The Story of Evil: Volume I - Heroes of the Siege

by Tony Johnson

  Steve tempered the blade by lightly heating the sword. At the same time, he coated the middle of the blade in wet clay, leaving only the edges exposed. The wet clay made the metal center of the sword stay flexible, so it could be a better absorber when clashing against other steel. The edges were unprotected by the clay, thus heating into a harder state for penetration through enemy armor in battle.

  After removing the clay, Steve spent twelve hours finalizing the grinding and then using rocks to sharpen the double-edged sword. He could not touch its sides in the slightest, lest he prick his finger. Then he polished the blade. It was such shiny silver; he could clearly see his reflection in it.

  The last part was the hilt of the sword. He used the long bone tooth of the first monster he had ever fought, a rare monster named Sabertooth. He wrapped it in coils and then red dyed leather to provide absorption to his hand from the impact of blows. The tooth gave the handle a slight curve at the end, making it unique. Steve felt it was surprisingly comfortable to hold.

  The finishing touch was a perfect red ruby. It was the second most expensive part of the sword. The first was the Dwarven steel, but the cost of the ruby was almost equal in price. A gemstone of the ruby’s size was rare. He used it as the pommel, fashioning it to the bottom of the handle of the sword. It was wider than the handle, so it helped him keep ahold of the sword if his hand slid down too far during battle.

  Steve’s sword was finished. Just like the King’s Sword Aurelia, it was able to be used one handed or two. Steve preferred to fight with a shield in his left hand, so his new sword would have to be equipped in only his right. The great sword had the hardness, strength, balance, and sharpness he set out for. It was by far the best piece of metal Steve had ever created. In fact, it was the best sword he had ever seen. His opinion was biased, of course, but in truth, it was one of the best weapons in the entire world. Steve never bragged about the sword he created, only gave thanks to the good god for blessing him with the ability to blacksmith.

  Steve called Commander Thatcher into the closed curtained part of the tent. Steve was very proud of his work, and he wanted his father to be the first one to see it. Thatcher himself believed it was the best sword he had ever seen in his life. He gave Steve a sheath he had purchased as a present for the accomplishment (the same sheath that was burned while being worn by the squire).

  Steve brought his sword out to a large crowd of warriors who had heard the work was finally complete and gathered around to see the finished result. They passed it around to a chorus of “oohs,” and “ahhs.” Many warriors cut it through the air, surprised by the lightweight feel of the larger bodied weapon.

  “What are you going to name it?” one warrior asked. “Every special sword deserves a great name.”

  “I will name it after my own name. Warriors, meet my sword, Brightflame.”

  There were no cheers, only scattered clapping from the crowd when he announced the name of his sword, but whenever Steve thought back to this proud moment, he liked to imagine that everyone cheered.

  More than once after its creation, warriors, and even townspeople, had come up and offered him vast amounts of gold for Brightflame, but Steve always declined their offers. People had even requested he make a personal replica for them. But Steve declined those as well. He could have died a rich man with some of the offers he received, but gold did not matter to the Steve. Some things couldn’t be bought, and Brightflame was one of them.

  Steve was enjoying catching up and reminiscing with Sir Thatcher when he heard a familiar sound of air being sucked in from behind him on the windowless side of the tower. Instantly Steve recognized it as the same sound he had heard before the dragon had blasted its element into Ostravaski’s watchtower, causing it to collapse.

  A monster is attacking.

  A loud thump on the tower roof made thirteen out of the fourteen men in the throne room jump at the unexpected noise. The only one who didn’t flinch was King Zoran. The twelve Guardian Knights drew their weapons out of their sheaths. Steve readied Brightflame. He planned to use what little energy he had left to battle whatever was above the throne room. It’s time to live up to the title of Guardian Knight.

  Immediately following a second thump, a chunk of the pyramid shaped ceiling crashed down onto Steve, Sir Thatcher, and a group of knights Sir Lambert had gone over to talk to.

