Revelations of Doom

by Jedidiah Behe

  The two larger men that flanked the leader were covered from head to toe in shining, exquisite armor, yet not as impressive as what the leader wore. They clutched helms at their sides and rested their hands on the hilts of identically made long-swords.

  Lucian could tell just by the cross guard and pummel of the hilts, that they were magnificent weapons. Each man had a large war hammer strapped to his back as well and some improved type of cross bow hanging at their side. Beyond the amazing display of armor and weaponry, the sheer size of these men was stunning. They both stood several inches taller than the leader, as tall as Eliath, with broad shoulders and massive limbs. Unlike the shorter man who was clean shaven, these two each had long dark hair with thick beards. Both had light blue tattoos on their faces, surrounding their eyes. Somehow those markings made them look more frightening than the armor and weapons they wore.

  The leader looked around the room with his calculating gaze. “Who be the spokesman of this fine city?” He spoke elegantly, with a soft voice that betrayed the authority behind it.

  The Governor stepped forward. He seemed startled to receive such a compliment about his city from this impressive looking man. “I am Governor Ethelholm and I am pleasantly surprised to have such a visit from the King of Ortsk.”

  “My name is Solomon. I am no King, but a simple priest. The people follow me, but only until the rightful leader can be named.” His eyes swept the room, stopping on Lucian. “We have come to seek help from a great man.” A small smile crept onto his face as he continued to stare into Lucian’s eyes. “As you all know, a great war is at hand.” He let his gaze move from Lucian to take in the others. “We have here, in this room, representatives from all the largest of the southern tribes, save Kaheendra. We must unite to combat the darkness that looms over Vorea and threatens to sweep over all of Los. This can only be accomplished with the help of Kaheendra.”

  The governor was nodding his head in agreement. “Yes, we should all write letters to be carried out by messenger to Kaheendra and the other smaller tribes.”

  “No” said Solomon. He pointed at Lucian. “You must go to Kaheendra and speak to their leaders. A written message will do no good. You must go and deliver the message in person.”

  Lucian’s brow drew down in confusion as the others in the room all looked at him as though he knew something that they didn’t. He gave a bewildered look to the Priest, “why me?”

  “You know why,” replied Solomon.

  Visions of the dream flickered to the front of Lucian’s thoughts. Did this man know of his dreams, how could he possibly know?

  “Come speak with me alone,” said Solomon, as he motioned for Lucian to follow him outside.

  The others watched in suspense as the two men left the room. They looked to one another, each hoping someone would know what was going on, everyone except Eliath that is.

  Lucian’s longtime friend and guardian simply smiled as he watched them leave the room.

  Outside, Solomon led Lucian down a cobblestone road. The city around them was waking and it was becoming busy.

  Solomon spoke slowly. “Your destiny lies in Kaheendra, Lucian.”

  Lucian stopped walking and grabbed the priest’s shoulder, turning him around. “How do you know my name? Who are you?”

  Solomon smiled warmly. “I know many things about you Lucian, but there is not much time. I mentioned earlier that I was in search of a great man.” He paused to look into Lucian’s eyes for a moment. “That man is you.”

  Lucian just stared at the priest, not knowing what to think.

  “I see the doubt in your eyes, Lucian of Drahvanael. You have doubted your purpose in this life ever since your parents were murdered.”

  Lucian almost fell backwards. He didn’t know what was more shocking, hearing this man, that he had never met and knew nothing about, call him by that title, or that he knew of his murdered parents.

  “How could you know such things? Are you a seer?” asked Lucian, mystified.

  Solomon chuckled. “I have the gift of prophecy, yes. But in a way that far exceeds that of a Seer.”

  Lucian looked down at the cobblestone road. “I am a simple man. I don’t see how I could help in this war except in the capacity of another body to add to the numbers.” He then looked up at the priest, his eyes showing his hesitance. “And I don’t put much weight in prophecy or visions.”

