by K. Dzr
* * * * *
Tahir sat on the window ledge in the royal bed chamber, giving Destiny some privacy with her Father. He could feel her anger and frustration building. While in Asymptier, she decided to no longer constrain her wings, nor wear the body paint that concealed her pale lilac skin. Since returning to England, she donned her old costume for her father’s sake. But it could neither conceal her power nor contain her magic, which seemed to grow stronger with negative emotions. Though she never showed any obvious signs of anger through expressions or actions, it was easy for Tahir to sense. A year ago, he hadn’t even noticed it, but now it was unmistakable; it radiated off of her like heat from a fire.
Tahir stared out at the storm developing to the east. Occasionally he saw a flicker of lightening. Rather than stretching across the sky, the storm clouds were amassing in one spot, growing larger and blacker. It was peculiar that without clouds anywhere else in the sky, mid-day was as dark as dust.
Tahir turned his gaze to King Robert and Destiny. She sat beside the bed holding his hand and watching him struggle to breathe. She didn’t even seem to notice the unnatural storm that had been brewing over the last few days. Nor did she express concern about how to deal with Artemisios.
Tahir was worried enough for both of them. He was quite antsy, and decided it best if he met up with Oraden and the others to investigate the storm. There was nothing he could do for Robert or Destiny. He hopped down from the window and crossed the room to kiss her forehead, letting her know he was leaving. As he expected, she barely acknowledged him as he left the room.
“Tahir!” Francis stopped him in the corridor. “How are they?”
“I’m not sure. His Majesty seems to be…”
“We haven’t had much time to talk have we?” Francis asked, with a cold stare.
“No.”
“Join me then.” Francis led Tahir to a meeting room both he and Robert used for conducting business and affairs of the kingdom. He sat at a large, ornate desk, shuffled through some documents, scribbled quickly, sealed them and organized them into piles.
Tahir stood near the doorway and watched Francis work for a few moments. Although he was courteous and polite, Francis always seemed so cold. He showed little concern with the King’s failing health, and he was unwelcoming and unsympathetic toward Destiny. He offered them rooms in the castle and ordered his servants to make them comfortable, but maintained his distance. When he encountered any of them, Demetrius, Alexander and Kraven included, he gave them an icy, judgmental stare: they were disgusting nuisances he was forced to tolerate. The three wizards were not intimidated, or even bothered by him, but Meelix and Tahir preferred to stay out of his way. Oraden and Ellic simply stayed out of the castle altogether.
“You seem quite concerned about my father’s health,” Francis stated. “Why is that?”
“Your father is a generous and merciful ruler. When I arrived here from a faraway land, King Robert was very kind to me and my companions. I’m indebted to him forever.”
“And where is it that you are from?”
“Northern Africa.”
Francis set down his pen and eyed Tahir suspiciously.
“You see, Tahir. You are putting me in quite a predicament. We are at war with people like you.”
“People like…me?” Tahir repeated, not sure what Francis was getting at.
“Yes, like you. People who have stolen land that is rightfully ours. Dark-skinned men from the desert. Muslims. Barbarians who have already conquered Spain and now move north.” Francis rose from his seat and slammed his book on the desk. He circled Tahir.
“Why did you say you came here?”
“I came here seeking adventure, hoping to become a knight. I know nothing of whatever war you may be fighting.”
“So, I am to believe that a moor boy travels across the world, to become one of our knights in a crusade against his own people?” Francis laughed. “You must think me a fool!”
“Crusade?” Tahir’s mind raced. His childhood. His village. Gavin mentioned it may have been crusaders who destroyed it. “The crusaders are knights? But…I thought they are supposed to protect people…”
“You’ve never heard of the Knights Templar? Either you are truly stupid or you think I am.”
Tahir ran his hands over his face in disbelief. Of course he’s heard of them, they were some of the strongest and most respected knights in the land. He just never made the connection. Why hadn’t he thought it through? For as long as he could remember, he’d been glorifying the very people who destroyed his village and killed his mother?
His face distorted with anger and blood rushed to his head. He was only vaguely aware of Francis talking; his racing pulse pounded in his ears. Before he realized what was happening, several guards grabbed him and threw chains around him. Flustered and enraged, he couldn’t concentrate enough to use his magic. He fought like a wild animal. The guards beat him over the head until he fell unconscious. His limp body banged against the stone floor of the fortress as they dragged him down to the torture chamber. Francis returned to his paperwork.
