James felt a hand upon his shoulder and turned to see one of the Royal Elite Guards behind him. “Begging your pardon Sire, your father requests you move indoors for your safety.” James felt a little disappointed. He had almost hoped that at least one of the beasts would have made a move to attack so he could have shown off his skills. Alas, it was not meant to be, and not one to disobey his father, the crown prince rather sullenly followed the guard down the stone steps that led up to the battlements.
As the pair of them walked along what was usually a busy street, now seemingly bereft of many people at all, James felt a strange feeling. A chill, or something else, he wasn’t sure, but it felt like death himself had just crawled over him. The guard with him seemed unperturbed, and after looking up to check if the flying creatures were still there, he thought they seemed to be leaving. Returning his gaze forward he caught sight of something odd, a dark shadow lurking in the side street. Was somebody watching him?
James called to the soldier just a few paces ahead and suggested they check it out. Although the guard obviously did not wish to delay returning the prince to his family, he drew his sword and walked beside him nonetheless. James slowed his step, holding his sword out just in case whatever was lurking in the shadow was not friendly.
The dark figure did not appear to move, so James and the guard moved a little closer. “Show yourself!” the guard shouted over. Both remained completely still as a dark ghostly figure drifted over towards them. The guard lunged his sword out, before slashing across the shape but it merely went straight through the figure as if it were not even there. James stepped back as a face appeared within the mist and looked directly at him. He held its gaze for a few seconds, thinking of turning and running, but by the time he had made up his mind the dark figure was gone, vanished into thin air.
“What the bloody hell was that?” the guard asked looking completely dumbfounded as to what had just happened.
“I have absolutely no idea,” James replied letting his sword arm hang loosely at his side.
“I think we should get you inside as quickly as we can Sire!” The guard said suddenly remembering what he had been tasked with. James did not disagree and even suggested they pick up the pace a little and jog back to the palace.
Once through the gate, the crown prince was swarmed on by Elite guards, gathering around him as if he were suddenly in more danger. He did not argue but thought that perhaps the gesture might have been a little more needed several minutes earlier. As he was ushered through the main entrance and into the grand hallway of the palace, he was immediately spotted by his father, who ran straight towards him. “Ah James, you’re safe.”
The prince just nodded, and although he wanted to speak to someone about the ghostly figure he felt his father was probably not that person.
After reassuring his father that he was indeed unharmed, the prince was then allowed to continue up the broad elegantly staircase which led to the private rooms of the royal family. Each step was laid with plush red carpet and kept immaculately clean. The hand rails either side were carved and gilded with gold scrolling patterns along the length giving it an almost metallic appearance.
At the top, the stairs split left and right onto two separate landings, both home to large portraits of his ancestors, both of whom had been king although both apparently hundreds of years ago. James had looked at the pictures many times before, and while he thought one of the men depicted looked a little like his father, the other could well have been anybody, as he thought it showed no resemblance to his family members at all.
Taking the right-hand side landing, James strode quickly taking larger than usual steps, although not heading to his quarters as his bodyguard had expected him to do. Instead, he sought out the man who taught him history, who was now quite old and allowed one of the smaller suites in the royal house as gratitude for so many years service. Alim was in fact so old, he had even taught James’ father when he had been a boy and was now actually thought of like a family friend and not just a tutor to the Royals.
Unsurprisingly, James found the old man stood beside one of the many bookcases that lined his room. On seeing who it was entering, Alim welcomed him in and to take a seat. “What do I owe this pleasure young James, I thought my lessons with you had all but ceased,” the man said chuckling to himself as he tottered over to a chair. James went to assist the man walking, but Alim waved his help away, “I’m okay boy, just a little slower than I used to be.”
James waited for Alim to take his seat and get comfortable before explaining the purpose of his unexpected visit. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Alim asked shuffling as if to stand again, despite only having just sat down. “No, I am fine, thank you Alim, although I’ll make you a cup if you wish?” James asked.
Alim waved a hand, “No I am fine, come on sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”
James sat in a cushioned chair just opposite his former tutor, pausing a few moments to think of what he was going to say. He firstly updated Alim on the strange creatures that had appeared above the city, although they had never attacked. “I think they were some kind of flying balgraf,” James said looking at the older man for any kind of reaction. Alim nodded and confirmed he had the bells ringing, but confessed that in all his years he had never heard of a flying creature of the darkness.
“Not even in your history books?” James asked just to verify.
Alim shook his head, “Not that I’ve ever seen. Strange indeed, and somewhat worrying in a way.”
The Prince asked Alim’s opinion on why he thought that was the case, just to see if it matched his own. The old man confirmed what James had already thought, in that if the darkness could now strike deep into human lands unopposed, it would mean having to divide their forces up further. Not only would they need to police the troubling Orc problem, reinforce the elven outposts but now have to protect an area so large that they would never manage to defend it all.