  “Really?” asked Solomon skeptically. “Then tell me, Lucian. Have you not recently had a dream that seemed unlike any dream that you have ever had before?”

  Lucian stared with wide eyes. “There is no way for you to know that? I haven’t even told Eliath.”

  “Let’s not concern ourselves with the how, let’s concentrate on the why. You have now heard from several others about your true heritage, yet still you doubt. Why?”

  “It just seems so strange, so unbelievable,” said Lucian. “I am no descendant of a once great nation, just a hunter from Yavasura. All this talk of a forgotten kingdom somehow seems too ridiculous to believe. And what of it, what if it is true, why would people look to me as a leader because of my heritage? I am the last person that they should consider following.”

  “Some of the best leaders ever born were those that seemed the least likely,” replied Solomon.

  Lucian mulled it over for a few moments before speaking again. “In one of my dreams, I saw a terrible evil that swept the land. The dream was foggy, I don’t remember it well. I don't even know where it took place." Lucian moved some dirt around with his foot, "I’ve never had dreams like these before."

  "They were not dreams,” said Solomon, “but visions of a possible future. In time you will see them more clearly."

  "But my dreams...or visions, showed nothing of Kaheendra. Why must I go there? What did your vision tell you?"

  “It was not shown to me why, only that you must go,” answered Solomon.

  Lucian buried his face in his hands and tried to sort out all his thoughts, discern the meaning behind all that had happened. He finally looked to the priest, still skeptical of the whole thing, and shook his head. “If you say I must go, than I shall. For reasons that seem to elude me, I trust in your guidance. But I still don’t see why Kaheendra would heed my words. They will probably laugh in my face and run me off, or run me through.”

  Solomon laughed a hearty, deep laugh and clapped Lucian on the back. “If at first ye fail…”

  Lucian knew the rest of the old adage. He offered a halfhearted smile to the priest, which made Solomon laugh even louder.

  “Come with me Lucian, there is something that I have for you.”

  Lucian gave him a wary look but Solomon just gestured for him to follow. Next to the building that the others were in, three large warhorses, covered in armor, were tethered to a small copse of trees.

  Lucian smiled appreciatively at the magnificent animals, he always loved the powerful and yet beautiful looking creatures. They always looked so regal, especially the specimens that stood before him now. He was amazed at how beautiful the armor was they were clad in. Bright, orange-red rays reflected off the shiny curves from the early morning sun.

  Solomon walked up to the largest of the three. It was a grey stallion with soft black spots all over.

  “What a fine looking animal,” said Lucian, as he ran his fingers through its dark grey mane.

  “Yes, his name is Thistle,” said Solomon. “He has been a good friend to me for a long time.”

  The stallion tossed its head as Solomon patted its rump. He unlatched a large leather sack on the back of Thistle and pulled it off, handing it to Lucian. It made a scraping metallic sound, but seemed to light in weight for it to be anything such.

  Lucian set the gift on a stone table close by and un-wrapped it. He stood in awe at the sight of what was within. The most brilliant looking armor he had ever seen glimmered back at him, an entire set, identical in the making. Lucian ran his fingers over the intricate details of the breastplate. It was precisely f
ormed, with beautiful gold emblems of flame along the waistline and on the sides near the left and right gardbraces. Short iron horns were riveted along the neckline. He pulled the shoulder pads and stared at them with complete astonishment. The craftsmanship was superb. Each pauldron was formed to look like the head of a roaring lion, a large mythical beast said to have once roamed the larger continents of Deru. The right pauldron gardbrace held a large gem that looked as if as storm raged within. The amazing gold detailing continued throughout the remarkable set of armor made of metal so pure that it seemed crystalline. Strange runes, like those tattooed on the Priest, were engraved into the pauldrons, breastplate and tasset.

  "What do these symbols mean?" asked Lucian as he thumbed over some of them.

  "I don’t know for sure,” replied Solomon. “I have seen them in many visions. When I dreamt of this armor for you, I also envisioned the symbols to place on it."