By the time Francis made his way to Tahir, he was stripped of his weapons and most of his clothes. His hands were bound by manacles which cut into his wrists as he hung from the ceiling. The weight of his unconscious body pulled at the joints in his shoulders.
“Wake him,” Francis commanded. One of the guards doused Tahir with a bucket of cold water and repeatedly slapped his face.
Tahir shook his head, blinked the water from his eyes, and ignored the pain radiating from the back of his head. In the dim light he tried to make out where he was.
“I don’t believe your ridiculous lies for one minute,” Francis eyed him with disgust as he circled the suspended body. “Tell me what I want to know. Now!”
Tahir’s fists and jaws clenched. “I don’t have whatever information you’re after.”
“Ten lashes,” Francis commanded.
The words barely left his mouth when the sting of the whip cut into Tahir’s back. He twisted and jerked as his tormenter cracked the whip over and over.
After the ten lashes, Francis questioned Tahir again and got the same answer. He nodded to the guard and stepped back. A corner of his lips curved up as Tahir screamed and writhed. The flogging continued until the flesh had been sheared away and the screams stopped. No longer entertained, Francis ordered him cut down and locked in the dungeon to await his next punishment.
He was again dragged across the coarse ground, this time leaving a trail of blood. They dropped a heavy log across his shoulders and chained his torn wrists to the wood before they threw him into the cell. Weakened by the flagellation, and unable to catch himself with his hands, he crashed onto the stone floor chest first. They locked the cell and walked away laughing, leaving him gasping for air.
Tahir thought he would die in the time it took before he could breathe with any semblance of normalcy. The darkness, the blood and sweat in his eyes, prevented him from seeing anything in the dank dungeon. He could hear the pattering of rats scurrying across the floor. It was only a matter of time before the scent of his blood drew them closer. Carefully, slowly pushing through the agony, he struggled to sit up. With each try, the unfinished wood scraped against his open wounds; the pain froze him to the spot. He gave up. The weight and awkwardness of the log made it difficult even without the pain. He rested his head on the cold floor and willed himself invisible. Hopefully, that would at least keep the rats away.
His thoughts drifted back to the day that forever changed his life. Once again he was trapped in darkness, struggling to breathe, surrounded by the stench of blood and death. All these years, practically his entire life, he unknowingly dreamed of becoming one of the people who destroyed his home, killed his mother. In his haste to fulfill his stupid destiny, he hadn’t even bothered to give her a proper burial; just left her there for the birds and rodents to devour. Now here he was, back where it all started. He deserved no better.
For the first time since the day Alexander freed him from the rubble, he cried in great, gulping sobs, surrendering under the weight of grief, shame, and pain. He drifted in and out of consciousness, crying anew every time he confronted the truth that his despair was of his own making, that he was reaping the consequences of his misguided search for heroics.
Why didn’t he know? Why didn’t anyone tell him? Alexander knew, so did Demetrius and Kraven. They probably watched it all happen. Li’Ang probably led the crusaders to his village and intentionally killed his mother so they could use him as they wished. What else could explain why he was the only person to survive?
He woke with a start. Everyone knew, even Gavin and Destiny, but no one ever said a word. His sorrow gave way to anger. They let him go about his foolish quest, all the while becoming a traitor against his own people. For one horrible moment, he even questioned how much Oraden and the sprites knew. But no, they were the only ones he could trust. They had no way of knowing; they lived isolated from humanity. Humanity. The irony made him laugh and he coughed up blood.
The others had no excuse. They would pay for their deception. He would not die in this dungeon. One way or another he would escape and get answers. He stewed in his anger until he fell asleep.
Late that night, Tahir was awaken by someone slapping his face and calling his name. His head throbbed, he was disoriented; he tried to stand but was soon reminded that he was chained to a log.
“Is that you Tahir? Are you alive?” Meelix shook him as hard as he could, not sure if he was dead or unconscious. “It’s not bad enough that it’s darker than night in here; do you have to be invisible, too?” The gnome ran to fetch the metal container of water from the corner of the cell.