  As Steve looked up and saw debris coming down, he pushed Sir Thatcher away with both hands, sending him falling to the floor on his butt. Steve had pushed him out of the path of the falling stones, but within the blink of an eye Steve was crushed by the tower’s debris.

  He was extremely dizzy from getting hit in the head and had to concentrate to fight off losing consciousness. This was the second time today he had taken a hard hit to the skull; however, neither was bad enough to completely knock him out. Steve couldn’t breathe. The wind had been knocked out of him when a huge stone piece of the broken tower fell across his chest and pinned his back to the floor.

  He hated the feeling of not being able to breathe in. His face grew pale as he tried to gasp for air under the tremendous weight pinning him down. For a second, he thought he was paralyzed, but he noticed he could move his arms which were outstretched in front of him. And he could feel the weight of broken parts of the conical tower roof on his lower legs.

  As he stared up through the gaping hole in the ceiling, he caught his first glimpse of the greatest living monster known to man: Nightstrike - son of the Imperial Dragon, Draviakhan. Nightstrike was the strongest and largest living dragon. His dragon’s scales were the same as his father’s: the darkest shade of black, mirroring the evil that was inside him. With the thickness of thirty pieces of armor stacked on top of each other, weapons and arrows were useless in damaging his body. He had horns coming out of his head and spikes on his back that were meant to ward off any aerial assaults. Nightstrike’s name came from the fact that he was so large and black, that when he attacked a city, it appeared as if darkness had come early. Just like how Draviakhan was also called the Imperial Dragon, Nightstrike had a secondary name as well; he was sometimes called the Dark Dragon.

  The Dark Dragon controlled four of the five elements: wind, water, electricity, and earth. He looked down into the throne room with a menacing stare followed by an ear-piercing screech. Steve watched a man with a black hooded cloak slide down part of Nightstrike’s neck and then jump off, falling down through the hole in the ceiling. He landed right next to the king.

  Who is that? Nightstrike has never had a rider before. No one has ever been evil enough to be worthy of calling the Dark Dragon their own.

  The squared marble floor chipped into pieces underneath where the figure landed hard on his feet. The front part of his cloak was open, revealing a metal plate of silver armor. The man wore silver gauntlets which covered each of his fingers individually as well as most of his hands and forearms.

  Under the gauntlets, he wore black leather gloves. He must have had shoulder spaulders on, because Steve could see the risen lump underneath the hooded cloak. Steve heard a slight jingle emit from the man. He must be wearing chainmail underneath. All of his armor looked like Dwarven-made steel, some of the strongest and most expensive. The man was prepared for battle.

  From the waist up, he was armored like a warrior, but his legs and feet were not armored at all. He wore black pants and black leather boots (instead of steel boots). He also did not have on cuisses, which was armor that protected the thighs.

  He’s forgoing the protection of lower armor so that he can keep his speed. Steve realized it was similar to the strategy he had used when he took of his leg armor to run to the castle faster.

  In his right hand, he held a large silver, doubled-edged sword. Its hilt was a custom-made miniature sculpture of the figure of Nightstrike. The tail of the dragon hung down and formed the handle of the weapon. The blade gleamed, having been cleanly polished. It looked sharp enough to cut through diamonds.

  The man looks ev
en more dark and evil than the dragon he rides. Steve felt the hair on the back of his neck rise at the sight of the villain. He tried to look at the man’s face, but it was hidden under the darkness of the hood. He looks like death personified. A Hooded Phantom.

  Even though Steve couldn’t see him, he could tell the figure was real. It was not a skeleton or a ghoul. He moved like a person and his chest moved up and down as he breathed. Steve wondered why any person would voluntarily fight against the twelve Guardian Knights all by himself. In addition to the knights, the Hooded Phantom would also have to battle the element wielding king.

  The twelve Guardian Knights started to run at the man with their weapons drawn. They abruptly stopped when the king yelled, “HALT!”