  Lucian looked studied the strange runes on the breastplate. They ran down vertically along piece, in between raised golden ribs. In the center of the chestpiece, right below the color, was a flat, round area the size of a large medallion. "Is something supposed to go here?"

  "It is as I saw it in my dream. I too thought it strange, and wondered if I may have envisioned it wrong, but I dare not change it."

  Lucian shook his head as he stared at the magnificent set. He picked up one of the pauldrons again and frowned at Solomon. "This seems too light to be made of a metal thick enough to stop a sword."

  “I assure you it will stop any blade, arrow, or spear,” said Solomon, a proud grin coming to his face.

  Lucian picked up the chest plate, testing its weight. "This is amazing. It feels as though I am holding only leather." He kept lifting the piece in the air, as though something was wrong and soon the weight would pull down his arms. After a moment he turned to Solomon with a look of confusion. "This is the most magnificent set of armor I have ever seen. How did you know to make this for me, we have only just met?"

  "I have been crafting this armor for twenty years, since the day that the vision of your birth first came to me,” said Solomon.

  Lucian just shook his head. "I don’t understand."

  Solomon let out a deep laugh. "Don't concern yourself with my visions, Lucian. You have your own to worry about. This armor is a gift from my people to you. Why don't you try it on?"

  Lucian studied Solomon's eyes. He looked like a child waiting for someone to open up their gift. He couldn't disappoint the man. "You’re going to have to help me put it on. I have never worn a suit of armor and I would just die if Tarriel saw me walking around with it on backwards."

  Solomon rushed up and started pulling out pieces, latching them on where they belonged. It fit together perfectly, nearly seamless. Once all the pieces were in place, he stepped back to admire the work.

  Lucian stared down at himself. His voice was just a whisper. "This is the armor I wore in my dream."

  Solomon only shrugged and stared at him with a wide grin.

  Lucian moved his arms around and squatted a few times, testing the armor’s flexibility. "This is simply amazing. My movement isn't hampered at all. How is this so light in weight, what type of metal is this?"

  "The metal used for this armor comes from the mountains that I live in. It is very rare and we must dig deep to mine it. That is why it took nearly twenty years to make the set. The process is grueling, but in the end," He ran his fingers over the beautifully made pauldrons, "A fine suit of armor emerges. There is one more thing," he said as he pulled out something that was wrapped up in silk cloth and handed it to Lucian.

  When Lucian took off the cloth, revealing a helmet, his breath caught in his throat. After seeing the rest of the armor, Lucian had thought that he had witnessed the finest craftsmanship ever. He was wrong. The helmet captured his eyes in such a way, that he thought he might never pull them free. He was absolutely sure now, that this was the most splendid work of blacksmithing he had ever seen. Like the shoulders, the helm was made to look like the head of a lion. The detail was beyond perfect. As Lucian put it on, chills ran up his spine. He pulled down the front panel, fully enclosing his head, and looked out of the roaring mouth of a lion at Solomon.

  The priest was staring at him with a mixed look of awe, and proud accomplishment. "How does it feel?"

  The armor was fitted perfectly to Lucian, it seemed molded to his body. "It is a flawless.”

  Lucian turned to the Priest and clasped forearms with him. "Thank you Solomon, this is a fine gift. Words could never express my gratitude to you and your people for what you have done."

  Solomon nodded. "It was a gift that I have waited my whole life to give. I only hope that it protects you through yours."

  The two men walked back to the room where the others waited.

  Ethelholm had already started writing up the letters that would be sent with the messengers.

  When Lucian entered the room, donned in his full armor, minus the helm, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. The clamor from the city outside echoed off the walls of the quiet room.

  Lucian looked at Eliath, who seemed to be eagerly awaiting the news, and decided to blurt it out and break the silence. “I will go to Kaheendra and speak with their leaders. Governor Ethelholm, could you direct me and my friend to where we might purchase some goods for the journey?” He acted as though nothing were different.

