Legend Warrior

by Liara Woo

  Halthren nodded, accepting the information. "Thank you, my Queen," he said, bowing his head again.

  "Two more things," she said, gently lifting his chin. "First, when you go to the Dream Kingdom, you will appear to be asleep to those in Allagandria, while you are awake in the other world. Remember; if you die in the Dream Kingdom you will also die in this world, so be careful. The people in the Realm are constructions of Nashgor's mind. The good ones will help you but will be cruelly punished to make you feel guilty. The others will seek to harm you. Do not hesitate to fight them because they are not real.

  "Second, you do not have a weapon, but you will need one." She waved her hands and a gleaming white sword appeared in her hands. "This blade is enchanted with the magic of the Great Elves. In it is forged our protection of you. As long as your heart is pure, as I do not doubt it is, you will find that this sword will always serve you well. If you concentrate hard enough, it may even glow, but only when it is held in your hands."

  "Wh-why?" Halthren asked nervously.

  "Because you believe in the Light of the Great Elves more than anyone else." She gave him a very solemn look. "That belief increases our power. Again, Halthren Legendheart, you were chosen by the stars to bring to pass the destruction of evil. You sent Joran to get Katie. You have studied the legends; you knew that she was necessary for Nashgor's demise. And you will yet do much more for the Light. That is why we protect you. In preserving your life we are doing our part in this war." She handed the sword in its glittering white sheath to him, and he took it gratefully.

  Kylaras smiled. "When you wield this blade, you will be a force to be reckoned with—even in the Dream Kingdom, for it will come with you to that world. Do not fear losing it; after a few hours it will appear at your side once more. But if it is broken, then not only does the blade no longer appear at your side, the stars will no longer be able to protect you, and the silver will fade from your eyes."

  Halthren was speechless, and for many reasons. After all, it wasn't every day that he was given a magical sword. And he'd never imagined that the nickname teasingly bestowed upon him by the children of his past, the name of Legendheart, would mark him as… as chosen by the stars. And being given the knowledge that if his sword broke, he could be killed by Darkness...

  "One final word of warning," Kylaras continued. "As you know, the Great Elves have the power of foresight—and I am no exception. I will not tell you your fate, but I will say this: an Earthling can override the protection of the stars to kill you. If someone decided to take the rest of your Light before you have restored it, do not struggle. If they succeed, make sure to get to the Dream Kingdom before you die. There you must hurry and bring Joran out; you will have only three hours."

  Halthren felt a sick, nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. A painful sense of betrayal settled into his chest. "Are you telling me because Katie is going to take the rest of my Light? And…and kill me?"

  Kylaras smiled. "Not necessarily," she whispered. "Now… listen closely." Leaning forward, she spoke softly into his ear of many Dark and magical secrets that would help in the war against Nashgor. When she had finished, she murmured, "Farewell, Legendheart." Then she vanished with a blinding flash of whiteness so bright that Halthren stumbled backwards; unbalanced, he fell back to the sand.

  That was incredible, he thought.

  He looked at the weapon at his side. "I'm coming, Joran," he whispered, and it was his love for the prince, for his brother in all but blood, that took him to the Dream Kingdom for the first time.

  On the Shores of Dralantia

  On the Shores of Dralantia

  Katie looked back in horror at the roc as it swiftly flew away, easily navigating the ferocious winds of the storm. "We have to go back!" she exclaimed. "He's going to get eaten!"

  And it was as Loriina banked to fly back that a terrible, drawn-out scream rent the air, the sound of someone suffering unimaginable agony. Suddenly it was cut short. Loriina hovered over the ocean, her jaws agape in shcok; Katie simply stared in horror in the direction the roc had flown. She felt an aching sense of loss; a hollowness that began in her stomach and slowly spread.

  "Dead," Relenthus said in a solemn voice. "There is nothing we can do."

