FARHAYVEN: VENGEANCE

by S. K. Ng

  The temperature drops, sending deep chills into Thorn’s body. The strong mountain winds compound the chill that he experiences. He begins to shiver badly. Finally he reaches another ledge and he slumps his body flat on it. He breathes heavily due to the thin air. He relaxes his entire body, allowing it to recuperate faster, but his mind is as focused as ever. He looks down. There is a considerable gap between him and the Serpentians. He shoots off two more arrows at his pursuers down below, but this time only manages to kill one of them. He sits back and takes a sip of water from his container. Slinging his bow once again, Thorn grabs the nearest hold he can find and resumes his climb.

  The Farhayvenyte sun hangs low over the horizon. Thorn is half way up the mountain. His lips are dry and cracked. His face is as pale as the moon. But he affords a smile, for he has finally reached the ridge line that forms the narrow valley connecting the mountain peaks. He takes a few desperate sips of water. Then he sprints along the snaking, undulating terrain trying to find a way that cuts across the range. The thickening vegetation now begins to impede his progress but he is glad that they are there for two reasons.

  The first reason is that these vegetations are a natural sign that he is on Fallsian soil and he is ever so glad to be setting foot on his homeland again. The second and more important reason is that these vegetations offer him cover and opportunities to hide and disappear into the background.

  Thorn hears a distant sound of water gushing. He rushes to its source. Arrows fly past him. Thorn turns around to see the Serpentians chasing wildly after him, their faces as pale as his. Thorn decides to return the favour. He strings an arrow, draws the bow, takes aim at Fightlord Forktongue and lets it loose. The heavy wooden shaft cuts through the thin, cold mountain air and embeds itself into the fightlord’s left shoulder, knocking him back a step or two. He lets out a frustrated grunt. This impresses Thorn a lot. It seems that Fightlord Forktongue is tough enough to take the pain of being shot at with an arrow. Thorn reasons though, that the fightlord is surprisingly tough but none the more humbler or wiser, for this is Thorn’s home ground. At any moment the Serpentians may run into a patrol of Fallsian soldiers and the tables will be turned against them. Then the hunters will become the prey. Thorn affords a smile at the irony of such a potential situation. If it truly happens that the situation reverses, Thorn shall see to it that the fightlord gets nothing but a small bun, once a day, everyday throughout his entire stay at the Fallsian dungeons.

  Thorn makes his way through the thick vegetation as best he can. His feet shuffle with the greatest speed. His lungs burn with pain. His hands paddle wildly through the air. He eyes are blurred by the coming darkness. But his ears are focussed on the sound, the sound of gushing water. He knows that gushing water means a stream, which will lead to a river, then to waterfalls and finally to Fallsian villages and towns, and hopefully a garrison of Fallsian soldiers. He spots the vague outline of a stream and runs downstream along its bank.

  More arrows fly past Thorn, but he does not retaliate. He quickens his pace. The sky is darkened now as the sun sets below the horizon. The sound of gushing water gets louder as the stream merges into a river. Thorn sprints desperately along the river bank in darkness. The undulating terrain makes his steps clumsy and unstable. Another volley of arrows fly by him, along with the complimentary curses and threats by Fightlord Forktongue. Then Thorn feels something amiss. The gushing sound suddenly turns very loud and the ground disappears from under his feet. He can hardly have the sense to let out a yell of shock as his body plummets to the unknown below. Cold, freezing water rushes into his ears, nose and mouth. The coldness swallows his body and stiffens it with the ensuing shock. Then all becomes dark, cold, wet… and silent.

  Somewhere in the Kingdom of Free Falls, in one of the many dark caves that were so characteristic of the mountain ranges in this land, two figures met in secret. Two torches provided minimal illumination. The contrast of the clothes that these two figures wore could not have been any bigger. One wore a simple black attire while the other wore elegant clothes weaved with gold, silver and many ornamental stones. But there was one thing they had in common, both men wore masks to hide their faces.

  “You failed to kill the prince!” said Lord Destiny, who as usual, was garbed in fine clothes.

  “You set me up! There were Elementhars guarding the prince on that day!” accused the man who was dressed in the simple black attire of an assassin.