  The Governor, after recovering from being awestruck over Lucian's armor, started waving his hands in the air. “Nonsense, anything you need will be given to you without cost.” He leaned over the table, dipped his quill into a vial of ink and started scribbling instructions onto a leaf of parchment. “Here, take this to Andris, the head baker at the market just up the road. When you are finished there, go to the Armorer at the barracks on the southern side of the city. You can fill your quiver and sharpen your weapons there, then go to the stables, and find yourselves some horses.”

  Lucian nodded in appreciation and started gathering his things. He walked up to Tarriel and held out his hand. “It has been an honor to have had you with us Tarriel. I am forever indebted to you and the others.”

  Tarriel looked down at his hand. “What are you talking about? You’re not getting rid of me yet. I’m sending Tophin back to Culdora with the message. I am going with you. Someone has to help that big ox protect you.” She gestured toward Eliath and winked at him.

  Lucian didn’t bother arguing, he knew better than to try and change the mind of Tarriel.

  “Very well, in that case I bid the rest of you swift travels.” He gave the Governor a short bow and headed out the door. Solomon turned on his heel and followed behind him. “What about you priest?” Lucian asked. “What will you do now?”

  “My men have already been instructed on what they must do. I will join you in this quest.” He leaned close to Lucian with raised eyebrows. “Believe me, you will need my help.”

  “Are you speaking of prophecy again?” asked Lucian warily.

  Solomon just smiled at him and grunted.

  “Well then,” said Lucian, seeing that he would get no reply, “Be it either prophecy or simple caution that leads you to join me, I am thankful for the company and welcome the help.” And he truly did. Who knew what dangers awaited him on this unknown road he was traveling down.

  Solomon tightened the straps on his shiny gauntlets. “I follow you, because you have been chosen. This is the reason why the others have come to follow you as well. Your time as leader has already begun, Lucian. I have reason to believe that you will do a fine job of it. So fear not, I will help you through both your journeys.”

  Lucian stared ahead into oblivion, barely hearing what Solomon was saying. He wondered if he liked the idea of his life changing at all. Hunting in the woods of Yavasura seemed a distant memory now. He was awake now, but the nightmare had just begun.

  The Brush with Blade

  Valgannon slipped into the corridor that led down the front of
the cells in the Kaheendran prison. It was late. The guards were all in the main hall, rolling dice and casting lots, drinking and laughing about the prostitute they had just humiliated and sent on her way. He slowly crept down the hall to the door that led into the Princess’ cell. He could hear her slow steady breathing as she slept.

  Pulling out his lockpicks, he worked to free the iron bolt on her cell door. It took only seconds to give way. He frowned at the creak that the door made as it slid open, and waited to see if any guards had heard the sound and would come to investigate. None did. He slipped into the room, searching the shadows for the sleeping Princess as he looked in the direction of her audible breaths. She was curled up in the back left corner of her cell, wrapped up in several thin blankets.

  Valgannon moved in close and knelt down next to her, watching as her back moved rhythmically with her breathing. His knife made a soft ring as it slid out of the leather sheath. He hadn’t expected her to hear the noise, but had prepared himself if she did. What he was not prepared for, was the speed in which she moved.

  She caught him in the side of his neck with a knife handed chop. The blow stunned him and sent him skittering back away from her. He was furious at being struck and at how stupid he had been. He would not make that mistake again.

  †††

  Kyrianna jumped up to her feet. When she saw the man standing at the other end of the cell, she stepped back until she slammed against the stone wall. She had been expecting to see the new guard that delivered her food. He had been spending more and more time admiring her figure, and she guessed that it was only a matter of time before he tried to rape her. This however, was not that guard, but a shadow come to kill her. She pushed against the wall, wishing she could shove through it to the other side. The moonlight glimmered off the edge of the blade in the assassin’s right hand. It was the only part of the blade that wasn’t black.