  The Hooded Phantom stood tall and looked directly at the king. He took his left hand and reached underneath the hood, pulling a black leather mask off his head.

  Steve saw the king’s shocked face as he pulled his sword out in a golden flash and took a couple steps back.

  “You! How are you still alive? I thought I killed you long ago!” Zoran’s surprise was apparent in his shaking voice.

  The man put the mask back on and then spoke in the most unique voice Steve had ever heard. The angry deep voice had the bass of a Giant’s, the rasp of the Supreme Commander’s, but also King Zoran’s confidence and authority.

  “I am back to fulfill my destiny. It’s time for you to die,” the man in black commanded.

  The king roared in anger and turned his golden sword into fire.

  Chapter 10

  King Zoran brought his fire sword crashing down on the Hooded Phantom, who blocked it with his own two handed sword which was suddenly made out of blue water. This man had control over the elements as well. A couple minutes ago, it was believed that Oliver Zoran was the only one in the world who could say that about himself.

  The Hooded Phantom crouched down and caused the king to go down on one knee by kicking him hard in the knee cap. Four of the knights were already sprinting at the figure dressed in black and silver when he stood up. His dragon hilted sword turned from blue to bright yellow, making a crackling sound. The Hooded Phantom did a 180 degree spin as an arc of lightning shot out of his weapon and blasted two of the knights hard into the tower wall. They hit the floor convulsing. The other two crashed through the large window. Whether that impact was the wall or the ground far below, the results were the same. All four of them were dead within seconds.

  The king was back up and angrily swinging a brown sword made of rock at the enemy. The Hooded Phantom simply ducked and drove his foot into the king’s side. The king’s armor protected him from most of the blow, but it still wobbled him off balance momentarily.

  Nightstrike clung to the top of the tower with his razor sharp talons and used the horns on top of its head to smash through the remaining part of the tower top. The stone debris rained down and crushed three of the knights. A bunch of the debris headed right for where King Zoran and the hooded assailant were battling. Before it hit them, it stopped in midair, right above their heads, as both men held brown colored weapons.

  The Hooded Phantom nodded at the wreckage and sent the stone pieces flying away from above him. They all shot out in a circle. Some punctured through the windows, leaving tiny holes that began cracking and spider-webbing. The rest of the debris crashed into the thick stone walls of the tower, leaving large dents. Two knights were hit in the stomach by the high speed stones being mentally controlled by the Hooded Phantom. Both knights were killed as their body armor wrinkled like paper when the stones hit.

  The red and blue warriors that had been standing outside the throne room doors came in to join the battle once the tower ceiling began to crumble. They, along with a knight, bull rushed the hooded assailant. They swung their weapons violently, risking leaving themselves open in exchange for hoping to land a critical hit on the excellent swordsman. Three highly skilled warriors were all attacking this man at the same time, and he killed each of them without taking a scratch.

  Steve had never seen a man move so fast while delivering such precise and accurate strikes with a sword. He noticed how fluid and agile the man’s attacks were. One attack flowed into another with expert speed. His instincts and awareness were incredible too. He never left himself open to be hit.

  Steve was struggling to get free when he heard the groaning of someone trying to lift the heavy rock off his chest. It was Sir Thatcher. Even when lifting from the top and having Steve use all his strength to push from the bottom, the large piece of debris remained in place. Sir Thatcher tried lifting from the side to give Steve enough room to squeeze out, but this technique didn’t work either.

  He looked up past the face of his adopted father to the black scaled dragon above in the giant hole where it had demolished the whole ceiling of the tower. The dragon sucked in its breath and sent a chilling vapor of frost down that spread through the entire room.

  Steve instantly felt colder than standing naked in a winter blizzard. He could see the clouds of his breath when he exhaled. The blood in his right ear and on his forehead froze solid. Every surface in the room was covered in a thick frost. The coldness became even more unbearable with each passing second. Steve struggled to keep his eyes open as his eyelashes were coated in frost. The cold called for him to allow his eyes to close and rest in the warmth of darkness.