  “No, I did not. I did not know that the Elementhars were given that assignment until after the event,” denied Lord Destiny calmly.

  “That doesn’t make a difference to me! It took my men three long months to dig those tunnels! Only the best of my assassins were selected and they had to undergo the most intensive and rigorous forms of training for months. And all of that for what!? For what!? So that they could all get killed!? I’ve lost more than 200 men on that day! 210 men to be exact! It should’ve been an easy kill, but now, it’s a disaster! All because you gave me faulty information!” said the assassin.

  Lord Destiny went silent for a while. He realised his tone would get him nowhere with the assassin.

  “My condolences for your loss, but blame me not, Clanmaster Collart. There was no way for anybody to have known that the Elementhars were assigned on that day. Besides, I was made to understand by our mutual contact, Baron Chessmaster, that your clan is the best and that you have dealt with Elementhars before. You are the experts of this industry. Your men should have been able to get the job done even with the Elementhars present!” he said.

  “It’s not that easy! With Elementhars, it’s never that easy!” stated Clanmaster Collart.

  “But I have paid you one half of 3000 pieces of gold coins for one dead prince, clanmaster! Are you going to finish the job and earn the final half or shall I take my business somewhere else?” pressured Lord Destiny.

  “The prince is as good as dead! It’s just going to take longer than expected. And the cost is going to go up, unless you don’t want to pay, of course. In which case, I’ll use my expertise on you and take from you what you owe me and more…much, much more,” said the assassin.

  “Are you threatening me!?” asked Lord Destiny firmly as he grabbed Clanmaster Collart by the collar of his shirt and shoved him against the cold, dark wall of the cave.

  Clanmaster Collart offered no resistance. He just stared fiercely into Lord Destiny’s eyes.

  “Never underestimate a man who has a lot of money and power, clanmaster! I can make you disappear just like the countless hundreds who were the victims of your so called assassins’ clan!” said Lord Destiny.

  “And seeing that I’ve made countless hundreds disappear, what’s one pathetic, albeit rich and powerful man to me?” stated the clanmaster coolly as he stealthily drew out his dagger and pressured its tip onto Lord Destiny’s throat.

  “So where do we stand from here?” asked Lord Destiny as he released his hold on the assassin.

  “We stand at 9000 gold coins for one dead prince, so you owe me another 3000 pieces in down-payment,” answered Clanmaster Collart.

  “Fine, you will have your 9000 gold coins! But once you have killed the prince, and you had better get him killed, I am done with you! You take your 9000 pieces and you run as far away as possible from where I hold influence or authority, or I shall see you hang by the neck in public square!” consented Lord Destiny rather reluctantly as he backed away, took his torch and stormed out of the cave.

  The 3rd Evening of Fourth Month of Dry Season saw Minvian Ray Iddell overseeing guard duties at Castle Greenbloom, located on a plateau in the central area of North-western Falls Province. Castle Greenbloom was near Fallsgreen Town, about a day and a half’s ride away. The operation to hunt for the assassins in Shadow Forest had been taken over by a pond from Fort Westguard. Ray was here at Castle Greenbloom with Clover, Rod and 1st, 2nd and 3rd Rivers of the Royal Elementhar Pond. He had left Serene and 4th and 5th Rivers back at Fallsgreen to tie up certain admini
strative loose ends. Spirit was sent back to Fallsene City with a stream from 5th River which was assigned to accompany Convian Sky Proest’s river and Queen Patrum.

  Ray was silent as he walked the perimeter of the outer courtyard with Clover from checkpoint to checkpoint to ensure that his subordinates had carried out their assigned duties properly and efficiently. She too, was silent. Both were saddened by the recent loss of their subordinates.

  “Attack _ the assassins’ of this was incredibly bold and exposed, do you not agree, master?” asked Clover, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yes,” answered Ray.

  “Tactics _ why were theirs of these different than from the other instances?” asked Clover.

  “Speculations _ I have only of these, whereby perhaps Prince Patrum was too well guarded for them to try their usual ways; or maybe Prince Patrum is too important of a target for them to be overly cautious; or possibly they became over-confident due to access to some inside information; or very likely, all three reasons altogether contributed to their decision on how they mounted the attack,” Ray replied as they both walked out of the main door to the courtyard.