  Katie changed the direction of the wind to blow east again, and Loriina continued flying, her head drooping even more now. Katie's head was also bowed, and her tears mixed with the rain on her face. During the past week or so she felt as if she had gotten to know Halthren so well…and now he was gone. Gone forever.

  She thought of, only minutes ago, his firm arms wrapped around her, comforting her after rescuing her from the ocean. She could still feel his strong, lean back beneath her hands as she clung to him; still remember the encouraging words whispered into her ear.

  How could this have happened so fast?

  She'd never felt this before. It was terrifying, that someone alive and moving and warm could be taken so quickly. There hadn't even been time for farewells.

  A wave of guilt washed over her, as powerful as the veritable mountains of water that had driven her so far beneath the ocean. I'm no better than that roc, she thought miserably. I killed all of those demons. I took them away; I ended their lives.

  I'm an awful person. I hate myself.

  Only a few miserable moments later, there was a low rumble of thunder and the clouds vanished. The wind dropped abruptly for a moment before swiftly picking up again, stronger than before. Katie could feel no resistance; when she lowered her arm the wind continued blowing in a favorable direction. She held onto Loriina's back with both hands now, and looked at the shimmering stars above, crystals set into a dark blue wall. Tears filled her eyes again. I wonder if Halthren's up there tonight.

  "I see an island!" Loriina exclaimed. "Don't you see it?"

  Katie craned her neck and saw a dark blur on the horizon that was steadily drawing closer.

  "Yes, I see it," Relenthus responded. "How fortunate that the enchanted storm stopped. I've never imagined that to be possible. I wonder…if Halthren would have had an explanation."

  "He would," Katie murmured. "He knows…knew… everything about magic, and legends, and mythology…"

  Loriina flew onwards, and soon it became apparent that the island was surrounded by black fog that stunk of rotting things. "What happened here?" Katie asked, intrigued. She felt strangely drawn to the place.

  "I don't know, but it feels Dark," Relenthus said, a note of fear entering his voice.

  "I don't care," Loriina growled. "It's land, so it's good enough for me."

  Katie nodded sympathetically; if she'd had to fly all day long she'd be just as grumpy and just as eager for any land, even if it meant that Relenthus would suffer.

  The evil side of her began to rise. What will the fog do to him? she wondered cruelly. Will it actually kill him? Will he scream?

  "Wait," Relenthus desperately protested, but Loriina dived into the Darkness and he gasped in pain, clutching his chest. "S-stop," he wheezed in a choked voice. "It hurts!"

  "It's land!" Loriina exclaimed in relief as a slab of black rock came into view. She dropped to the ground and gently shook her passengers to the ground before collapsing, sound asleep in an instant. Katie got to her feet, feeling optimistic. It was good to go here. She really needed a break.

  Relenthus was breathing heavily, leaning against the dragon's side. Sweat ran down his face, soaking his tunic front. "This…is pure…evil," he panted. "Please, take me out of here!" Another cloud of Darkness washed over him, and he fell to the ground, his eyes closed tightly and his teeth clenched. As more evilness surrounded him, he shrieked in anguish, his hands tearing at the front of his tunic so hard that he ripped it open. He placed his hands over his heart, clutching and clawing at his skin. Katie looked at him, feeling her Dark side grow even stronger. She laughed cruelly; deep within herself she was mortified. What's happening to me?!

  Relenthus's breaths were growing more and more ragged. Trembling, h
e coughed, and there was blood on his lips. Moaning and thrashing in agony, he fell onto his back, unable to keep himself in a sitting position. His face was pale, and his sky blue eyes were wide with panic. "Please," he managed to gasp. "Katie… it's…killing…me…"

  Loriina was deep in slumber; she didn't hear his words. Katie met Relenthus's desperate, frantic gaze, full of pain greater than she could ever comprehend, and her true self came back. "I'm sorry, Relenthus!" she exclaimed. "I'll try to help!"

  The only problem was… how?