“I mean,” Alim said gesticulating with his hands as he used to do in his lessons. “These flying balgraf could strike any town or village, not all have garrisons of soldiers to protect them.”
“Lambs to the slaughter!” James mumbled nodding his head, a sobering thought indeed. The old man looked at his former pupil, “Yet that is not the purpose of your visit is it?”
James smiled, “No Alim it is not. I have just witnessed something strange, dark and I am hoping you might be able to tell me what it was.”
Alim leant forward a little in his chair as James described the situation, building up the picture in the old man’s mind. He explained how he had felt a chill as if death himself had walked right over him. A dark swirling mist and a face of man within it staring him straight in the eyes, before vanishing into thin air.
“Did anyone else see this?”
“Just one of the guards I was with, although the figure only appeared before me. Well, I think so,” James added already beginning to doubt his own thoughts.
Alim stood from his seat, and after pulling a face which indicated in doing so had caused him a little pain, he shuffled his feet over to one of the bookcases that lined the far wall. James stood and positioned himself alongside, “What is it you’re after Alim?” he asked.
“Hmmm. Where is it?” the old man mumbled to himself running his boney finger along a row of books, tapping the spine of each as he went.
“Ah! Got you.” He said finally grabbing hold of what James considered a very small book.
Alim moved over to the window that lit up his room, before rapidly flicking through several of the pages in the book. “Here it is,” he exclaimed turning the book and showing James a rather crudely drawn picture. While the author of the book may not have managed an exact likeness, James could tell what it was he was depicting.
“Read that bit there,” Alim asked him pointing to a paragraph just below the picture.
James mumbled the words as he read, and when he had finished stood there in silence. “Abalyon!”
he eventually said sounding uncertain he believed what his former tutor was implying.
“You think I saw Abalyon?”
Alim nodded, “Does it match the description in the book?”
James nodded back, “Yes, almost a little too perfectly.”
“But why of all the people in the world did he single you out?” Alim asked slowly taking the book of his former pupil and putting it back in its original place on the bookshelf.
“James!” Alim said calling the prince by his first name as opposed to any title. “Promise me you will be careful. Do not wander about alone outside. If Abalyon is watching you, then he is doing so for a reason.”
James nodded his understanding, and although he hoped Alim was wrong in his assessment, he agreed to be far more vigilant in future.
“I mean it, James. Your father has enough on his plate at the moment without having to worry about this,” Alim added, reiterating the point again.
James thought that much was certainly true. Aside from breakfast time, he barely saw his father these days, with so many meetings to attend and problems to sort.
James bid the old man farewell, reassuring him that he would be careful where he went and that if he did need to venture outside, he would make sure he was not alone. While his promise appeared to placate Alim, the young prince was already working on the principal that this was likely to be out of his control. If he had indeed seen Abalyon, the former God and Creator of the Trolls, Destroyer of Lands, Leader of the Darkness, plus any number of names he had been given over the centuries, then there would be little he could do stop it happening again. Surely a god, even a deposed one could do pretty much what he wanted and move anywhere he wished?
The prince received more than a few stern words when he finally made his way back to the Royal Quarters. His mother and father were visibly cross he had not gone straight back there when asked, and as a result, James was forced to offer a rather humble apology. Rather than say where he had actually been, the prince heeded Alim’s words and decided not to trouble his father any more than he clearly already was. Instead of saying he had just discovered that Abalyon himself had appeared in the city, he told them that he had been intrigued by the flying creatures. Hence, he had ventured up onto the roof to get a clearer view.
“Foolish boy!” his father snapped. “You put yourself in grave danger being up there alone.”
“Sorry, Father!” James said again, trying to sound as sincere as he possibly could.
“I want at least two guards with everyone now. Wherever you go,” Willem said pointing to each of his children and his wife.
James could tell his father was feeling the strain of leadership. Over the past few weeks, it had begun to show much more, although he could not think of a way to help him. Was this the future that awaited him? Although a rather morose thought occurred in that if the darkness were on the warpath again, would there even be a future for any of them?
Suitably scolded, the prince decided to go back to his room. Probably larger than most boy’s bedrooms it was unsurprisingly filled with expensive items, as would only be expected for the future king. Plush carpet underfoot, silken sheets on his bed, and velvet drapes hanging from windows that went from floor to ceiling giving a view out on to the beautifully kept gardens at the rear of the palace. There were two truly massive wardrobes, full of elegantly made clothes ranging from his everyday wear to dinner clothes and even several uniforms for military parades.
However, one item took pride of place, and it was kept in a glass case along the far wall. Sat on a simple wooden stand was a sword, although not just any blade. This weapon was allegedly very unique, and something that had been handed down from father to son for countless generations. While, his own father, did not particularly believe such a simple looking blade could possibly be as special as legend suggested, James liked to think it was true.
