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

by Tony Johnson

  Steve heard an even more awful noise than the creaking and ripping he had just heard. As the tower began to slide down, it made a bone jarring screech of stone on stone. Steve realized he was in a giant, hollow tube that had been diagonally cut in two and the top part of the cylinder was sliding down the incline.

  A jagged piece of the tower wall caught the huge stone pinning Steve to the floor and knocked it off. Steve watched as the wall slid over top of him and then crashed into the ice sculpture of Sir Titus Thatcher, breaking him in two and then carrying the pieces along. The other frozen knights also broke when they were hit by the inside wall of the descending tower. The king and the Hooded Phantom both dropped to the marble floor and lay as flat as they could on their bellies. The wall came narrowly close to squeezing them both to death.

  The top of the tower disappeared, falling over the edge of the floor and crashing through part of the castle roof far below. Steve heard part of it fall into the moat because there was a slight splashing sound.

  Hopefully it crushed some monsters waiting outside the castle, he thought. Steve looked around and saw that there were no more Guardian Knights. If the men hadn’t been hit by electricity, crushed by debris, impaled by the Hooded Phantom’s blade, or frozen by Nightstrike’s freezing vapor, they were killed when the falling tower took them down with it.

  Only the Hooded Phantom, the king, and the Supreme Commander had ducked and dropped flat to the floor in time. In addition to Steve, these were the only four men that had survived. The golden throne and the model of Celestial were still in the room, but they were knocked over.

  Those things are worthless compared to the lives that were just lost, especially my father’s life. Steve knew it was not time to get emotional over the loss he had just suffered. All he could do in the moment was vow that he would kill both Nightstrike and his rider for killing the man who taught Steve everything he knew and made him into the man he was.

  Steve wiggled his way out of the smaller and lighter debris, now that he had been cleared of the main weight holding him down. He stood up, but was almost knocked back down to the marble floor. There was a strong wind whipping over the open circle platform high in the sky with no walls or windows to block it. Steve got on his hands and knees and frantically searched for Brightflame in the rubble. He had dropped it when he was crushed. It has to be around here somewhere.

  Meanwhile, the king and the Hooded Phantom fought back and forth, swinging their swords at each other, while their weapons kept turning different colors. They were both fighting with all five of the elements, fire, wind, water, electricity, and earth. Flashes of elements filled the air. The king’s red cape and the hooded man’s black cloak flapped behind them as they fought in the high winds.

  King Zoran’s attacks and defenses were getting slower with each deepening breath. The Hooded Phantom rained down an array of blows which the king defended, but it backed him up dangerously close to the edge of the floor. Falling off the side would mean falling to death. The king rolled out of the way, dodging an attack. The genius move positioned the Hooded Phantom in between the king and the drop off to death.

  But it was the Hooded Phantom who got the upper hand after he dodged Zoran’s aggressive attack meant to send him flying off the edge. The Hooded Phantom stabbed the off-balanced king straight through his right pectoral. If it had been the left side of his chest, the sword would have pierced his heart.

  Zoran loudly grimaced in pain when the Hooded Phantom pulled the sword back out, covered in blood. The Hooded Phantom then capitalized on the king’s blinding pain and swung his sword in a downwards arc. It went through the king’s golden armor and more than halfway through his thigh. There was a loud snap as the force dislocated his femur from his pelvis.

  King Zoran fell to the marble floor, writhing in pain. He suppressed his screams with a grimace. The Hooded Phantom stood over him, peering down at the king through his leather mask.

  “Why don’t you kill me already?” Zoran asked, trying not to sound like he was begging for a favor.

  “I already have.” The Hooded Phantom had barely finished the sentence when the Supreme Commander almost impaled him through the back. The Hooded Phantom turned around just in time to block the attack. Steve found Brightflame and quickly ran to the king’s side and crouched down next to him. Behind him he heard the clanging of steel on steel as the Supreme Commander used all his energy to battle the villain.

