“I never thought war would be such an awful reality until I stared into its grisly face. To die in battle is often referred to as a heroic act, but I will never understand that. What glory is there in bleeding to death in agony on the battlefield?
I have no intention of dying at the hands of my enemy.”
Vartan dismounted from Nymira and onto familiar grounds, drawing the night’s air into his lungs. Closing his eyes tight, he took in the air through his nose, hunting for the scent of blood. His eyes shot open and his heart pumped wildly when the vision’s memories flooded his mind. The blood, the writing, the bodies, the ropes-all sent cold shivers up his spine and turned his stomach.
“Vartan, I will hide myself outside and be ready at the first sign of trouble. All you need to do is to call for me and I will be right here,” said Nymira.
Vartan and Tusdar watched her slowly fade into the night as she mutated her scales and her footprints were all that were left behind.
Tusdar put a hand on Vartan's shoulder and whispered, “Do you want me to come in with you?”
“No, thank you, Tusdar,” replied Vartan, patting his companion's back. “This is my journey to make. Search the surrounding area, and yell for me if you find any survivors. Search quietly and carefully.”
“As you wish, Vartan,” said Tusdar, nodding. He watched as Tusdar began his search through the surrounding farmland, walking carefully with each step. Satisfied that Tusdar was busy with his task, he spun around to face the farmhouse.
Come on, Vartan, be strong, said Keturah reassuringly. I am right here with you, no matter what happens.
I need to be able to see, it’s far too dark tonight, thought Vartan.
He closed his eyes and whispered, “ Emitte lucem et veritatem. ”
His eyelids sparkled momentarily as the spell took effect. Today he was going to take no unnecessary chances, and he drew his sword into the night to lead his way. The shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the blade almost blinded his ensorcelled eyes and he shook his head to refocus his vision. Vartan stepped onto his family porch and almost tripped over the rocking chair that was lying on its side. A horse carving rolled off the chair and bumped against his feet. Vartan picked it up and raised it to his face. The memories of his bother playing with the carving when he was still human filled his heart with joy and he allowed himself a smile. “Ah Finn, how you always loved to play,” he mumbled to himself.
He placed his brother's carving back on the chair and steadied his nerves.
Things are different, thought Vartan. And if things are different, then maybe my vision was only a dream.
Vartan allowed himself a smile and approached the door carefully. As the door creaked open, the stench of blood suddenly overwhelmed his senses and stripped the smile from his face. Embers in the fireplace twinkled in his vision like diamonds, and a sense of deja vu smothered him.
Vartan frantically ran up the stairs, taking no notice of anything else around him until he stopped short of his parents’ bedroom door. He looked down reluctantly and noticed that a crude blood trail led into the room, under the door.
No! It can’t be true! he thought. I need to keep my senses sharp, and I can’t do that with this spell on my eyes.
“ Ex viso cantio dispellatur., ” whispered Vartan, and his view returned to darkness.
Only the light escaping from beneath the door and the dim red glow from the fireplace downstairs granted him sight. The sound of the blowing wind whistled from behind the door. It was then that the creaking of ropes reached his ears. Abandoning all hope, Vartan could only see red as his blood surged through his veins.
Please gods, no. Let it all have been a dream, thought Vartan.
Taking a step back, he booted the door open as hard as he could before charging into the room. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright moonlight through the broken window.
With his sudden entrance, Vartan had barely enough time to notice the silver blade coming at his neck. He dropped onto his back and slid forward on the dusty floor. As if time had slowed down, he watched as the shiny blade flew over his nose and Vartan felt the cold of its steel on his skin before his sliding body halted near the open window under a cloud of dust.
In the moonlight, Vartan could make out the grey skin of his mother lying dead on the floor. The usually light wooden planks were almost completely drenched in dried blood. Like a startled snake, Vartan turned sharply on his opponent, whom he could just make out. The figure appeared too large to be a woman and was wearing a heavy robe.
