by I. B. George
Aryana fought economically, without any unnecessary blows, just as she’d learned from the Khalari warriors. When she found the right moment, she lunged twice and her adversaries crushed to the white marble of the floor.
The three Wanderers fought back to back, covering for each other. They handled their swords skilfully which showed that Captain Cavas was right to choose them as the best option for this mission.
The fight didn’t last longer than quarter of an hour during which time one by one, the soldiers on guard fell under the sword blows of the nine friends.
His hair in disarray and sweat covering his forehead, Rolan placed his sword back into its scabbard, pushed the heavy doors and entered the throne room.
At the other end of the room, a few tens of paces away, stood King Tyreas. White as a sheet, he’d got up from the throne when he heard the first signs of battle behind the hall door.
“Stop where you are!” he shouted. “How dare you come in here?… I am your master!”
Rolan watched him through slit eyes, with a mean glare.
“Is this how you greet me after so many years, my dear Tyreas?” he said ironically.
When he heard Rolan’s voice, the king took a step back, leaning against the throne’s armrest.
“You,” he mumbled, turning even paler than before. “It can’t be… you’re a ghost… you can’t be him.”
“But I am, dear brother… it’s really me, Lorian.”
Damn me if I ever thought of that, thought Azar, looking at everyone else as they watched Rolan in bewilderment.
“What do you want?!” shouted Tyreas rudely as he regained his composure.
“I came back to take what’s mine: the throne to the Kingdom of Water… which you took from me years ago by plotting against me.”
“You’re mad! This throne doesn’t belong to the Kingdom of Water anymore but to the king of Elementis, a title which I gained in battle.”
“I’m not interested in ruling over the entire Elementis, brother. I only care about the throne of our forefathers which belongs to me by right, as the first born.”
“You’re an outcast… you have no right. Our father ordered…”
“Our father was tricked by your lies! He went to the After World without seeing your true colours and I couldn’t be there for him because of you, you villain!”
Tyreas went over to one of the water tanks around the throne room and dipped his hand inside.
“If you think you’re going to take over the throne without a fight, you’re wrong, my dear brother,” he uttered roguishly, not daring to look Rolan in the eyes. “Never!” he hollered madly as he hurled a torrent of water towards Rolan’s chest.
Rolan managed to avoid it by jumping to one side and the water took a chunk out of one of the columns in the hall.
At the same time, the energy wave caused by Robert’s Blue Flame crossed through the room, making Rolan, Tyreas and Voras fall to their knees, exhausted.
“What’s happening?!” called out Tyreas in a fright, leaning onto the edge of the water tank and trying to get up.
“The Blue Light, King Tyreas,” replied Azar who hadn’t been affected by the energy of the Blue Flame. “Do you remember the prophecy of the Oracle of Konaar? Well, it’s time for you to pay for your sins.”
“You losers… I am King Tyreas, master of the four kingdoms in Elementis and soon to be king over the entire Fantasmagoria…”
“I’m afraid those days have gone, brother,” called out Rolan as he started coming to. “Give yourself up and we shall be gentle with you or else everything might end very badly.”
“Never!” shouted Tyreas as he swiftly ran behind the throne.
He then opened a secret passage and disappeared inside the darkness of the corridor. The nine friends reacted immediately and ran behind him.
The flame of the torch lit up the darkness in the passage, making the king visible to his followers. Rolan was very familiar with the corridors in the throne room and after a while he realised that his brother was aiming to reach the inner courtyard so he can take shelter behind the soldiers who were still stationed at the castle.
There was light showing through ahead of them, which meant they were a short way away from the passage exit. Rolan overcame his fatigue and hurried along trying to catch Tyreas.
They found themselves surrounded by soldiers as soon as they stepped out into the courtyard.
“Catch them!” shouted Tyreas, foaming at the mouth in fury as he urged the soldiers to capture the nine friends.
The guards’ captain took a step forward in front of the soldiers.
“Give yourselves up… trying to resist would be pointless.”
Azar and Aryana surveyed the situation. As hard as they would have fought, they could not have possibly take on such numerous troops.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Captain Durval,” said Rolan as he recognised the old captain of the palace guards.
“Who are you, stranger, and how come you know my name?”
“Captain, I remember you teaching me how to use a sword more than twenty years ago, right here in the courtyard of the castle.”
Captain Durval took a few steps forward and looked closer into the face of the stranger before him.
“That’s not possible… Your Highness… you’re Prince Lorian!” he exclaimed with joy in his voice.
King Tyreas interfered furiously:
“Captain, I order you to chain this man and throw him into the castle dungeons, together with his friends. If you disobey me, you shall hang by tomorrow morning!”
Captain Durval was faced with a dilemma. He liked Prince Lorian and considered him a worthy offspring of King Thorvar. He had inherited the happy, gentle manner of his mother and was an unbeatable warrior like his brilliant father.
On the other hand, if he disobeyed King Tyreas’s order, even though he detested him, he would have committed the act of lèse-majesté[19].
“Captain, I’m assuming you’ve heard of the prophecy of the Oracle of Konaar, am I right?” asked Rolan.