  Seventy name days. Steve, as well as Sir Lambert, knew he wouldn’t reach seventy-one the moment he picked a fight with the leader of the monster army. At some point earlier in his life, he might have been a worthy challenge, but all he could do now was grant the king an extra minute of life.

  Kneeling down beside King Zoran, Steve looked at the man sitting with a pale and blank look on his face. Blood ran down his golden armor from where he had been stabbed through the chest. One leg was straightened out, the other lay crooked and broken. Steve examined the wounds and gulped.

  There is no way he will be able to survive. Steve wished there was something he could do to heal the king so that this great man could live to fight another day, but his life was quickly ending.

  King Zoran turned to look at Steve. With his uninjured left arm, he grabbed the warrior by the armor and pulled him close. The king squinted, trying to get a closer look at the young man.

  “You have the same blue eyes. I remember now…I remember who you are,” Zoran said with the brightest of smiles. The expression was uncharacteristic for a man who had just been mortally wounded.

  Steve was confused by the king’s revelation. Before he could ask, “What?” the king said, “We have met before, but you don’t remember.”

  Chapter 11

  A puzzled Steve turned around when he heard the metal clanging stop and a man yell out in pain. The Supreme Commander’s sword arm lay on the marble floor, disembodied, with his weapon still gripped in the fingers of the hand. The Hooded Phantom savagely grabbed him by the throat and held him up into the air with one hand. Supreme Commander Lambert hit the Hooded Phantom repeatedly with his left hand, trying to break the hold. Sir Lambert twisted, turned, and kicked, but could not escape the death grip. The Hooded Phantom wasn’t trying to slowly choke him to death; he was trying to crush the man’s throat with his hand.

  And he succeeded.

  Steve saw Sir Lambert’s eyes bulge out of his head and his throat cave inwards and collapse under the pressure. The Hooded Phantom tossed the dead Commander over the floor ledge. In less than five minutes, the twelve famous Guardian Knights had all been killed.

  The Hooded Phantom casually walked over towards Steve and the king. Steve stood up to meet him in attack stance. With Brightflame out in front of him, he looked at the Hooded Phantom. From where Steve stood, it looked like there was nothing but shadows and darkness under the hood. He could see no face. It was concealed by the creepy black leather mask. Steve couldn’t imagine what was behind it. The only thing he saw was moving, piercing eyes behind the slits in the mask. One was brown; the other was a milky white. Steve could only see a little of what was below the mask. There was some viewable flesh on his neck. He had white skin, like Steve, but it was bruised and damaged in ugly purple and red.

  Steve was afraid for his life, but he did not let an ounce of fear show in his face. He tried not to cringe at the hauntingly deep and chillingly slow, raspy voice.

  “You’ve seen what I’ve done to your warrior brothers. Yet you would stand against me? You would die for this king?”

  “I would die for this kingdom,” Steve said, surprising himself by the power in his own voice. Without thought, he swung Brightflame. It reached dangerously close to slitting open the throat of the Hooded Phantom. The enemy did not flinch in the slightest.

  “Then die you shall,” he said coldly while his sword turned to fire. Steve felt the heat of the blade on his face as he deflected blow after blow. The speed of the enemy’s attack seemed unreal. Steve felt like every swing
of his opponent’s blade was going to cut him. He didn’t know how he blocked the attacks, but he knew if he was even a tenth of a second slower at any moment, he would be dead. He also knew to watch out for the man’s kicks with his black leather boots. The Hooded Phantom had caught the king off guard with some of those powerful kicks.

  Where did he acquire these skills? At some point he must have been a warrior, but his skills are much more advanced than what we are taught.

  The Hooded Phantom switched over to green, and the already strong wind picked up around Steve. He swore that when he fought, there were times he felt his feet begin to leave the floor. But Steve held his own, blocking attacks while digging his foot under some of the debris to keep himself grounded.

