The bandit became incensed. “Under the authority of my sword!” he exclaimed, yanking the blade from its hilt. The sharp steel rang through the night forest. The Legionarie remained aloof and disinterested.
The bandit slowly pointed the blade tip at the Legionarie, resting it against his shoulder. “Have I got your attention now, soldier?” he asked.
“Gothen!”
The bandit was startled by the shout of his name. Turning his head, he saw his archers all being held at sword point by Legionaries. Their hands and weapons were raised high in the air. He had no idea where these other Legionaries came from, or how they’d gotten the drop on his men. As Gothen turned his attention back to his target, their eyes met for the first time.
The Legionarie’s dark eyes were wide and menacing, peering from a gruff, bearded face. Silence fell over the camp. Only the crackling of the campfire could be heard. The bandit was unsure how he lost the advantage, or if he ever possessed it.
The Legionarie smacked the sword blade from his shoulder and slowly rose to his feet. Gothen was taken aback by the man’s staggering height and mass. This hairy beast was not the weak old soldier he intended to rob. Accepting the situation, being outmanned and outmatched, Gothen surrendered his sword to the Legionarie without being asked.
“I am General Thane,” the Legionarie said, snatching Gothen’s sword from his outstretched palms. Thane examined the metal specimen. “This is an excellent sword,” he stated, twirling it in his hands. “The handle balances the weight of the blade quite nicely. Your generous donation to the Warlord’s Legion is well appreciated. But our cause is great and requires much support.”
He flipped the sword to point at Gothen. “Empty your pockets.”
The bandit complied, as did his accomplices. As he dropped items upon the ground, something caught Thane’s eye.
“Stop!” he shouted. Gothen instantly froze.
“Pick that up,” Thane commanded, pointing to a metal device. The bandit, without breaking eye contact with Thane, slowly bent down and grabbed the object. He placed it in the General’s massive hand. Thane looked as if he recognized the device. “Where did you get this?” he asked.
“I … acquired it from a group of travelers today.”
“Were these travelers well dressed and headed south?”
Gothen didn’t answer. Thane pressed the sword tip harder against his chest.
“Yes! Yes, they were,” he said with desperation.
“How many where there?”
“I-I don’t remember,” Gothen felt lines of sweat trickle down his neck and back.
“Think harder! More than eight? Less than five?”
Gothen searched his mind for images of the teachers. “I’d say … more than eight”
Thane hunched his shoulders over, fumbling the strange device in his free hand. He then pointed it forward. After analyzing it for a moment, he pressed its narrow sides. Instantly, a bright bluish light shot from its tip and illuminated the forest before him. A few yards away from where they all stood, etched in a tree, was a hand-drawn image of the Realmsic symbol.
“Gotcha!” Thane exclaimed. He pointed Gothen’s sword towards the archers. “Get rid of these bandits,” he ordered his men.
“No, wait!” Gothen pleaded, nearly sobbing as his accomplices were marched away from the encampment into the woods. Glancing back towards the General, he barely caught the quick flick of Thane’s wrist. The glint of his own blade swinging swiftly towards his head was the last thing Gothen saw.
Chapter Seventeen
During times of pressure, Damian preferred to be alone. He was never the type of person who needed to be surrounded by people. He felt most comfortable in silence, in the company of his own thoughts.
For days, he’d not left the Great Hall in the Realmsic castle, turning it into his personal central command center. Although commandeering Maebus’ throne seat and the council table, he rarely sat there. Much of Damian’s time was spent planted in front of the massive Realmsic map that draped the wall. His physical appearance was small compared to the size of the room, yet his presence filled the entire chamber.
Damian thought through his current situation and future plans, meticulously analyzing their many potential outcomes. Like an island, he stood immovable in front of the world map. It annoyed him to not yet possess the Realmsic Crystal. It was the only thing stopping him from commencing the second phase of his conquest.
As he pivoted towards the council table, he noticed a figure standing in the doorway. The bright light shining in from the corridor silhouetted the figure’s frail body.
