Legends of Marithia: Book 1 - Prophecies Awakening: Uncut and Extended Second Edition

by Peter Koevari

  “You shouldn’t be here!” reverberated a dark voice that sounded as if it came from all around them.

  Suddenly, Vartan realised what had found them. They had truly ventured too far into the forest this time.

  Shadow demons, he thought.

  His father had warned him about the Forces of Darkness that preyed on innocents in the woods and had no compassion, not even for children. They could move wherever no light shone, and they used the shadows as portals to their realms.

  Vartan heard the sound of leaves rustling all around, and spun on his heel when he heard rough movement behind him.

  “He’s toying with us,” he said, as he turned in all directions, desperately seeking any signs of movement to give away the being’s presence.

  Finn ran toward the darkness with his sword drawn, slashing wildly at the shadows. His tears shone in the moonlight as he screamed, “I’m not afraid of you!”

  “Finn, no!” cried Vartan.

  A shifting figure of darkness slithered out from behind a tree, jerking Finn to a sudden stop mid-jump as it grabbed hold of his frail neck, making it appear that he was suspended in the dark air.

  “Pathetic creatures! You think you can attack me and live to tell the tale?” The demon twisted and threw Finn like a toy doll against the trunk of the oak tree beside them. The sharp and sickening sound of bones snapping filled the air, as the young boy’s body gave way to the rock-hard surface that he hit with full force. Vartan froze, his body like a statue as he watched helplessly. His brother’s now-lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

  Vartan's eyes narrowed and his body shook. “No! Why did you do that? He was just a boy!"

  It seemed a fire began to build inside his body, as though his chest burned with real flames. He felt small sparks of energy surge from his chest and his body felt more alive than ever before. He screamed so ferociously in his overpowering fury that he lost his voice. As he released the arrow from its confinement, both Vartan and the bow flickered with a dark blue light, enchanting the arrow with lightning shards that ripped their way into the air around it. It was only then, as the dark woods were forced into light, that Vartan had his first true view of the demon. Its skin rippled and flowed so rapidly that Vartan’s eyes struggled to find its features.

  The arrow immediately found its target, and exploded with immense power as it struck the centre of the demon. The resulting explosion set the surrounding trees alight like giant candles, removing all shadow and darkness from around them. With no means of escape, the demon howled with pain as it slowly dissolved, piece by piece, into nothingness.

  It dragged its decaying body along the ground toward Vartan. A loud hiss erupted from the demon as it dropped into the forest floor.

  “Just die!” cried Vartan, dropping to his knees beside his brother’s broken body.

  Using his last ounce of strength, he dragged Finn’s body away from the oak. Moments later, a burning branch landed heavily in its place. Vartan’s vision blurred as his anger gave way to his grief. Tears of pain blanketed his eyes, and he sobbed uselessly. Suddenly he was completely overcome with weakness, so physically drained, that he collapsed onto the dirty forest floor next to his little brother. He couldn’t move a muscle in reaction even as the faint but crescendo of galloping hooves reached his ears.

  “There they are! Down by the burning trees! We’ve found them!” yelled Leon to the horsemen trailing behind him.

  “Wha... What has happened? No! Finn!” cried Leon desperately, his voice wavering.

  Vartan parted his lips and he whispered weakly, “Father, I couldn’t save him. I failed him... I... Demon... sorry...”

  Strong arms lifted his body off the ground as if he was as light as a feather. Vartan finally closed his eyes and drifted away into sleep's deep embrace.

  Vartan found himself standing in a well-lit cavern. He brought his hands to his face and his spine tingled. Something did not feel right. It was as if he hovered above the ground in a dream of some kind.

  “Where am I? Have I died and gone to the realm of the gods?” he asked. His voice echoed through the endless underground tunnels laden with a kaleidoscope of crystals and diamonds.