  She paced the stone slab, thinking hard. I need to get rid of this black fog. The question is, how do you get fog to move away?

  The wind had died down, and the air was stiff and unmoving. Relenthus was swiftly growing weaker as he writhed in pain, his heart-wrenching cries reduced to barely audible whimpers, and then to nothing. The Darkness was incredibly powerful; more so than mere demons. Relenthus was no longer breathing, and he lay shivering on the ground.

  A soft breeze touched Katie's face, and in that instant it came to her: Wind! She whipped her hand toward the south, concentrating on the magic of her Stone and sending it out through her fingertips. A fierce wind began to blow, forcing the Dark fog to drift away. Katie raced to Relenthus's side.

  "Wake up," she pleaded. "Wake up! Come on, Relenthus! Wake up!" Remembering when she'd had to help Joran regain consciousness, she bent down and gently kissed his lips. His body tensed and he gasped for breath, his chest heaving. His eyes flickered open, out of focus at first. Then he blinked, and his face was full of fear and pain. There were actual tears on his bleached, colorless cheeks.

  "Y…your face…" Relenthus murmured huskily. "You looked…l-like you…enjoyed…seeing that…"

  "I didn't," Katie said desperately. "I'm so sorry I didn't act sooner…will you be alright?" She helped him into a sitting position, horrified at how cold his skin and clothing had become. It was as if he'd been encased in ice for a while.

  "Y…yes," he said, still in a hoarse voice. "But I fear for you, Katie." Coughing violently and still shivering, he wrapped his cloak tighter around his trembling shoulders and pulled his legs to his chest, his arms around his shins and his head resting on his knees. Katie cringed inwardly as she wandered a few feet away, gazing up at the stars. What if I hadn't felt compassion in time? What if…what if he had…died? Because of me? Killing demons that I don't even know is horrible. Killing an elf, a friend, is so much worse.

  What have I become?

  * * *

  Halthren opened his eyes. Again, sunlight was shining into them, and the bright rays felt like spears. He rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself onto his knees, rubbing his aching forehead. He still felt weak and his limbs were sore, but he could feel his strength returning.

  He stood up and took in his surroundings. There were clouds in the sky, but they were far and distant on the horizon. A long, winding dirt road sat beneath his feet, and on either side of it were wide yellow fields bordered by short, squat trees. In front of him, not very far away, was a city enclosed by a tall fence made of tree trunks sharpened to a point. Instinctively Halthren knew that Joran was in there somewhere, so he walked towards the village, his feet hardly making a sound on the dirt path.

  The gate into town was guarded by a short man with a scruffy beard. "Elves ain't allowed inside the city," he growled in a rough voice.

  "I must pass," Halthren said, his eyes narrowed. "I have to warn you; I have been trained in combat and will not hesitate to render you unconscious if you refuse to let me enter." He did not want to sound cruel, but every moment that passed could be a moment that Joran was in fatal danger. And besides, the people here weren't even real.

  The gatekeeper scowled. "Look; I'm normally a friendly man. But I obey the law. Either you leave, or else I turn you over to the Mayor of the village, Mr. Thampson."

  Suddenly Halthren had an idea. "That would be great. Can you really take me to him?"

  The man eyed him curiously. "You have strange desires," he commented. "I trust you understand that I can't run the risk of you escaping. Hold out your wrists." He dug some thick rope from within a pocket.

  Halthren eyed him suspiciously, knowing that as soon as his hands were tied he'd be basically defenseless. "Fine." He held out his hands, and the gatekeeper bound his wrists tightly together before pulling him forward and into the city. This is certainly not the way I would have preferred to enter this place…but at least I'm reaching my destination.

  The man led him down several cobblestone streets surrounded on both sides by small wooden houses with thatched roofs and barred windows. The people milling about in the road were either humans or dwarves, and they cast him mistrustful glances. One or two even threw stones at him. Not a friendly group, Halthren judged.