  Inside information? Clover had never considered this before! But it made sense, she reasoned. Otherwise, how could the assassins have known that Prince Patrum was to be in Fallsgreen? But how could it be? The prince was well loved by the people and by the government! Who in the government wanted him dead? Who would be in the position of gain if the prince is killed? No one! The prince’s posts and titles were inherited, not earned or granted! If the prince was killed, no one in the government could take his place.

  “Possible _ do you think of this that they had received inside information, master?” said Clover.

  “Likely _ it is very much of this, seeing that they dug a tunnel that would have taken at least three or four months to dig whereas the prince’s attendance at the function was only declared to the public two weeks before the event,” said Ray.

  The evidence was overwhelming! There has got to be a traitor in the government!

  “Traitor _ is the existence of him really possible, master?” asked Clover.

  “Traitor _ the existence of him is not only possible, but is most likely; so I have instructed Serene to form a team to investigate the matter. Traitor _ of him could be anyone who is close to us, or maybe is close to someone who is close to us. Traitor _ also, there could be more than one of him. Reasons _ of these there are a myriad, for example, financial troubles, political disagreements, emotional and mental manipulation by schemers and so on,” answered Ray.

  Half an hour later, Ray and Clover returned to the castle’s keep. Immediately, Ray noticed that something was wrong. The two guards whom he had posted there earlier were now missing. Clover drew her sword out instinctively.

  “Location _ Royal Guards, what is yours of this!?” Ray called out in a loud and firm manner.

  There was no reply.

  “Respond _ Royal Guards, you are to do of this now!” Clover called out in an equally loud and firm manner.

  Still, there was no reply.

  “Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!” shouted Ray at the top of his voice.

  Alarm bells at the four watchtowers started ringing rapidly and continuously. Convian Rod Sayson and two other Sollenthars, who were guarding Prince Patrum in the study room on the second floor, wasted no time in firmly escorting the prince out into the second floor hallway. There, Rod pulled a specific torch-holder and a secret panel in the wall opened, revealing a hidden chamber. Rod and his subordinates escorted Prince Patrum into the chamber and closed the secret panel behind them.

  Meanwhile, downstairs, a fat, clumsy minvian ran towards Ray and Clover from the throne room at the opposite end of the hallway.

  “Wha ... what is going on?” asked the fat minvian.

  “Intruder _ we have one of him,” answered Clover.

  Ray did not even bother to look at the fat minvian, let alone to answer him.

  “In… in… what? Intruder? But this cannot be. No one intrudes on Castle Greenbloom! I.. I mean, this is not Palace Liberty, this is just Castle Green… Are you sure, Minvian Genox!?” mumbled the fat minvian.

  Ray had had about enough of the ‘poor excuse for an officer’ minvian.

  “Up _ wake of this, Minvian Beufall! Commander _ you are of him for this facility, yet you are the most ignorant person here and the most undisciplined and ill-prepared!” shouted Ray disgustedly.

  “Well, it is just that I… erm… I... erm… am not a combat experienced officer. I... erm, have never been in a battle before. I have no idea what to do. What do I do?” confessed the fat minvian while looking from Ray to Clover and back to Ray again.

  “Subordinates _ get yours of these and break them into their rivers and get them to search the castle grounds and surrounding areas; and if you find any intruder, capture or kill that person!” instructed Clover.

  “Break to rivers, search grounds, capture or kill, all right, all right,” mumbled Minvian Beufall.

  “Keep _ we shall search of it, so make sure your subordinates do not enter unless they are commanded to do so by my subordinates or by me,” instructed Ray.

  “Understood, Minvian Iddell. I...erm...best be on my way, then,” said Minvian Beufall and dashed out into the courtyard as best as his over-sized body could.

  Clover did not question Ray’s decision. She knew that Ray had no confidence in Minvian Beufall and his subordinates and did not want them interfering with whatever plans that Ray had in mind. Two Sollenthar streams had then arrived at the hallway of the keep from their temporary barracks.

  “Plan _ master, what is yours of this?” asked Clover.