  He squinted as the blurry figure of a man appeared, standing atop a mound in the cavern floor. “Far from it. More importantly, child, what you should be asking yourself is, ‘Who am I?’” The image of the man flickered as it spoke. “You are not yet trained in the ancient arts of magic, Vartan, and you are far too young to have cast the spell of Sky’s Wrath without the proper training to control it. Many paths lay before you, and there are many challenges which you alone must overcome before we meet again."

  “Magic, training, paths—what are you talking about? Finn - my little brother - I failed to save his life, and it’s all my fault!” cried Vartan.

  “You really do not know, then? Who you are? Why you are here? That is an interesting conundrum. Your brother chose his own path, Vartan, but you should ease your conscience with the knowledge that he has passed into the afterlife and will be born again."

  “Born again? What does that mean?” asked Vartan desperately.

  “That was his fate, and you are fortunate to remain in a position to choose your own. It is with the luck of the gods that you will wake again, as the amount of magic that you unleashed could dispatch the uninitiated from Marithia - or from any other world, for that matter. When the time is right, we will meet again. Until that time, we will watch you from afar. We will have much more to discuss then."

  “Who are you? What are you? How will I know who you are when we meet again?” asked Vartan.

  The figure let out an immense laugh that sent a few stalactites smashing into the ground. “You are not the only creature that is able to use magic, Vartan. I am Karven. I am to my kind what your kings are to yours. You are not yet prepared, or anywhere near ready, to handle all of the answers I am able to provide; But at the very least, I owe you a proper introduction."

  The figure of the man suddenly vanished with a flash. Vartan watched in wonder as a large reptilian tail slowly appeared at the bottom of the mound, covered in dark red scales that shimmered with many colours in the light. Each scale continued to change until mighty Karven’s gigantic body revealed itself. He spread his great wings, and breathed out searing breath that melted the ice around the cavern.

  The dragon king's voice filled the caverns. “So you see, young Vartan, you will never need question who or what I am when we meet. But I need you to understand that if you utter a word of our existence, no human or elf will believe your words, and you risk the destruction of us all. Now you must awaken!”

  Awaken? Am I dreaming all of this? thought Vartan.

  Karven chanted the words “Mens agitat molem,” and the spell immediately began to take effect. Vartan felt a flow of magic wash over him like a bucket of icy water, and his soul was pulled back into his body at the speed of light.

  The horses came to a sudden halt beside the farm, under the pale white glow of the moon. A cheerful Victoria ran to open the door with a lantern in her grip, welcoming her family home with a warm smile. Her voice rang with love. "Thank the gods you found them my love, come inside and out of the cold..."

  Suddenly her face paled as if she had seen a ghost, and she stared at him with eyes stripped of life, appearing frozen in time. The words escaped her lips with a whisper. "Where are our children?"

  Leon stood his ground, with Vartan lying unconscious in his arms. A faint fog of breath escaped their eldest son's lungs, and Victoria sobbed a sigh of relief.

  Standing up straight and blinking her watery eyes, her voice broke as she asked, "And what of little Finn? Where is he?"

  The horsemen carried the boy's broken and bloodied body by the arms and legs, carefully placing him on the ground beside Leon's feet. They nodded respectfully and as they left for their horses, the nearest man whispered, "I am terribly sorry for your loss."

  The breaking of the lantern's glass on the ground
made Leon wince before his wife’s cries reached his ears and tore through his heart. Walking past his sobbing wife, his eyes blurred with his own tears. He carried Vartan to his room and placed him down, carefully, on his bed, covering him with a warm blanket.

  Walking with heavy steps, he spoke softly as he returned outside to find his wife. "Victoria... I..."

  She knelt in the dirt with her son lying in her arms. She looked up at him and her lips quivered as she wailed, "Like this? Was he fated to die like this?"

  Leon approached slowly, clutching the wooden carving of a knight on horseback in his clenched fist. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he took them both in his arms and held them tight.

  Chapter 3: Darkness Falls

  “Like moths to a flame, both young and old journey to my tower. They seek my powers to satisfy the many needs of mortals, and I do not ask any of them for their reasons, but the price of blood must always be paid.