  Eventually they arrived at a building taller and grander than the rest; gold lined the window frames and a lovely, rich golden wood formed the walls. The roof was shingled instead of thatched, with shiny dark tiles. Shaped hedges lined the path to the dark oaken door. Halthren guessed that it was probably the construction of this building that had led to the obvious poverty of the people.

  "I, Frank Hughes, am here to see the Mayor of Soor," the man escorting him proclaimed to the two armored guards at the door. He gestured to Halthren and their gazes switched to him as they took in his pointed ears and long hair. Without a word the men let the gatekeeper take him in.

  Halthren was led through a long, narrow hall lined with tall portraits of the same person in different poses. He raised an eyebrow. Apparently this Mr. Thampson is rather vain, he thought, disgusted.

  After climbing up a flight of stairs and walking through another confining hall, they arrived in a small circular room with a desk, behind which sat a tall man with an arrogant face and dark black hair. His eyes were brown, and his skin was weathered. He was probably in his mid-forties and looked a good deal less attractive than his portraits.

  "Well done," Thampson appraised. "Leave me, Mr. Hughes. I can deal with this scum on my own."

  The gatekeeper left the room, and Halthren was in no way obliged to escape. "I'm looking for my friend," he explained coldly. "I have a feeling that he's here in this impoverished settlement."

  The man's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't insult my life's work. By a friend, you mean another elf like yourself; is that correct?"

  Halthren nodded. "I am willing to exchange anything to see him set free. I am also willing to fight you and anyone else holding him captive." He gave the man an icy stare, but much to his surprise Thampson only laughed.

  "You have spirit; I'll grant you that. I know exactly of whom you speak; an elf shorter than you, with lighter hair and greener eyes without that silver in them. My good friend McCullough, an elf-trapper, has him at the moment. But I believe we can set him free, if you do as we ask."

  "And what is that?" Halthren asked coolly.

  "There is a man by the name of Venthain. He is the strongest man in all of Soor…and he has also lost his farm. As is our custom, if he kills an opponent in single-combat, then he gets his land back. If you will agree to fight, your friend will be set free. If you win, your friend will be honored, but you will be sentenced to a life of slavery."

  Halthren swallowed nervously. This was not at all to his liking. But if it gets Joran free it will be worth it…and before I am killed or enslaved, I can return to Allagandria. "I agree to your terms," he responded, trying to mask the quaver in his voice. There was something in Thampson's eyes that unsettled him.

  "Guards," Thampson called, raising his voice, and two bulky men dressed in armor entered the room. Halthren backed against the wall apprehensively, looking at the men with wary eyes.

  "Would you like something to drink?" Thampson asked innocently, raising a glass of water.

  "Thank you," Halthren said nervously, and since his mouth was still painfully dry he took the glass in his bound hands and raised it to his lips. He drank deeply, relishing the coolness of the water as it trickled
down his throat, and set the glass back down on Thampson's desk. Almost instantly he stumbled, his legs no longer strong enough to support him. The floor tilted violently beneath him, and voices echoed in his mind, and colors and shapes blurred into one another. Halthren blinked, his eyes widening as he tried to make sense of what was happening. I've been poisoned, he thought sluggishly. "What are you doing to me?" he asked in a slurred voice. His head was spinning.

  Thampson laughed. "I am putting you in a state that will allow us to transport you easily. Travis, Martin, restrain him."

  The guards advanced with shackles and chains in their hands. Halthren was unable to resist as they tightly wrapped him in chains from head to toe. The shackles pinched his flesh tightly, especially where his tunic had ripped and they pressed against his bare skin, and they constricted his lungs. They wrapped one final chain around his neck and jerked it upwards. Halthren's mouth gaped as he tried to breathe. The chain was too tight. The guards were laughing. Thampson was smiling. Suddenly the pressure was taken off of the chain, and Halthren gasped, his breath rattling in his bruised windpipe.