The rage took over his body when he noticed the hanging lump of flesh out of the corner of his eye. The blood dripped onto the floor and rivulets of it trickled into slowly expanding pools.
“Damn you!” screamed Vartan. “May the gods not have mercy on your soul!”
He ran at the figure in the darkness and stabbed at him with furious intensity. The man grunted as he barely dodged the attacks; Vartan’s sword met his own with a loud clash of metal. Vartan shouted and kicked the man’s chest with all of his might. As the force of the blow sent the man crashing through the wall and tumbling down the stairs, dust from the broken wall filled the room and made Vartan cough uncontrollably.
Like a man possessed, Vartan hurtled through the broken wall and down the stairs to see the man crawling towards the door in agony, spitting blood across the dirty floor. His sword lay idle by the fireplace, and Vartan snatched it hastily off the ground.
“Nobody skins my parents and lives to tell the tale, you filthy animal!” yelled Vartan.
With a smooth motion, he plunged the man’s own sword through his leg and pinned him in place. The man grunted in agony and his hands shook weakly. He spat more blood from his mouth. Vartan lifted his sword high in the air and aimed it at the man’s still-cowled neck. The man waved a hand with his remaining strength, as if he was trying desperately to gain Vartan’s attention.
“What could you possibly have to say for yourself before I run you through?” asked Vartan angrily.
Despite his leg, still impaled to the floor, the man managed to turn over to face Vartan, his quivering hand pathetically shielding him from Vartan’s sword.
Vartan, is that who I think it is? asked Keturah.
Vartan dropped to his knees by the man and was overwhelmed with grief. Tears clouded his vision.
“No! What have I done?” he screamed at the top of his lungs. He buried his face in his hands in anguish.
Vartan thought back to the vision and realised that he had ignored something. He raised his head and turned to the message written with blood on the wall.
How does it feel to have killed your own father? Now who is the pathetic one, young knight? Lots of love, Kassina.
“No!” screamed Vartan, turning to his father who wheezed on the floor. Vartan crawled over to him desperately and felt Nymira’s presence through the open doorway.
By the gods, Vartan, is that your father? she asked.
“Nymira, you have to help him,” pleaded Vartan. “Is there anything you can do?”
He opened his father’s mouth to see that his tongue had been roughly cut out. Fresh blood still oozed from the wound.
“That damned witch Kassina-what has she done to you?” cried Vartan.
I’m sorry, Vartan, said Nymira, but I cannot take him to a healer in time to save him from a human’s death. However, this will not be the end for him. He will be born again as a dragon, as will your mother. Nothing on this planet can save him. Where is your mother?
Leon grunted again as he grabbed Vartan’s sword, placed the hilt into Vartan’s hands, and nodded with tears in his eyes, collapsing his head on the floor. Vartan stepped back in defiance.
“No, I will not kill my own father. I will not fail my entire family. Not today, not ever,” he cried.
Vartan, do you have any other artefacts aside from me? asked Keturah.
Vartan turned to Nymira as the realisation sank in.
“You said that nothing on this planet will save my father. What if something from another planet will?” he asked.
Vartan quickly threw his pack to the floor and rummaged through for the objects he obtained from She’Ma’Ryn. As he searched his pack, Vartan found the source of a faint pink glow and when he pulled the glowing object out, he held the golden egg. He smiled as hope now spurred him on.
You cannot heal your father while he has a sword stuck in his leg. It has to be removed, and you will need to act quickly, said Keturah.
“Father, I need you to prepare for me to remove the sword. I am so sorry, I had no idea it was you,” said Vartan.
Leon nodded in agreement and he closed his eyes tight to brace himself for the pain. Vartan grabbed hold of the hilt with both hands and held down the leg with his knee to stop his father from moving unnecessarily. He carefully eased out the sword. Fresh blood spurted into the air and all over his body. Leon groaned with the burning white pain as he clutched at the wound.