“Here, drink this,” he ordered, raising it to where he thought Tahir’s lips were. “Do you hear me?”
Tahir let down his cloak of invisibility and reluctantly sipped the slimy water. “Yes, Meelix, I’m alive. Francis thinks I’m a traitor. He’s right. I am a traitor.”
“Traitor? What are you talking about?” Meelix inspected the source of the blood flowing down Tahir’s neck. “This looks pretty bad, Tahir—good fairies! What happened? It looks like a dragon ripped your back apart!”
“My village. They did it. All this time, Meelix, all this time…I’ve been a fool.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m getting you out of here. Hold on, I’ll return.”
Meelix slipped back through the bars the same way he entered. Whatever was going on, he decided it best to remain unseen. His feet barely touched stone as he ran up the winding stairs to the main floor, scaled the wall and escaped out the tiny window he had come through. Someone so small could easily be overlooked in the busy castle. Even when he wasn’t trying to be unseen, people rarely paid him any attention. He crossed the castle grounds, darting behind shrubbery, and then raced back to the forest. He whistled sharply. Within moments, Oraden and Ellic appeared before him.
“Did you find him?” they both asked.
“Yes, he’s locked up in the dungeon. I don’t know what happened, but maybe Destiny can get him out. Ellic, I need you to fly me up to the King’s window,” He pointed to the window, softly illuminated by candlelight.
Ellic agreed and the two left Oraden waiting in the forest for their return. Ellic hovered at the window and they cautiously peeked in. Seeing no one but Destiny and the ill King, both asleep, they silently entered. Meelix dismounted and climbed up Destiny’s chair while Ellic hurried to the door to stand guard. She snaked her head out, looking back and forth, not quite sure what to look out for. She just assumed if she saw anyone, it was bad.
“Lady Destiny, wake up!” Meelix whispered, nudging her arm. “Destiny?”
“What’s wrong, Meelix?” she yawned.
“It’s Tahir. He’s been hurt. They locked him in the dungeon!”
“What? Who did this?” she was wide awake now.
“I don’t know. Can you free him?”
“Of course! Come!” She quickly rose and marched past Ellic, with Meelix running to keep up. The three hurried through the castle and down to the dungeon where two guards stood watch.
“Open the door,” she commanded.
One guard quickly retrieved a key and unlocked the door. They descended the flight of stairs to find Tahir still chained up in his cell. She ran to the cell and flung the door open with a wave of her hand. With a nod, the chains fell to the ground and the log flew into the wall, setting Tahir free.
“What happened? Who did this?” she asked as she knelt beside him to examine his injuries.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he jerked away from her with tears in his eyes.
“Tell you what?”
“About my village! Did you think I’d never find out?”
“Find out what?” she yelled, rising to her feet. “I’ve spent the last three days with my father. You know that. What are you talking about?”
“It was Francis!” he yelled back, struggling to his feet. He used the wall to support himself as he walked the perimeter of the cell. “Francis and his army invaded my village! Killed my mother! When we met, I told you this happened and you—you didn’t say a word!”
“What? That’s not possible!”
“He had me arrested because he thinks I’m a spy! He told me. He said he was at war with ‘people like me!’”
“You think I had something to do with that?”
“No, but I think you knew about it.”
“Tahir, we are the same age, I was but a child, as were you. How could I—why would you think…”
“I know that things are not what I once thought,” he answered through his rage.
“Until you arrived, I knew of nothing outside these walls! You’ve seen how my father shelters me, how my brother hates me. Do you honestly believe they told me about any of this? Do you truly believe I would keep it from you if they had?”
Tahir stopped. He knew it was true, and he realized he was taking his anger out on the wrong person. Ellic and Meelix remained silent, discretely watching the conversation.
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t believe that. I just…I don’t know.”
“I know.”
Tahir outstretched his arm and let her come to him. She embraced him gently, trying not to touch his wounds or cause him further pain. He rested his head on her shoulder and she ran her fingertips through his hair. Ellic and Meelix remained silent, but nodded to each other.
“Now, this is interesting,” Francis’ loud voice boomed into the cell. He sneered from the doorway where several guards stood behind him.