“I didn’t sense you,” Damian said.
The figure bowed slightly within the entrance. “My apologies, great leader. I did not want to interrupt your focus.”
“Come in, Seku,” he invited, moving from the map to the council table. Damian sat on the throne seat as Seku approached.
“Sit,” Damian ordered. Seku obliged.
“That throne suits you perfectly, my Lord,” Seku said, scooting closer to the table surface.
“Ha, ha, ha. You’ve mastered quite a silver tongue at your golden age,” Damian replied.
“I like to think of my age as being advanced.”
Damian smiled as he observed the man sitting before him. Seku’s black and gray hair was similar to his own, though not as long. His mature face possessed deep age lines obtained from a particularly arduous life.
Despite his age, Seku was a skilled warrior, yet his recent days within the Legion were spent spying, more so than fighting.
He currently served as Damian’s eyes and ears regarding all situations. Staying mostly invisible to others, he slid as easily through the Legionarie ranks as he did the violent avenues of the Realmsic Kingdom. The information he gathered was essential for Damian to stay abreast of potential issues and threats, to keep his message uniform, and to keep his men of one accord.
“So,” Damian began, “what information do you have for me?”
Seku leaned forward as he spoke. “My Lord, your victory echoes throughout the land. The Legion is elated, and the Realmsic people are terrified.”
Damian listened intently.
“I’ve spoken to many of our men on the ground and listened to their conversations with each other,” Seku continued. “I’ve also observed the inhabitants of Centre Pointe. They cower in their homes or they flee. It appears the collective on both sides are still in disbelief at the fall of the Realmsic Kingdom. Yet many questions are being asked.”
“Questions like what?” Damian probed, leaning back in the stiff throne.
“Well, frankly, people want to know if victory has been achieved. Will magic now be completely outlawed, or will it remain as it currently is, regulated to practical-use only? For many, it seems the uncertainty of what’s to come is unnerving.”
“What’s to come,” Damian began, “is a conquest unlike anything ever before seen.”
“I think you’ve already succeeded. The fall of the kingdom—a two thousand-year-old institution—was far beyond anyone’s imagination.”
“Not mine,” Damian stated. “For what I’m planning next, Seku, this kingdom is but a pebble upon the face of a mountain. However, it cannot begin until I’ve obtained the Realmsic Crystal! Not only will it enhance my own magic, but Maebus will be powerless without it, and never again will there be a magical entity that can threaten me or our people.”
“Soon you will have the crystal,” Seku said. “As we speak, General Thane is tracking down the former King.”
“The General does not move fast enough, and I must take advantage of the kingdom’s current climate of uncertainty… a climate that each day slips away from me.”
Damian rose from his seat and stepped once again towards the world map. “I cannot afford to wait,” he explained.
His mind ached with frustration. Right now, Damian had the loyalty of his men. But how long would their elation realistically last? How soon would they begi
n asking questions he did not yet want to answer? Also, how realistic would it be for General Thane to track down Maebus, who already proved to be as unpredictable as Damian himself?
“I have no doubts that all you seek shall come to you,” Seku said.
Shall Come To You… Damian’s mind suddenly sparked. He turned towards Seku.
“Yes!” Damian said. “All things shall. If I cannot find Maebus, then perhaps I shall make him come to me!”
Seku raised a curious brow. “How will you force him to do that?”
Damian smirked. “No leader wants to see their people suffer. Therefore, I will unleash the full fury of my Legion upon the people of Centre Pointe. All will grieve until the Realmsic Crystal is in my possession. Terror will travel rampantly, and Maebus will have no choice but to return and face me.”
Seku stroked the stubble on his chiseled jaw as he contemplated the notion. “That’s an interesting idea, my Lord. Yet, I wonder…” he paused.
“Go on,” Damian replied.
“If the King so willingly surrendered his kingdom, would he be willing to return to its defense?”
