighting. The bad part of the prophecy is that it states that after ten years, the two swords will begin a new age of war, far greater than the one we are in."

"So you want this prophecy come true?" Scrad inquired.

Jira nodded. "It must. These events has been foreseen by The Prophet, and so they will come to pass."

"Why not just kill me here and take the my sword for yourself?" Scrad cursed himself for bringing up that option. Then he remembered that the Xan would have known anyway and shrugged it off.

"The prophecy stated that a man who was not a wizard would wield Hellron, and that a wizard would wield Maldolor. That is how it must happen."

"One more question," Scrad said, "You said that Hellron could disable enchantments and spells. Is there anything special about Maldolor?"

Jira nodded grimly. "It is said that even a small wound from Maldolor's blade makes one feel as though their blood has been set on fire. That touching the blade alone causes excruciating pain greater than almost any enchantment that a Blade Sorcerer can put on a blade."

Scrad nodded. "So how do I make my blade strong enough to hold all this power?"

Jira's smile made Scrad realize that that was the question that she had been waiting for him to ask. She removed one of the sword hilts from her belt. "The two swords are both too powerful for any common metal such as steel to hold their power for very long. Scrad, do you know what makes liquid metal blades stronger than any other variety? It's because they essentially share their owner's soul. You see, they are made when an enchanted blade shatters the blade of a sword completely void of enchantments. The shards of the blade scatter, but eventually they all end up finding homes in the skin of the sword's owner. From there, the shards melt, and enter the swordsman's bloodstream. At this point, the swordsman must endure crippling pain as well as the greatest pleasure ever at once, and it becomes too much for most people's bodies to handle. Many die in the process of creating a liquid metal blade. But if the swordsman survives, they will have complete mastery of the sword as if it were just another limb. The blade will shape itself without a second thought, and it will be wielded with greater proficiency than the swordsman could hope for with a regular blade. Overall, a liquid metal blade is the ultimate weapon, but the ritual only works if both swordsmen will it to, so make sure you channel your desire into your blade."

As Jira finished, a long, thing blade appeared from the sword hilt she was holding. "Bring your sword to bear," she commanded. Scrad did as he was told and took up a defensive stance. Jira swung her sword at Scrad's midsection. It was an easily parried strike. As Scrad blocked the Blade Sorcerer's attack, his blade shattered. Jira's sword still made it's way through and cut through Scrad's leather shirt like it wasn't there, stopping at his chain mail vest underneath, which also shattered. "Shit," was all she could get out before the shards of Scrad's sword and armor were circling around him fast enough to make a loud whistling noise that probably would have woken up most of Loak if Xan was not putting all of his energy into making the city think that the three of them didn't exist.

Scrad stared at the shards moving around him in awe. He had never really looked at magic from a positive perspective, but now he was dumbstruck. He felt the first shard of metal from his sword pierce his skin, right below his left shoulder blade. It stung a bit, but for the most part he did not feel much. The next shard came at him about ten seconds later, and the third one five after that. They came faster and faster until there was not pause between contact. Finally, not a shard of metal revolved around Scrad, for it was all in his body.

Scrad was then seeing himself from Xan's eyes, and knew it must be one of the Mind Bender's tricks. He saw himself crouched over, his dirty blonde hair shrouding his face. His entire torso was covered in metal and shined in the moonlight. It looked as though he was made of metal from the waist up. The metal then began to ripple and look smooth and Scrad was seeing through his own eyes again.

As the last of the now liquid metal went under his skin, the feeling was just as Jira had said. Every limb of him tingled with a pleasure that had him laughing. He was also screaming, for at the same time he felt as though he had been set on fire before being placed in an iron maiden that had an electrical current running through the spikes. He fell to the ground and curled up into a fetal position as he felt his heart race faster than it ever had before. His breathing became quick as his body became drenched with cold sweat. His blood pounded in his ears as a red haze filled his vision just before little black dots began to dance in front of his eyes. He gasped for air, but his lungs seemed to be filled with cement. The dots grew until they almost filled his entire line of vision.

As suddenly as the pain and pleasure had started, it stopped. Scrad almost felt as if he had imagined it all. He stood back up and looked at his sword. All that remained was the hilt, but with a thought, a blade grew out that looked just the same as the original one, only this time it had a brilliant glow to it. Scrad saw his own drenched hair and his small beard, a darker shade of brown than his hair reflected in the blade. He also noticed that his eyes had changed from hazel to the same shifting blues and greens that Jira possessed.

He looked up at the two wizards. Jira was giving him a warm smile, but Xan seemed to be in some sort of a trance. His tattoos and eyes were both glowing with a bright blue hue. He then snapped back to attention. "It is done," he said, "no one noticed or heard us."

Jira nodded her approval. "Good." she said. "Scrad, I'm so sorry. That was twice as much as anyone has ever gone through at once. I hit your armor on accident. But on the plus side, you've got armor that's just as impenetrable as mine-"

Scrad cut her off with a wave of his hand. "What's done is done. Thank you, Jira. And thank you, Xan. I'll take my men and be gone from here."

"You need not worry about them. They left before you and Jira carried out the ritual. They believed that they had you with them." Scrad just chuckled when he imagined the look on his men's faces when they were half way to D'Arlandor and realized that he was not with them after all. "Thank you for realizing that not all of us Wizards are all that bad." Xan added.

"Did I say that out loud?" Scrad asked.

"No." Xan said, "And lets just say that I put it a bit more politely than you did too."

Scrad laughed and said good bye to the two wizard before turning to get his horse. "Wait," Jira said, causing Scrad to stop in his tracks and turn around. "I believe that this is yours." She produced Scrad's hunting knife out of what to be thin air. Scrad shook his head in disbelief and took the knife. He thanked Jira, then said good bye to the two wizards once more before he left.