The captain confirmed with his eyes. The entire Fantasmagoria had heard of it.
“Earlier you’ve seen with your own eyes the ‘blue light’, which the prophecy foretold. That means that my brother’s villainous reign is coming to an end. I’m sure it’s the same on the battlefield and my brother’s troops are about to perish…”
“I’m sorry to disagree, Your Highness, but it seems that the gods have balanced the odds in our favour…”
At exactly the same time, the long sound of a horn rang out and battle shouts were heard. A soldier came rushing, saluted and whispered something to the captain.
Happy with the news, he turned towards his soldiers.
“Arrest the king!”
The captain’s words created a moment of bewilderment. The king stood frozen to the spot, the same as Rolan and his friends. The soldiers were confused, not knowing whether they should follow the king’s orders or the captain’s.
“Didn’t you hear that, silly? Tie up the king and send him to a cell in the dungeons. Prince Lorian is the rightful heir to the throne. Long live the king!”
Tyreas pulled out his sword, frightened by the sudden turn of events.
“Take your hands off me, you scoundrels! I am your king… stay away from me!”
Captain Durval pulled out his sword and headed towards the king when Rolan’s voice stopped him.
“Stay where you are, Captain Durval! I’ll take care of this. My brother and I have some unfinished business to do.”
He pulled his sword and took a few steps towards Tyreas. The soldiers moved out of the way, forming a circle around them.
“It’s payback time, Tyreas,” uttered Rolan calmly as he waved the sword in his right hand. “I searched for you to settle matters when Father threw me out, but you went into hiding like a coward, as always. This time, there’s nowhere to hide.”
Tyreas’s eyes roamed around him like those
of a haunted animal, searching for a way out.
Cursed be the Oracle of Konaar and its prophecy! As for you, brother and the Eremon heir, may Zathar carry you in his arms, thought the king desperately, as he realised that this time there was no way out.
He threw himself upon his brother like a madman, lounging deeply. Rolan avoided the blow by jumping to one side and hit Tyreas’s sword with his blade, making the king lose his balance.
“You fight like a girl, Tyreas. Your moves would be better suited in a ballroom than a weapon hall,” uttered Rolan, making everyone chuckle.
Tyreas roared, visibly annoyed by his brother’s words. Somewhere behind him, Durval was smiling. He was the one who had thought Rolan to annoy his adversaries during combat, so as to make them lose their temper and concentration.
This is exactly what was happening now: Tyreas lounged again, erratically, towards Rolan. In a swift movement, Rolan pirouetted round the king’s sword then spanked him across the bottom with the blade of his sword, to everyone’s amusement.
“You deserved a good beating, brother,” chuckled Rolan. “Perhaps if Father – may Zathar rest his soul – gave you one at the right time, you might not have become the man you are now.”
“Father loved me!” shouted Tyreas.
“He loved you because you were his son, not because you deserved it. I was his favourite until you took that away from me.”
“Lorian this, Lorian that… I’d had enough of hearing all day long how wonderful my brother was. I also needed to be appreciated.”
“You win that through your actions, not by getting rid of those you don’t like. If you wanted to win our father’s praises, you should have tried harder with your fighting training, for example. Instead, your sly nature and your lack of empathy made Father love you less. That was your own fault, not mine.”
“But in the end, I became king, not you,” Tyreas answered back embittered.
“You were left to rule because there was no alternative, once I wasn’t around anymore. You are pathetic, brother… you started believing your own lies. You’ve been feeding on them for so long that you’ve started thinking it’s the truth.”
“That’s not true!” screamed Tyreas. “I was a better king than you would have ever been. Look how our kingdom has flourished under my rule… I am the master of the entire Elementis…”
“And look where it’s got you now: in the courtyard of your own castle, fighting me for your own life, broken, without a soul on your side.”
Tyreas watched him with glossy eyes. He threw himself upon Rolan again, trying to take him by surprise. This time Rolan didn’t try to dodge but faced his brother’s sword, parrying it. He crossed his blade with the king’s and with a sudden movement he snatched the sword from Tyreas’s hand.
The sword circled through the air and eventually landed in the ground, a few paces away. Rolan pointed the tip of his blade to Tyreas’s chest, making him freeze to the spot in fright, as he waited for his end.
“You deserve to be sent to the After World for all the damage you’ve made. But that would be too small a punishment for you. Take him away!” he called to the soldiers. “Lock him in the dungeons, under strict guard.”
The soldiers grabbed Tyreas by the arms as he looked about him with haunted eyes, looking ten years older. They tied him up then took him away to the castle dungeons.
Azar approached Captain Durval.
“Captain,” he uttered, holding the Eremon House banner, “I ask for your permission to fly Prince Robert’s flag from the highest tower in Heldor. I’m hoping your soldiers will see the flag flying and that might stop the bloodshed. I can assure you it’s just a temporary gesture, Captain, and that you’re not exchanging one tyrant for another.”
“I’m sure King Lorian agrees with that, honourable, as long as you count yourself as one of His Highness’s friends,” said Durval courteously. “You have my permission.”
Azar thanked him and headed towards the highest tower of the castle, hoping to get there as quickly as possible and stop the violence on the battlefield.