The sword in question was about two feet in length, with a dark metal blade, which in itself made it look very different to any normal one. The hilt was polished steel and bound with dark leather, although James was unsure as to whether this could possibly be the original binding if the sword were as old as it was alleged.
Legend had it that this particular blade was forged by dragon fire, made for the kings of men by their god and creator. As far as the myth went, the sword was imbued with magic and used by the first magicians created by the divinities to combat all evils. However, James had taken the sword out many times and given it a swing around, although nothing untoward had ever happened. The blade was not even that sharp, nor was the tip, and he doubted it would be capable of causing anything any serious injury even he wanted it to.
While his father thought the blade nothing more than a piece of metal passed down with a fairy story to go with it, James still thought there must be something more to it than that. As Alim had explained to him once when he was younger, even fairy stories and myths must have originated from somewhere, and perhaps there was some truth to all of them.
The reason James believed more in the story of the blade than his father though was because of a picture he had discovered in the cellars of the palace. Now hung on his wall, it was about two feet square and evidently very old. After having it cleaned up, he had discovered the picture buried under the years of grime showed something fascinating. Depicting a battle long ago, he could make out the armies of men, elves, orcs, dwarfs and even trolls, all surrounded by a plague of dark beasts. Standing at the centre of them all was a single figure, with a hood over his head covering his face from view, but holding aloft a sword pointing it to the heavens. The blade then showed streams of lightning being emitted from it as if being powered by some greater godly force. It was this sword that James thought looked very much like the one in the glass case, and although he had pointed it out to his father, the man had merely laughed it off as another myth.
Chapter 23.
Galdrac and Mazen had spent the morning watching the strange looking building for signs of movement. Having tracked Leyna’s scent to this location using the druid’s hound, they now had to try and figure how to get in. Of all the buildings in the world to use, it appeared Abalyon had been ingenious in making his choice.
Standing over forty feet in height, the only way in or out seemed to be a single opening. The problem being was that very opening was twenty feet up from the ground level, and usually accessed by a kind of lift. However, as this building had not been used for some time, that lift was apparently no longer in existence. Built as a fort hundreds of years ago, it had been used as a watch tower for the dwarfs during an earlier age.
“We dwarfs, build our structures to last,” Mazen told Galdrac.
“Yes I can see, but that is not helping us is it. Pity you dwarfs didn’t build your lifts to last as long,” he replied with a certain amount of sarcasm in his voice. Galdrac was not a fan of Mazen, despite the druid helping him get this far. The longer the two of them tried to figure out how to get in, the more likelihood of Abalyon using Leyna to seek to sway the mind of Finley over to his side. Stating the obvious every two minutes was not helping, and Galdrac was becoming increasingly annoyed with him.
“Look. There!” Mazen suddenly said pointing up into the sky. At first, Galdrac was not even going to bother but thought as he had little else to do, he may as well do. The dwarf had spotted dozens of the flying balgraf circling above the building before swooping down and entering through the very same doorway they were trying to figure a way of entering.
“Well at least we know how they get in,” Galdrac said. “Are you sure there are not some kind of tunnels leading in. You lot are always digging tunnels,” he added looking to the druid for a positive response. Mazen just shrugged, and although there may well be such things in existence, he did not know where to start looking for the entrance even if they did.
“Some bloody use you are!” Galdrac mumbled under his breath.
The mage watched a while as the flying balgraf lifted more of their usual kin
d into the doorway. Abalyon, it seemed was defending this building and had no intention of letting anybody inside. He had counted at least a score of balgraf going inside, and if that were the case, even if he could find a way in, it would be unlikely he would get very far. Little short of him growing wings and amassing a small army, the chances of rescuing Leyna looked slim indeed.
“I thought you said your halfbreed friend was getting a dragon?” Mazen said as he bit into a large leg of meat. Galdrac wondered where the dwarf kept getting all his food from, but more to the point, why he kept talking and irritating him.
“You know he is, I told you that about five times already,” he snapped back.
Whether Mazen took offence to Galdrac’s remarks was unclear, but if he did, then the dwarf certainly didn’t show it.
“Well the last time I checked, dragons could fly,” the dwarf then added before taking another big bite of meat, ripping the flesh from the bone.
“Well, of course, they can fly you dimwit…” Galdrac left the sentence unfinished as he realised he was the one being an idiot.
He quickly got to his feet. “Come on, we don’t have time to sit around stuffing our fat faces. We have a dragon to find,” he said giving Mazen a small kick.
“I assume your mutt can find a dragon?”
Mazen looked up at the old mage, suddenly looking a little hurt by the remark. “Mock me if you must. Do not doubt the skill of my animals,” he replied tossing the joint of meat out into the bushes and getting to his feet. After wiping his greasy hands on his cloak and his mouth on his sleeve, the dwarf gave out a loud belch before picking up his pack.
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