  “Search _ you shall take 5th Stream and do of this on the ground floor room by room and I shall take 3rd Stream and do the same on the first floor; thereafter we shall meet at the stairways landing on the second floor and search it together,” answered Ray.

  “Understand _ I do of this,” acknowledged Clover.

  Clover led 5th Stream in searching the ground floor while Ray brought the 3rd Stream to the first floor and began their search there.

  Prince Patrum sat in the dimly lit chamber in absolute boredom. Rod, on the other hand, could not be more anxious.

  “We should let them come. I am sick of running and hiding. I am an established warrior. I can handle myself. And my mother is safe and away from here. She should be arriving at Palace Liberty at any moment. It is an insult that I am hiding like this!” exclaimed Prince Patrum indignantly.

  “Respect _ with all due of this, Your Highness, you are the heir to the throne and the people would require your guidance and good governance one day, so it would be a great shame to deprive the good people of Free Falls of a great future leader such as your exalted self,” replied Rod.

  “That is just your polite way of saying that it is your job to keep me alive and that I should just shut up and co-operate, is it not?” challenged Prince Patrum.

  “Wisdom _ Your Highness is as gifted with this as with the battlefield skills,” responded Rod with great diplomacy.

  Prince Patrum slapped his hand down on the armrest in disgust. Contrary to what most Fallsians might have thought, royalties did not get to do whatever they liked. There were always procedures, protocols and ‘expected conducts’ to follow. Sometimes, the prince envied the ordinary Fallsian, who was free from this farce.

  “Why is it that it is acceptable for me to lead a pond, lake or ocean into battle but not to face personally these murderous cowards?” asked the prince rhetorically.

  “Respect _ with all due of this, Your Highness, when you lead a pond, lake or ocean into battle, you are fulfilling your duty and role as a combat leader, political leader and symbol of what Free Falls stands for; whereas here, if you go into battle, it serves nothing but to help these assassins accomplish their goals,” answered Rod, peeking out of hidden slats into the hallway.

  “Ahh! Once again, you have humbled me, Convian Sayson, wit
h your diplomacy and reasoning. So I can fight only if I represent something, symbolise something; but when I am not, then my blood is too precious to be spilt; is that correct?” retorted Prince Patrum.

  “Wisdom _ your Highness is most well endowed with this. Armour _ besides, you are not wearing any of this except for your greaves and vambraces,” responded Rod.

  Prince Patrum opened his mouth to retort, but stopped suddenly. It was then did he realise that what Rod had said was true. The prince was not on duty when the alarm had sounded. He was in casual clothes. And except for the greaves and vambraces, the only other thing he had of military nature with him was his sword. It was at this point that he was glad that his ancestors had made it a rule that greaves, vambraces and swords were to be worn at all times while in casual wear. His ancestors must have had encounters with intruders before, he reasoned.

  Boom!!! A loud explosion echoes throughout the keep. The two ends of the hallway, to which the secret chamber was linked, collapses. A cloud of dust seeps into the chamber, causing everyone to cough violently. Suddenly from the dark opposite end of the chamber, the cold steel of a sharp blade penetrates one of the Sollenthars, and his body stiffens with the pain. His eyes are teary, not from the pain but rather from the dust; but his heart weeps for his soon to be widowed wife and his soon to be orphaned children and his now hollowed promises to them. But the greatest heartache of all, is in knowing that he has failed to be vigilant and now the prince’s life is in danger and there is nothing that he can do about it.

  The second Sollenthar clutches his throat. Precious crimson liquid spurts out of the wound in his throat, made by an Airblade. He crumbles to his knees. But his mind is at rest, though, for he knows he had served his country well and that all his affairs had been settled even before his entry into the military. He also intentionally calms his mind in the hopes of a less torturous death and a better afterlife. His wife and children will be greatly saddened, he thinks; however, he leaves happy knowing that they know full well that he loves them. And finally, before the darkness, cold and void consume him entirely, he smiles knowing the fact that Convian Rod Sayson, Minvian Ray Iddell, Minvian Clover Genox or even Prince Patrum himself will run their cold steel through his murderer’s body and avenge his death. And with this final relinquishment, he glides gently into death.