***
In his chamber in the dungeons of Heldor Castle, Elian the wizard was watching the battle between the Prince of Eremon’s army and King Tyreas’s troops.
He watched spitefully how the Blue Flame weakened the powers of the Night Chosen and of those in the Kingdom of Water. In his fury, he crushed some of the jugs where he kept his various potions.
“Cursed be this child and his fate. Cursed be Lokar and his Oracle of Konaar!” he screamed in desperation as his plans came crushing down.
He saw the remainder of Tyreas’s troops gaining advantage again and for a few moments he thought that the oracle was wrong.
The surface of the World Mirror into which he was looking started turning turbid and unclear. Gradually the images faded and the surface of the mirror became as black as coal.
Elian went closer and with his palm he touched the mirror which started trembling in blue circles, just like when you throw a stone into the water.
He couldn’t understand what had happened and why he couldn’t watch the battle as before. He thought he’d seen inside the dark abyss of the mirror a white outline in the shape of a hand, waving and beckoning him closer.
He went closer to the surface of the mirror in an attempt to have a closer look the image outlined at the bottom of the frame.
Suddenly, a pale bare-boned hand came out of the mirror and grabbed him by the collar of his cape. He tried to fight back the grip, struggling to pry open the hand which held him in place.
The hand pulled him towards the surface of the mirror, drowning his head inside the black liquid which looked as if it had started boiling. A sudden jerk pulled him into the darkness of the mirror up to the waist, leaving just his legs to hang out.
For a few moments, Elian’s legs twitched, desperately fighting for life, then the wizard sunk entirely into the mirror and vanished.
The surface of the mirror continued to bubble for a few more seconds and then everything went still.
***
When the remainder of King Tyreas’s troops entered the fight, his army gained the advantage. The wreckage caused by the Water Chosen among Prince Robert’s soldiers added to the disaster on the battlefield.
A ray of hope shone over the prince’s camp when Robert annihilated the powers of the Chosen with the help of the Blue Flame. Their hope was short-lived however, because Tyreas’s troops were more numerous and had the upper hand in the hostilities.
Robert’s soldiers tried to keep strong, emboldened by the blue light which confirmed the prophecy. In the opposite camp, King Tyreas’s troops fought hard, wanting to avenge the shame they‘d endured at the beginning of the battle.
In the middle of the fight, ringing out over the sound of swords rattling and soldiers shouting, the sound of a horn was heard, followed by wild cries.
From behind the right flank of the battlefield, from a copse at the bottom of Heldor Castle, appeared hundreds of riders wearing leather armours.
With their long hair tied up at the back and their double-edged hatchets which they waved over their heads, the riders started calling wild cries as they lounged ahead with their horses.
“Khalari! Tanaris! Khalari! Tanaris!”
At the head of his riders, Volkar Tanaris, Queen Aryana’s husband, was riding like a god descended on earth.
The Khalari cavalry fell like thunder upon Tyreas’s troops, balancing the odds of the struggle. With the help of their unusual weapons, they slashed left and right through the soldiers of the Kingdom of Water who seemed confused when faced with such determination from their enemy.
Volkar Tanaris, together with two of his friends, were causing real damage among Robert’s enemies. In less than quarter of an hour, fear started tugging at the hearts of those in the Kingdom of Water.
That was when behind the walls of Heldor Castle, Captain Durval was being informed about the Khalari knights and he made the decisio
n to arrest the king as he acknowledged the turn of events.
Half an hour later, the Eremon House’s banner was flying over the highest tower at Heldor Castle, and Tyreas’s troops surrendered their weapons.
Almost two thousand Khalari warriors took over the prisoners, making sure they surrendered every weapon they had on them.
The Kingdom of Water’s new king, Lorian, was going to decide their fate.
General Valarian surrendered his sword to General Sathor, acknowledging thus his superiority, despite the numerous army he had at his disposal on the battlefield.
Towards evening, Robert together with Radius and Volkar Tanaris joined their friends behind the walls at Heldor Castle and held a toast for the future of the Lower Realm and Rolan’s future reign.
Chapter 13
Epilogue
The sun was shining cheerfully across the window in Robert’s room. Curled up between the white sheets, the prince opened one eye and looked through the green branches of the tree outside his window.
It seemed like a wonderful morning at Sardar Castle, the residence of the Eremons and their guests from all around the kingdoms of Fantasmagoria.
He’d arrived late at the castle, accompanied by his friends. General Karon, who had betrayed the Eremon House and joined King Tyreas, had disappeared without a trace and the guards at the castle received them with open arms.
The news of Tyreas’s defeat had spread across the entire Elementis and wherever they passed through, people came out to cheer them.
Robert pulled over his blanket and stretched. He hadn’t slept so well from a very long time. It felt like everything he’s been through lately was nothing more than a figment of his imagination.
He got up from his bed and looked for his clothes. On top of a large chair, upholstered with veal skin, stood beautifully folded some clean clothes which someone had placed there while he was sound asleep.
He washed with the water from a bucket which stood on a mirrored cabinet in the corner of the room. Then he dried with the white towel which smelled of wild flowers and put on the clothes he’d found.