Vartan panicked at the sight of the blood, staring with vacant wide eyes.
Now focus! said Keturah. The artefact you hold is called an Egg of Life. I have seen these in our world’s equivalent of your City of Wonders. It is incredibly rare and immensely powerful. You need to carefully twist it open and be sure to get every drop into him.
Vartan lifted the egg to his face and gently turned the two halves until they clicked. As carefully as he could, Vartan pulled the halves apart. There was a slight hiss and the scent of a desert rose filled the air. There was a sparkling pink liquid within the egg. Vartan balanced it precariously in his hands, battling with his nerves to stop it from spilling uselessly to the ground.
“I need you to swallow all of this. I know your mouth must be painful right now, but it is the only way,” whispered Vartan.
Vartan used his free arm to help raise his father’s head, and Leon sipped the pink liquid into his mouth and swallowed. Twitches of sharp pain passed across his eyes and he clenched his fists. It only took a few moments for the magic to start its work. Leon’s body began to glow pink, increasing in intensity until Vartan couldn’t bear to look at him. The light was almost blindingly bright.
The room filled with a high pitched ringing sound that grew in intensity until Vartan had to cover his ears to block it out.
The light slowly dimmed, and Vartan turned to look at his revived father. Leon was already standing up straight, breathing deep with his sword in hand. He had discarded his heavy robe and stood before Vartan in his slightly torn clothes, the fury in his heart pumping through his veins. He reached into his mouth and found that his tongue had also regenerated and he was once again able to speak.
Smiling with pride, Leon strode over to give his son a rough but warm hug.
“Thank you, Vartan,” said Leon. “That cowardly bitch Kassina and her vampire assassins ambushed the house while we were sleeping; they imprisoned us after taking Greenhaven. By the gods, whatever was in that strange egg has returned all of my strength to me!” He flexed his muscles in wonderment. He swung his sword into the wall with the crudely written blood message with such force that the blade stuck, leaving the hilt wobbling in the air.
“That wench skinned your mother, while the vamps forced my eyes open to watch before they cut my tongue out. I can still hear her screams… how I long for the day to return that favour,” growled Leon, his face full of horror. He turned back to Vartan. “Then they left me here alive and told me that if I were ever to leave the rotting bedroom, the assassins would be waiting for me and turn me into one of those vile creatures. I thought you were one of them when you burst into the room. I managed to find my sword that I had hidden away in case anyone broke in, after they had left. I thought about jumping out the window, but I would have broken my legs."
His face paled as it dawned on him that he had fallen into a trap, and he ripped his sword out from the wall hastily.
“Vartan, the assassins are likely still out there and probably waiting to ambush us. Is there anyone else with you?”
“Nymira?” asked Vartan, as the Dragon Queen slowly shifted her scales back to show herself.
Leon stared at her in surprise and then immediately bowed down to greet his queen.
“My goodness, get off the ground, you silly fool, and prepare yourself for battle!”
“Yes, my Queen,” replied Leon, abruptly returning to his feet as his face reddened.
A panicked scream escaped the fields outside, and was quickly muffled.
“Oh no — that was Tusdar!” growled Vartan.
Vartan and Leon stealthily approached the farmhouse windows, peering out to see if they could locate Tusdar. Nymira pulled her head out from the doorway and looked around to scan the many fields around them.
Standing in a circle around them were at least two dozen vampire assassins, leering in the moonlight, their black clothes flapping in the wind. One of them wore red jewels on a gold necklace and stood closest to the house with Tusdar held in a tight armlock, a sharp silver dagger held to his neck. Its tip pierced Tusdar’s skin and drew tiny droplets of blood.
Take down their leader first, and the rest will crumble, thought Vartan as they stepped out of the farmhouse, studying the positions of the awaiting vampires.
A growling voice echoed into the night. “I am Arane, and I command the entire vampire army. I will make this simple for you. Lay down your weapons and hand over your dragon to our control and none of you have to die.”