  Steve was about to give in to the temptation when Sir Thatcher crouched over Steve and covered him with his body to prevent Steve from freezing. Sir Thatcher’s skin and armor began to frost over and he turned a shade of blue. Unlike the other knights in the room, Sir Thatcher was not screaming. He showed his strength in front of Steve.

  Sir Titus Thatcher looked down at the boy he had adopted, the one he had raised, and with a shivering jaw, managed to say, “I love you, son,” before ice covered his body and Titus Thatcher was frozen solid.

  Steve screamed, “Nooo!” but the word froze in his throat.

  If it wasn’t for debris covering him, and Thatcher shielding him from the freezing vapor, Steve would have died. Four of the other remaining knights froze like ice statues where they stood. All were dead. Usually if a monster attacked with frost, the effect would only result in frostbite, but Nightstrike was no ordinary monster. His elemental attacks were incredibly strong.

  The other guardians who survived the attack were moving slowly, half frozen. Crouching down into balls and covering their bodies with their shields had saved their lives.

  The Hooded Phantom had turned his armor on fire, saving himself from the attack. King Zoran had been attacking with a sword of hot, sizzling water, but now it was frozen. Sir Lambert, the Supreme Commander, must have dove through the golden doors, out of the room, because he was not in Steve’s field of vision.

  Nightstrike screeched as he was hit in the back by a blast of electricity. A group of five warriors on flying monsters had come to battle the black monster.

  Steve had thought all the aerial warriors were dead, but apparently some had survived. Maybe Ty is still alive too. Steve hoped he wasn’t on one of the monsters that had just attacked the giant dragon. Although they had successfully lured Nightstrike away from the throne room, he could hear each one of them being easily killed by the Dark Dragon’s rage.

  Steve knew the two fierce fighters in the center of the throne room recognized what was happening at the same moment he did, but they were too focused on each other to do anything to stop it. The large observatory window that supported two thirds of the tower had started to crack badly from holes in it. The frost only furthered the glass splintering.

  The Hooded Phantom backed away from the king, who was outmatched in the sword duel and was breathing heavily from defending himself against the vicious blows. The villain’s sword was covered in hard stone. He waved it in a horizontal arc towards the golden doors and the tower wall on both sides of them. Stones emerged and ejected from the sword and pelted the wall, furthering the damage that had already been made.
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  If the attack was any lower, it would have hit Steve and killed him. The stones flew over Steve and through the lower part of the curved wall, badly damaging the entire length of it.

  The Hooded Phantom parried a wild strike of attacks from the king before once again backing away from his enemy, who was even more winded from exerting so much energy. The Hooded Phantom raised his brown glowing sword made of stone and stuck it down into the marble floor. The throne room began to shake violently. Steve felt some of the debris shake off him. A couple loose stones from the destroyed top of the tower fell down from the quake. One smashed through a frozen knight encased in ice.

  The breaking glass window spider-webbed faster and faster until the tiny lines of cracks met each other and the entire window shattered into a million pieces. On the opposite side of the tower, the wall near Steve had a horizontal crack from the stones that had hit it. The shaking of the floor further damaged the weakened wall. There was an awful creaking sound as the wall began to pull apart at the crack. The low creaking turned into a grumbling ripping as the wall broke and separated into two parts.

  Since the observatory window was two thirds of the room, it had been supporting the majority of the tower above it. With the window gone and the wall disconnected, there was absolutely nothing supporting the top part of the tower.

  At first, Steve thought he was moving as he lay helplessly, looking up at the white, cotton ball clouds through the hole in the top of the tower that Nightstrike had created. Then he realized it was not him that was moving, but that the tower above was tilting. It fell down on the heavier window side. The wall above where the window had been, crashed down to the floor. On the other side, the broken upper wall was lifted up and away from the floor.