“As I said, Maebus will have no choice. Those of his people who still possess hope will be crushed, their cries will be unanswered. The kingdom, and the surrounding Realm, will be in such despondency that they will loathe their former King. There will be no place in the known world for him to hide. Therefore, Maebus will have to return, or he will live the rest of his life in disgrace.”
Seku nervously chewed on his lip, seemingly unsure of how to respond. “What do you intend to do to the Realmsic people?” he asked.
Damian’s smile vanished. “I intend to break their will.”
Chapter Eighteen
A week had passed since the brothers completed their mission. Heegan and Hom had journeyed stealthily from Centre Pointe, through the Centre Forest and South Woods, to the very edge of the Hellish South Plains. The brothers passed the time in a stone cottage that had been erected well in advance of their arrival. While secluded from the bedlam of the kingdom, they were eager for the arrival of someone who had followed their trail of symbols.
Despite the cottage’s weather-worn exterior, Heegan could tell that much thought went into its design. Four solid slabs of stone had been fused into a single-level structure. Each slab was at least several inches thick, making it both impenetrable and fire resistant. Its roof was made of millions of tiny melded pebbles that were covered with leaves as camouflage. A chimney stuck from the center of the roof. Although too narrow to climb down, it was wide enough to provide natural ventilation. A single window was cut into the stone and covered with glass. Behind it draped a curtain of leaves.
Two solid steel doors were fused into the stone cottage. One served as a general entrance. The other was located in the back as an emergency exit. Heegan and Hom found the cottage’s interior surprisingly comfortable. It contained all of the modern conveniences they were accustomed to: tables, chairs, beds, pots, pans and candles. The details were undoubtedly conceived from the meticulous minds of King Maebus and Grand Wizard Kelm.
Although it was unclear to Heegan who would be following the hidden symbols, he hoped the person would come with answers. As Hom found their new surroundings wondrous, Heegan constantly fought back his own growing concerns. How long would they have to stay out here? Who was coming? And what else would be asked of them upon their arrival?
So many questions… What if nobody ever came? When would the war be over? When would they get to see their parents again?
Despite their troubles, the cottage seemed calm and timeless to them, with the days languidly passing the same as the others. Nighttime, which only preceded another day of uncertainty, brought little solace to Heegan. He’d quickly gotten into the habit of lying awake, feeling interred in the darkness. Now, on the sixth night of their stay, he found himself once again staring at the ceiling from his bed of straw. Hom, as usual, easily fell asleep and was now snoring. It amazed Heegan how one so young could generate a sound so loud. Meanwhile, despite his own shifting, tossing, and turning, he couldn’t find a comfortable position on the straw. He tried directing his attention to the sound of the rain rustling the leaves of the nearby trees.
Wait a sec ... Heegan suddenly thought. It’s not raining outside!
Kneeling on the bed, he carefully peeled back the leaf curtains and peeked through the window to see several figures approaching the cottage. In the light of the torch they carried, their faces looked dirty and dangerous.
“Hom, get up!” he whispered sharply to his brother. Lifting his head, still groggy and half conscious, Hom went back to sleep.
“Hom, I said get up! Somebody’s coming!”
He snapped to attention. “Finally?” Hom replied eagerly. Joining his brother on the straw bed, he stared through the window. “Who are they?”
“I don’t know,” Heegan replied. “They’re too far away for me to tell.”
“Let’s go greet them,” Hom said, bouncing off the bed.
“No!” Heegan yelled, snatching his brother back by the collar.
“Why?” Hom exclaimed. “Isn’t this what we’ve been waiting for?”
“Absolutely not! We have no idea who these people are. We can’t just expose ourselves.”
Hom chuckled. “Expose ourselves,” he repeated, waggling his eyebrows.
Heegan rolled his eyes. Taking advantage of the distraction, Hom pulled away and once again bounded off the bed, sprinting through the door of the cottage.
“Get back here!” Heegan shouted, in quick pursuit. Hom ran innocently toward the figures, waving his hands.