“Commander of the vampire army, you say?” said Vartan. “Aren’t you under Shindar’s command? And I would hardly call this little gathering an army. The dragon — not my dragon — is free from capture and does not bend to anyone’s will. As for letting us all live, I would love to believe you, but history has shown that vampires are not to be trusted.”
Vartan's body twisted as he snapped out his arm, releasing a small dagger, and formed the shape of a claw with his other hand. He cast a spell under his breath, “ Impendo quod queritor. ”
The dagger split open in mid-air, transforming into four razor-sharp steel claws that mimicked his own fingers, and embedded themselves around Arane’s pale neck.
Vartan grinned as he shouted. “Let Tusdar go, or I’ll close my fist and turn you into dust to fertilise the plants."
Arane snickered as he narrowed his eyes. “You stupid fool! This isn’t a fable and we don’t negotiate! You had your chance, and I will not give you the courtesy of another." He slid his blade across Tusdar’s neck and dropped his body to the cold ground. Tusdar clutched at his open flesh as he choked loudly on his own steaming hot blood.
“No! Tusdar! Arane, you son of a bitch!” growled Vartan.
He closed his fist tightly and his enchanted weapon cut through Arane’s neck. The vampire’s body disintegrated into dust.. Vartan and Leon charged forward furiously with their weapons drawn high. Nymira quickly extended her tail and sliced through the necks of three more assassins in one smooth motion. She snapped her head up and unleashed dragon's breath that engulfed a handful of vampires who had leapt from the roof. Vartan jumped off a pile of hay and brought his sword down to crash through an assassin, slicing its body cleanly in half. The two halves of the vampire’s flesh and bones fell to the ground with a thud before turning into dust. Leon and Vartan turned together with their swords ready to face the remainder of the attackers.
"You sure have grown, my boy!" Leon laughed.
With a gust of wind past their faces, Nymira’s immense body landed behind the vampires. She narrowed her eyes and blew jets of fire into the sky as a warning to the rest of them. Four vampire assassins stood side by side on the roof, unsure of what to do next. They looked at one another, mumbled something out of earshot and nodded. One of them brought a horn to his lips and blew hard, sending a grumbling sound through the forest.
At first, there was no response. Then, one after another, they heard the shrieks echoing from the forest build until they were almost a unified, deafening noise. Hundreds of vampires ran from the surrounding forest and covered the farm like ants, blazing their way towards them at inhuman speed.
“By the gods, son-the entire vampire army is upon us!” cried Leon, nervously swinging his sword and turning in all directions.
Vartan looked up to see a cloud of assassins’ daggers spinning towards them and barely had time to consider his next move.
Peter Koevari
Legends of Marithia: Book 1 — Prophecies Awakening: Uncut and Exte nded Second Edition
Chapter 16: A Time to Live, A Time to Die
“What have I done with my whole life? I’ve spent countless years wasting it away with drink and thievery. I think it’s time that I do something worthwhile. What is the good of jewels and treasure when our whole world is covered in darkness?
It is time for me to take a stand and show everybody that I am more than a thief.”
(Tusdar, Master Thief of Greenhaven)
Trisa tucked her hair behind her ears, retrieved a pungent dark green herb from her pack, and gently rubbed it under Helenia’s nose.
“We cannot thank you enough, Trisa,” said Andrielle. “In times like this, an elven healer is indeed difficult to find. We needed all the warriors we could get, so all the healers we have are being trained for war. Perhaps I should reconsider that strategy.”
“I am glad to be of service to you, my new Queen. Thank you for allowing me entry and safety within the walls of Veldrenn. Mind you, I am a bit unsure of my safety here right now.”
Bang…
"I agree with you,” replied Andrielle. “I only wish we had more time to prepare."