  Some consider me as a bad influence, but I prefer to see myself as indifferent. To define an act as good or evil is solely to see an action from one perspective or another. A mortal who kills another in the act of vengeance is branded a murderer, but a mortal who kills another in the heat of battle is celebrated as a hero.”

  (Queen Kassina of the Underworld)

  It was nearing nightfall and the familiar chirping of birds to welcome the moon had been silenced. The walls darkened to a shadowy grey with the dimming of the sun. A storm gathered on the horizon, erupting in the distance. As lightning crashed into the earth, a gale of wind was blowing its ominous clouds inexorably in the direction of Greenhaven.

  The sounds of laughter, music and drinking were heard from the great city’s many taverns. In many respects, the city came alive at night, and the many food stalls and street entertainers made for a relaxing evening. From the clouds above, it was as if Greenhaven were a swarm of yellow-lit fireflies, interspersed with occasional red embers signaling the brothels of the city.

  Arman’s royal bedchambers were built inside the largest of the city’s turrets, and from this one spacious room’s balcony he could oversee Greenhaven and the surrounding lands in any direction that he pleased. He stared into the darkness, the lights twinkling in the reflection in his eyes, and he appeared more like a ghost than a man.

  Andrielle was puzzled by the banishment of Vartan, as she had never known him to deceive his king. The queen knew that something was wrong, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Her footsteps almost silent with her approach, she spoke softly from behind the king. “Arman, my love, what happened today? I am worried about you. Vartan had no reason to lie to you. He was obviously hurt by the bandits he fought off to protect our daughter. I fear you may have left yourself unguarded without him nearby.” She laid a soft hand on his arm. “Are you certain beyond all doubt that the right decision was made today to banish him?”

  He turned to lay a gentle kiss on her lips and took her body so tightly in his arms that he could feel her heartbeat pound against his chest. He looked her deep in the eyes. “Yes, of course I am certain. You never need to fear my judgement, for there is nothing in this life that I do without good reason. No matter what may happen to us, I want you to know that I love you dearly. But if anything were to happen to either of us, then the others would never be safe in Greenhaven.” Arman breathed in to let out a heavy sigh. “I put an escape plan in place with the guards long ago. Promise me that you will flee Greenhaven if the need arises. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

  The king continued to stare into her eyes, desperately searching for an answer within.

  “Arman, why do you speak of this? What's wrong?” she asked, her furrowed brow revealing her concern.

  The king looked away from her gaze and his eyes danced around the floor as he answered with a strained voice. “I have to consider all possibilities, and to protect our family. I just need to know that you would be safe, as I would never take an attack on any of us lightly. Just promise me, Andrielle— please allow me this simple request."

  “Of course, Arman. I give you my word,” she replied softly.

  He smiled, relaxed his shoulders, and turned back to the view of the impending storm on the horizon, which swiftly gained ground like a charging stallion. It was as if some force dragged the storm forward at an unusually rapid pace.

  “I cannot recall much of earlier events today, and I grow tired. I may be falling ill, as it feels as if a cloud fills my mind when I try to remember what happened in the throne room. Tomorrow I shall seek a healer. For today, I suggest you enjoy a hot bath for the evening, and I shall eagerly await your return. I need some time alone to regain my thoughts.”

  “As you wish, my love,” she replied. She suddenly realised she had been digging her fingernails into her palm and thought, Maybe he's right about that bath.

  She walked out of the door to the arm of a servant who waited to escort her to the bathing chambers. Arman waited patiently until he could no longer hear the sounds of footsteps down the tower’s stairs, and he gazed further into the horizon. The flashes of lightning were soon followed by loud, growling rumbles. With another flash, he swore he saw dark eyes in the clouds staring back at him. But with the next, they were gone.

  Arman shook his head in confusion and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I really must be losing my mind,” he whispered to himself. The cool, moist breeze whipped past his face, and his long hair fluttered behind his head. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then reopened them with a determined gaze.