“Francis! How dare you!” She pulled away from Tahir, unintentionally leaving him to fall to his knee, and stormed toward her half-brother. Ellic and Meelix scurried behind her as she confronted the prince.
“How dare he touch the King’s daughter? Even if she is a monstrous beast.” He glared at her in disgust. “I shall have him executed for this treachery! Guards!”
“Stand down!” she ordered the guards. “Anyone who dares to lay a hand on my husband will suffer!”
The guards froze. Under normal circumstances they obeyed the prince, as he was the older of the siblings and heir to the throne. But most of the guards remembered Destiny’s childhood and knew that her temper tantrums could be extremely dangerous. Those who did not remember were reminded when her wings expanded from beneath her cape and her eyes turned into flaming embers. The room instantly became cold enough to see their breath. Mist rose from the ground beneath her.
“Leave us,” Francis ordered the guards, never taking his eyes from Destiny. When they were young, he managed to intimidate her and instill enough fear that she wouldn’t dare use her magic against him. He hoped he still commanded that fear.
“Did I hear you correctly, Sister?” He approached in his typical arrogant manner. “Have you brought even more shame to our family by marrying this…son of a merchant, no doubt? And now you proudly display your defo
rmity? This will kill our father for sure!”
“And you can’t wait for that, can you? All you’ve ever cared about was the crown, and making me feel less than I am. But I’m not a child anymore. You do not intimidate me. You will not touch Tahir, or any of my guests. And as for Father, do you really think I would marry without his blessing? He is happy for us.”
“This is not over, Demon. The time will soon come when I will no longer be forced to tolerate your filth.” With a snarl, Francis stormed out of the dungeon.
Tahir waited until he was long gone before speaking, “I thought you were exaggerating when you told me how much he hated you.”
“No.” She wiped at the tears welling up in her eyes. “Unfortunately I was not. Come, we can deal with Francis later. We need to get you taken care of.”
“I must talk to Demetrius,” Tahir said, as Destiny helped him to his feet. Meelix helped her wrap his naked body in the blanket she wore to stave off the constant chill of the castle.
“Alexander has been staying at the stone pillars,” Meelix relayed. “I’m not sure about Demetrius.”
“He disappeared yesterday, and Kraven vanished days ago,” Ellic added, creeping from behind Destiny. “The storm is getting stronger. I don’t know where they would have gone.”
Tahir nodded. They decided it best if they stayed in the tree house, just in case Francis or his guards attempted another attack. To their knowledge, most were unaware of the small tree house and its location in the forest. Oraden greeted them, annoyed that he had once again been left out of the excitement. Destiny flew Tahir up to their bed, leaving Ellic and Meelix to explain to Oraden all that transpired while they heated water and made sure she had an ample supply. She meticulously cleaned the shredded flesh that was Tahir’s back and the gash in his head. She left his side only long enough to check on her father.
With Destiny’s attentive care, Tahir was able to fight off infections and regain his strength. The days were given to healing and resting and waiting anxiously for the time to come. Alexander, Kraven and Demetrius were nowhere in sight, but neither was Francis. Gavin finally sobered up enough to be of assistance and put them through practice drills while they waited. They tried to keep themselves busy, but the waiting was nerve-wracking.
Each day the skies grew darker, until it was almost impossible to distinguish night from day. The winds too, grew more furious with each passing day; and as always, blew toward the black clouds. As the storm grew stronger, Francis was temporarily forgotten.
Demetrius, Alexander and Kraven finally returned; this time though, there were no warm greetings, no idle chatter. Alexander and Kraven unloaded bundles and sacks. Demetrius ordered everyone close to be heard over the howling winds.
“The hour is at hand, friends,” Demetrius shouted over the wind. “Take these effects. They are hand crafted by the dwarves, forged from mithril. You will never hold or wear weapons and armor as light and strong and beautiful as these. If they cannot protect you, nothing on this earth can. Carry them with confidence. Quickly now!”
Gavin assisted them in putting on their armor as Alexander and Kraven distributed them. Though Tahir knew there was a bigger battle at hand, his thoughts crept back to why Demetrius and Alexander allowed his village to be destroyed. Over the last few days, he and Destiny discussed the possibilities at length. He agreed to put his problems aside until Artemisios was defeated, but seeing them again rekindled his anger. Alexander’s cold stare met his as he handed him the new weapons.