Another rumble ran through the ground and rattled the plates and furniture within the house. Helenia stirred to life and turned to stare with clouded eyes at her worried mother seated beside her. Trisa brought a specially brewed steaming cup of tea to the princess’s lips and gestured for her to take it.
“Please, drink up, Princess Helenia,” said Trisa. “This will return your energy. The quickened healing process drained most of your body’s reserves. Mind you, I’ll be honest and tell you that there was not much there to begin with. You might want to save the use of magic for an absolute emergency, or until you learn to master the use of it. Otherwise, it may just be the death of you.”
Helenia drank the tea slowly, rubbing her head with her other hand.
Bang…
Another loud rumble almost sent the tea flying out of her grasp.
“What is that? Are we safe here?” asked Helenia, her voice breaking in panic.
Andrielle clenched her fists and spoke through hardened lips. “Unfortunately, none of us are safe here anymore, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to just sit still in here and wait for any of us to be killed by that foul excuse of a woman, Kassina."
She marched toward her door and yelled, “General Faowind!”
The door almost immediately burst open, and for the first time Helenia laid her eyes on the awaiting elven and human joint army in formation outside of their door.
“Oh my goodness, we are actually ready for war!” exclaimed Helenia.
Faowind bowed. “Your orders, my Queen?”
“General Faowind, are our forces prepared to move out?”
Faowind beamed with pride. “Of course they are, my Queen. Archers are ready with plenty of arrows, our soldiers with the burst shooters are ready, and our knights will accompany us in battle on horseback."
Bang…
A rather large rumble sent dust flying through the room. Helenia returned to her feet and snatched her sword from beside her bed, readying it by her side.
“We have very little time now, Faowind,” said Andrielle, “and I want you to help me with my armour. Are our horses readied?”
Faowind responded as he entered the room dragging a heavy cart covered in a royal silk blanket. “The horses are armoured and waiting outside, and Your Highness’s royal battle armour and cleaned sword are already here.” Faowind started to pull out Andrielle’s armour and quickly dressed his queen, taking care with each piece.
Trisa approached Andrielle with soft steps. She bowed and asked softly, “Great Queen, I may be a healer by trade, but I would serve you well on the battlefield and am handy with any weapon. Please allow me the great honour to ride with you into battle, and I will tend to you and your party in the event that you are wounded."
Andrielle only blinked before answering, “Your request is granted, Trisa. We need all the help we can get. Faowind will bring you one of our few reserve horses and a spare sword. However, we are well and truly out of armour, so I would suggest avoiding battle as much as possible."
Bang…
Another rumble knocked over the cart of royal armour. Helenia helped Faowind lift the cart off the ground and growled, "I can't wait to put a blade through that bitch."
Faowind smiled. “You may just get that chance. They are getting closer."
He gently slid Andrielle’s helm over her head, covering and protecting most of her face, save her eyes. She turned her attention to Helenia and was quite a sight to behold, even for her daughter. The royal battle armour was the prized possession of any elven royal who was privileged enough to wear it. Helenia would inherit her mother’s armour upon her ascension to the throne, but had specially made armour of her own to tide her over. The queen’s armour shone gloriously, and was set with jewels imbued with magical power that she could tap into during battle. Her helm connected to golden scales that draped over her shoulders, and the face of a dragon was carved into the shiny metal of her face plate.
“Faowind, if you would please fit my reserve helm onto Helenia?” she asked with a knowing smile.
Helenia suddenly realised that she would finally have her wish granted. Faowind stood close behind her and slid the heavy helm over her head. Andrielle’s reserve helm was identical to her first, but bore the carved face of a hawk.
Helenia stuttered as her face paled. “Thank you, mother. I–I will not let you down."
“I know you wouldn't. But you will stay close to either myself or Faowind. Nothing is for certain when we reach the battlefield. You have to be prepared for anything. Is that clear?” said Andrielle, raising her sword.
“Of course, as clear as crystal waters,” replied Helenia.