  The man’s hits were so hard that each one sent a jolt through the ringing steel of Brightflame and pained Steve’s arms. There were times he didn’t even feel like he was gripping the red leather handle as his fingers and forearms were turning numb. I’m surprised one of these hits hasn’t knocked Brightflame out of my hands.

  Steve managed to surprise himself by parrying a couple attacks. The opening allowed him to swing his sword at the Hooded Phantom, but the elusive man easily ducked and dodged out of the way.

  Steve was hoping to land a lucky deathblow. He needed to kill this expert swordsman sooner rather than later. Steve was confident in the swordsmanship skills he had learned in Warrior Training, as well as what Titus Thatcher had taught him, but he knew he was no match for the skill of this enemy. He would not survive a technical duel. His chances of landing a killing blow were a long shot, but he would not give up.

  Steve tried everything he could. He threw rocks and debris. He bull rushed, trying to get the Hooded Phantom to take a misstep and fall off the edge. The last tactic he tried seemed to work the best, but it didn’t help in the attack at all. He picked up a fallen Guardian Knight’s shield to help defend against attacks while he swung Brightflame with one hand instead of two as he had been. The sword and shield was his most comfortable set of weapons in battle.

  Nothing was working for the young warrior. All he could do was prolong the battle and hope for a misstep by the Hooded Phantom. Even that was a bad strategy because Steve would probably make fifty mistakes for every one that his talented opponent made. The odds were stacked against him as the Hooded Phantom remained in complete control and composure.

  Steve reached a point when he could not physically take anymore. His attacks and defenses were slow. His arms, legs, and torso ached, and he could not catch his breath. Luckily, a man walked up onto the circular floor from the tower stairs. King Zoran called out the name before Steve broke concentration to see who it was.

  “Prince Silas.”

  Silvanus (Silas) Zoran was the son of the king’s late daughter. He was the one and only heir to the throne since the king’s only daughter had been murdered. The prince looked similar to his grandfather but better in every way. King Zoran was known as a big, strong, and good looking man, but his grandson took those three characteristics to a new level. If anyone had what was considered a man’s body, it was Prince Silvanus. His body was immense. He was not fat; he just had a huge frame. He was stocky with broad shoulders and wide hips. The prince was taller than even Sir Lambert, a mighty tower at 6’8”. Muscles naturally rippled his body without the need to work out to maintain them, but he lifted weights anyway, making himself even stronger.

  Few men were as physically blessed as he was. Also similar to King Zoran, was his hair. They both had dark black hair. His however, was wavy instead of straight and slick. He wore it at a medium length. He parted his hair down the middle of his head, having it fall to the sides over his ears and away from his brown eyes. It stopped at the line of his wide and strong jaw. The prince had a wide face and a large, strong chin. He grew out a goatee which gave him a sense of attitude and superiority, further adding to his already enhanced ego.

  Prince Silas’s ego was his main attitude problem (out of many). Silas Zoran was physically similar to King Zoran, but morally and as a person, he was the complete opposite. It was a running joke that the prince was so wondrously gifted physically that the good god must have forgotten to give him an attractive personality or discernment in making morally good choices. He was an absolutely horrible person. He was selfish and impatient. The smallest inconvenience would awaken his wild and violent temper.

  Steve never cared for the prince. He had met him a couple of times before in his life. Most recently, the prince had come to meet Steve after he won the Celestial Qualifiers. The meeting was not pleasant.

  It happened just a week and a half ago; on the same day Steve had had his party after winning the Celestial Qualifiers. The prince always jousted against Celestial’s winner in a friendly exhibition match the weekend before the tournaments began. Everyone knew the match was fixed. Since Prince Silas started the tradition at the age of twelve, he had not lost once. Steve had not accepted the castle’s invitation to hold his celebration there, so the Prince had to come and find Steve to schedule the match.

  That night, after the community celebration, Prince Silas came to Steve. The warrior was putting Clyx to bed in the stables, who had just spent the whole day giving rides to children. Steve knew the prince had not come to politely introduce himself and meet Celestial’s winner. He came so he could set a time to joust and command Steve to take a dive, as he had told every warrior prior. Prince Silas wanted this year’s exhibition to have the same outcome as the past seven.