“A single-edged curved blade,” Alexander said as he unsheathed the sword. “Perfectly balanced. The curve allows you to sheathe and unsheathe with ease from the back of a horse, or unicorn for that matter. It should look familiar; it is common to the peoples of your native land.” He returned the scimitar to its sheath. “I gave you a similar weapon before you left your village. Do you still have it?”
Tahir shook his head.
“To become a knight in England is an admirable goal, but it need not force you to abandon your heritage. Take these weapons and fight well; if we fail, you will not be the only one to have lost their home and family.” As he dressed Tahir in his armor, Alexander spoke to him in his typically quiet voice; yet Tahir could hear him perfectly despite the thunder and wind. “There is much in this world you do not understand, Tahir. Today, we have a common enemy, a powerful enemy that needs our full attention. Channel whatever anger you are harboring into defeating Artemisios. Once the dust has settled, we can address whatever conflicts you have with Demetrius and myself. Until then, we need your mind to be on the present, or we do not need you. Can you concentrate on the task at hand?”
Tahir breathed deeply, adjusting to the weight of the armor. It was surprisingly light and fit his body perfectly. He looked down at the breastplate, beautifully cast to look muscular. The thin coat of bronze contrasted with his black oxidized pauldrons and greaves, and was polished to such a high gloss he could see his reflection in the simulated muscles. He raised his head to return Alexander’s gaze.
“I can do that.” He pulled on his black, leather gauntlets, flexing his fingers to make sure he could still handle his bow.
Alexander nodded his approval, slapping him on the pauldron a couple of times before moving on to the next person. Demetrius watched the exchange, and nodded his approval.
None of them ever wore armor before, except Tahir, who had worn castoff armor made to fit someone else. Although they couldn’t fully appreciate the detail and quality, Gavin could. He marveled at the elaborate decorations, the perfection of the seams and stitches, the sharpness of the blades. It was far superior to anything the Kingdom’s best artisans ever created. Oraden and Ellic were given armor designed to protect their faces, chests and shins. The dwarves even fashioned a harness for Meelix’s hands so he would have a secure hold onto Ellic.
They flexed and twisted, testing the response of the armor and the weight of their swords. Each bow was tailored to fit their various arm lengths; every arrow painstakingly crafted to perfection.
Although Demetrius knew they were all terrified to face Artemisios, he could sense their pride and excitement. Demetrius and Kraven suited up in their armor as well, but Alexander preferred none. He was the strongest and most experienced fighter amongst them. He preferred to fight as he was born: a wolf, with his thick fur to protect him and his teeth as weapons. Demetrius refused to carry any sword other than his father’s. He held it up to his face and said a quick, silent prayer. He hated war, and he hated fighting, but there were no other options.
“We’ve no time to waste,” Demetrius sheathed his sword. “Our strategy is complex. Attack hard and fast with sword, arrow and fire. Each blade has a different toxin, collected from the far corners of the earth. Alone they are virtually harmless, but together, mixed in the blood, they produce a spell strong enough to take down the most powerful of creatures. Artemisios will be destroyed.
“Each of you must attack with sword or arrow, at least once. Here Ellic, drink this,” he tossed Meelix a vial. “Your fire—in one, and only one, blast—will be poison to Artemisios. Once everyone has made their attack, our focus will be to protect Tahir at all costs.
Under their armor and stern demeanors, they each itched to turn and look into their friends’ eyes.
“Tahir, you have twelve arrows, two treated with each of our four poisons, in a larger and more concentrated dose. Only after everyone else has attacked, including yourself with sword, you must attack Artemisios with each arrow. All twelve must hit their mark. You cannot miss, not even once.
“As for everyone else, it is essential we protect Tahir and keep Artemisios’ focus away from him. We will not have the aid of the Gnites as we originally planned, so it is up to us to protect him. After that, Kraven, Alexander, Destiny and I will know what to do.
“I cannot stress the importance of our success enough. We cannot fail. Does everyone understand? Come, we ride!” He didn’t wait for a response.
They quickl
y mounted unicorn, horses and dragon. leaving Gavin behind, they raced through villages and towns, forests and plains, directly into the eye of the storm.