Faowind pulled a slightly beaten sword from the cart and handed it to Trisa. They all joined their queen in raising their swords together.
Bang…
Another rumble sent plates crashing to the ground and shattered into tiny pieces. They all swayed with the force of the impact.
Andrielle spoke again. “In the touching of our swords, we become as one. This is our first and last stand. We have nowhere else to run and we will no longer hide. Our forces will combine our strengths and we will win this day on the battlefield, or die trying. Let us touch swords now.”
In a circle, they touched their swords at the tips, the ceiling of the house lighting up with reflections of forged metal.
Andrielle's voice was firm as she continued. “Victory will be had, or death shall be embraced. For all that is pure!”
“For all that is pure!” they chanted.
They sheathed their swords in unison and took a moment to look each other in the eyes. Fear was overtaken by necessity, and necessity finally turned into determination.
“We all know what we have to do, so let’s go and get it done,” said Andrielle with a nod.
They walked out the door together and made their way to their waiting horses. Andrielle’s army was quite a sight to behold, and covered the majority of the city’s grounds. Mounted on horseback, Andrielle, Helenia and Faowind approached the front ranks of their awaiting men and women. The Knights of the Elves made their way behind their queen.
Some of the army’s soldiers were barely in their teens, yet they held swords and other weapons in their growing hands with the same confidence as their elders. Andrielle lifted her face guard to greet her people face to face.
“The great and honourable Elven Queen, Andrielle!” cried Faowind.
The army responded as one, moving to an attentive stance and speaking with an almost deafening unified voice.
“For the queen!” they screamed, stomping their feet into the ground and banging their swords against their shields.
Bang…
A burning tree tore through the canopy, crashing into a now-empty barracks and setting it alight as if it were a wick for a candle. Unaffected by the interruption, Andrielle addressed her waiting army.
“I welcome all of you, brave souls. Some of you have come from faraway lands to join our fight here today, to join the most important fight of our lifetime. We stand here together, unified against the darkness that shadows over us. We stand here to say that we will live in fear no longer! Today, you will not bow to me as your queen, and I ask for no favouritism. On this day, we will shed blood together, standing shoulder to shoulder. And on this day, we shall be triumphant as equals!” said Andrielle.
The mass of soldiers smashed their shields into the ground, while still holding their disciplined stance. Andrielle spun her horse around and faced the direction from which the burning trees were thrown — Kassina’s direction. She turned her face back to her army and continued.
“Kassina and the Dark Army would love for us all to cower in fear until they can pick us off and destroy us all. Our allies, the dragons, have already begun the battle, and we will help them to win the war! We will not bow to her dark wishes. We will take the fight right to that heartless wench’s lips and tell her, as her armies fall to the ground around her, that we are unafraid!"
Andrielle’s army began a rhythmic beat with their weapons and shields, their hearts racing with adrenaline. Andrielle drew her sword, and slammed her face guard into place with its hilt. She pointed forward through the trees that began to part and open a path for the army to enter.
“Onward to victory!” she screamed.
“To victory!” they all began to chant.
The ground trembled with the movement of Andrielle’s army as they began their march towards Kassina’s waiting Forces of Darkness.
Black clouds billowed into the sky and the stench of smoke stained the crisp night air. Flashes from the battle lit up the tear-streaked faces of sniffling children as the mothers who were either too weak to fight, or needed for the safekeeping of the survivors, made their way toward the glow and skyward beam of She’Ma’Ryn, far from the Battle of the Elven Woods. The women carried heavy packs on their backs with supplies and materials for making shelter. A handful of elven warriors accompanied the survivors for protection.
A woman managed a smile as she addressed the large crowd of children. “Come now, we are under the queen’s orders and we will be safe in the woods.”
The children nodded as they held their heads low and continued the long walk without complaint. “Remember, we have the dragons on our side now,” the woman continued. “And when the battle is won, we will return to Veldrenn to rebuild and celebrate.”