The group of travelers stopped dead in their tracks. Heegan finally caught up with Hom and grabbed him by the collar yet again. Together, in the stillness of the night, both parties stood only a few yards apart, each studying the other.
Heegan’s pounding heart suddenly slowed as he recognized one of the female members of the group. Pushing his brother behind him, he stepped forward cautiously.
“C-C-Councilwoman, Elva?” he queried.
The woman seemed stunned to hear her own name. “Young man, are you the messenger?”
“The messenger?” Heegan asked.
“Yes, did you leave something in the woods for us to read?” Elva probed.
Heegan nodded. “Oh! I think so. My brother and I, we created the symbols. Is that what you mean?”
Hom stepped forward, removing the reflector from his pocket and presented it to Elva and the others. She took it and showed the device to Councilman Wyndam. He examined it.
“Yes, seems identical to the one I had.” He peered at the boys. “Well, looks like we’ve arrived.”
“Arrived where?” asked Councilman Jawn. “These surroundings are as drab as I’d ever seen in the Realm—nothing but dirt, trees, and a stone cottage.
“Please put out that torch.” Heegan admonished.
Councilman Mert quickly doused the flame by pressing it into the mud by his feet.
“Sorry. Our reflector was stolen. We created enchanted fire in order to see your symbols,” he explained as the smoke trailed from the extinguished flame.
“We’ve been here about a week, and it’s been relatively safe. But, we should still get inside … now.” Heegan said, looking around.
Together, the council members and the brothers headed into the cottage. Elva was the first to enter.
“My, this place is … interesting,” she said, taking in the surroundings.
“It’s not like our castle’s in mint condition,” Councilman Sheld said, entering the interior.
Hom laughed.
“A solid stone structure! At least we’ll be safe here for the time being,” Ferst said, examining the walls. Heegan stood next to his brother as the Councilman stepped toward them and bent so that he could address them at eye level. “Thank you so much for guiding us here. Not many others so young—perhaps not even grownups, would have been brave enough to make this journey from Ce
ntre Pointe. You two are absolutely remarkable!”
Heegan glanced at his brother. They both were beaming with pride. As skilled as they were mischievous, compliments didn’t come their way very often. “My name is Heegan.” He jerked a thumb toward his accomplice. “This is my younger brother, Hom.”
“Nice to meet you both,” the Councilman said. “I am Ferst. Behind me is Elva, Wyndam, Mert, Sheld, Jawn, Landi, Tavon, and Greeve. We are members of the Realmsic Council.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Hom said.
Ferst rose to his feet and straightened.
“So, what now?” asked Councilman Tavon.
All attention in the room shifted toward the brothers.
Heegan shook his head. “I actually don’t know,” he replied. “We were only told to plant the symbols. We didn’t even know who would be coming.”
“Hey!” Hom shouted to the group. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “I have a letter,” he said.
Heegan immediately turned around. “You what?”
Hom presented the folded letter containing the official Realmsic seal.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Heegan asked.
“I was told to keep it a secret.”
“Naturally,” Jawn exclaimed.
Hom continued, “I’m sorry, brother. I was afraid to say anything, and it was supposed to be given only to whoever arrived.”
“No, you did the right thing,” Heegan replied, ruffling his brother’s hair.
“May I?” Elva asked, reaching out for the letter. Hom handed it to her. She opened the back by breaking a wax seal and unfolding the sheet of parchment. She turned the page from front to back, examining it as a crease appeared across her forehead. “There’s nothing here,” she exclaimed.
“Try using the reflector,” suggested Councilman Greeve. Wyndam handed her the device. She pointed it forward and beamed its light upon the page. Suddenly, words began to appear. The group huddled in its glow as she read the message aloud:
Dear council members,
If you are reading this letter, then you have successfully arrived at the cottage. This area, which resides at the edge of the Hellish South Plains, was scouted by our troops well in advance. You should be safe here for the foreseeable future.
The Hero of Legend Page 12