  Steve could tell how strong the prince was from his size. Silas probably could have defeated Steve without needing him to purposely lose. But the fact that Silas had to ask Steve to lose meant he had no confidence in himself. All he cared about was how he appeared to the civilians of Celestial. Silas thought he always needed to appear strong and powerful since he would be king someday.

  “Is this the famous Clyx?” the prince asked Steve as he walked over to the horse. When he went to feed Clyx a carrot, Clyx bucked and smashed his front legs into the prince’s chest, causing him to stumble backwards and fall into a huge pile of horse droppings.

  Clyx always acted mischievous around people that he sensed were evil. He strongly felt this way towards Prince Silvanus. The prince angrily pulled himself out of the pile of feces. His white cloak and tunic were covered in the stinky brown mess. He swiftly walked over and punched Clyx in the jaw and then drew his sword to kill the horse. Steve quickly reached for Brightflame, but realized if he did draw it, he would be cut down by the five Guardian Knights protecting the heir to the throne.

  As the prince brought his sword down, Steve jumped in front of Clyx with his arms outstretched, guarding his horse. The prince stopped his downward swing just before hitting Celestial’s jouster. He spat in Steve’s face and yelled as he hurriedly walked away, “I hope that horse receives a sharp lance through its head during the tournament.”

  Before that incident, Steve had heard many stories of the careless prince. He was always drinking, gambling, and sleeping with loose women (and it was rumored men as well). The spoiled child, who was exactly the same age as Steve, had no respect for authority and acted as if he were entitled to anything and everything. He treated all of the civilians as if they were below him and did not deserve to be in his immaculate presence.

  Steve didn’t like the prince because of the things he had heard, but the moment Silas pulled his sword out to kill Clyx, Steve hated the man. It was time someone taught him a lesson.

  Before the prince walked out of the stables, Steve yelled out, “If you want to joust, we do it tonight!”

  When the Hooded Phantom saw Prince Silas come up the stairs in his full suit of shining white armor, he swung his rock encased sword upwards at Steve. Steve blocked the attack, but the force was so hard that it sent him flying backwards, airborne through the air. He dropped Brightflame as he painfully crashed down on his butt and back. The marble floor didn’t stop his movement. He continued to slide. There was nothing to catch
on to, nothing to stop him from sliding off the edge of the platform. Steve’s eyes widened as he began to fall.

  He reached up his hand and caught onto the ledge before he fell. His feet were dangling and the wind felt like hands wrapping around his legs, trying to pull him down to death.

  The whole time he was testing me, playing around. He wasn’t even using the full extent of his powers. Steve felt like a fool for even briefly believing that he was actually holding his own in the fight. He tried to lift himself up, but could not find the strength to pull his body all the way back up onto the ledge.

  Steve looked down from where he hung and saw where the broken tower had smashed into the castle ceiling below. His hands almost slipped as he felt dizzy from the height. He quickly took his eyes off the ground and stared straight ahead.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have done that,” he said repeatedly, vowing to himself never to look down again.

  The strong wind picked up and began whipping his body around like a flag. I can’t hold on much longer.

  Prince Silas walked over to his grandfather, the king, who looked even more ghostly pale, sitting in a pool of his own blood. The prince removed the king’s two-piece plate armor as well as his chainmail. His white undershirt was drenched in blood, making it stick to his chest. The prince smiled as he examined the wound.

  “Get out of here, Silvanus! This enemy is too powerful.”

  “I know, old man. I know of his power and I know his identity. I found out everything. Why did you never tell me? Did you think I wouldn’t eventually find out?”

  The prince’s deep and manly voice had an annoying quality to Steve. Steve hadn’t thought about whether or not he realized the voice was annoying until before or after he had decided he disliked the prince after he attempted to kill Clyx. The voice was a mixture of the prince trying to sound authoritative, while also having a bit of cockiness.