  Arman spoke loudly and firmly into the night. “I know you are there. Do you really consider me a fool who would ignore a warning from my most trusted knight? You know so little and yet you act as if you have it all figured out. I know what you seek to gain, but you should know this, young prince—that you will need to cross swords to take it from me! This day has been playing on my mind for many years now.” He wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt of his gleaming sword, his stance holding strongly in the winds. “I don’t want to live my life in the fear of what daggers may be pushed into my back, or spend every waking moment looking over my shoulder. Do you even have the guts to face me? Or did I create nothing more than a cowardly, spoiled brat?”

  He held his sword firm for a few moments, the sounds of wind and rumbles in the distance his only answer.

  Suddenly a too familiar voice cut through the cold air. “You knew I would wait here? I should have given you more credit, Father. You believed Vartan and banished him? Why would you do that? Never mind as you did me a favour by taking him out of the picture and it just further proves you are weak and unfit to rule. You should know that nothing you say to me will change the fact that you will die here tonight. Greenhaven will be mine, and a new age will begin. I will rule the city of Greenhaven as their new king!”

  The prince walked a few steps around the turret’s balcony, his sword already drawn and held by his side. By now, the storm had barrelled down the mountainside and was only moments away from inundating an unprepared Greenhaven. Arman's face hardened as he turned purposefully to face Derian and slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. Its hilt glistened as the moonlight reflected off the diamonds embedded in its surface. "If you even have a shred of my courage inside you, stop wasting my time."

  The prince screamed as he charged at his father and attacked him wildly with his sword. Each thrust was blocked solidly and effortlessly by his father’s blade. The sheer force of the attack pushed Arman back around the tower balcony as sparks flew angrily into the air between them, neither sword finding flesh. Momentarily distanced, they both stared with hatred and determination into each other’s eyes. Arman spat at the ground between them. "What did you think would happen? Did you expect me to just give up?"

  Derian stared silently, not moving a muscle.

  As though it had angered the gods, Greenhaven was suddenly engulfed by the storm. Sharp crashes of thunder and vicious arcs of lightning erupted all around the
city as its people ran to shelter. Sounds of panic rose around them. Water fell heavily from the skies and their skins were blasted with tiny shards of ice, and the clouds blotted out the moon, casting the city into darkness.

  A flash of lightning revealed Derian’s second attack as he sprang off the turret wall to bring his sword plummeting down. Arman dropped to one knee, held his blade flat with two hands and thrust upwards to deflect the blow. Derian was sent reeling. As both men neared exhaustion, a bolt of lightning struck the wall between them and knocked them roughly onto their backs.

  “Did you really think it would be that easy to just take the throne? You stupid child!” Arman cried.

  The king struggled to his feet and again steadied his sword, lunging forward with all his strength to meet his son's weakly held weapon. Derian growled with annoyance and swung his sword as hard as he could in a circular motion over his head. Arman quickly stepped aside to avoid the blow and responded by smashing his fist into Derian’s nose, temporarily blinding him as his eyes filled with tears. Arman used the element of surprise to his advantage and thrust his sword with both hands to land deep into Derian’s stomach.

  “It ends here,” said the king.

  Another flash of lightning revealed blood, splattered onto the ground from Derian’s wound. The blood had begun to curdle, and eat its way into the stone’s surface. The dark sound of laughter suddenly erupted from Derian’s lips. “You foolish old man! I am immortal,” he spat with a blood-soaked mouth.

  Arman's eyes widened as he laid his eyes on his son’s true form. With another flash of lightning, he saw the bite marks on the prince’s pale neck. The scars of his visit to the sorceress’s tower were now clear as daylight on his skin. With fangs that gleamed in the torchlight, grey skin, claws and eyes which shone crimson red… he knew that he had misjudged Derian completely. As Derian had only suffered a stomach wound, Arman knew that he was still in grave danger. Vampires can only be killed by a wound through the heart, being burned to death or beheading.