The Legendary Firestone. Book 2. Behind the Veils

by Reja Emran

  The Griffin King commenced the meeting with a screech. “Creatures behold! Sylvana and Raven have found Calcaria and the one who watches over it, the green dragon Cardiff.”

  “Green dragon?” asked Kerfina with a concerned glance in her son’s direction.

  “Yes, the creatures of the sky told us of him,” replied Raven returning a reassuring glance to his mother, “However only the Guardian can confront it.”

  “Where is the Guardian?” asked Servin and Vinyl at once.

  “We do not know. Raven tells me that the earth stone has been recovered by the Annoxonum,” replied Sylvana hurriedly, “the Fire Guardian is also being revived. She’s been wounded enough and now we shall ask the High Council to keep her in their walls till the time comes.”

  “Good,” said Vinyl “although her heart is corrupted perhaps we can negotiate for a short-term settlement. We will need all the powers of the Guardians to stop the wicked plot of Aria, what so ever it may be.”

  “I believe that she will form the elemental stone” the Griffin King put in gruffly and the others nodded in agreement. A deep silence washed over the Council and all gazed at one another strangely, remembering the horrors of the past.

  “Aria is not the only one to fear now,” said Sylvana, her eyes shadowed with a murky darkness as Raven glanced at her with a puzzled expression. “The Shadow is rising.”

  “It is now time to act before the world is again engulfed with the dark sorcery as it once was because of the evil sorceress, Zoulga. Sylvana speaks true and we must prepare ourselves before the Shadow awakes.” Servin’s revelation was truthful and a click of approval came from Vinyl, who had started taking a liking to this wise eagle.

  “Raven and Sylvana will now search afar for the Earth Guardian. I will personally oversee the Fire Guardian’s transfer to the High Council while Kerfina will emphasize on the protection of the Water Guardian to the leaders of Tyrendale. Vinyl and Servin cooperate and scout areas far and wide except Nebula, for that is where Aria is resting and we cannot alert her suspicions against us especially since we still have to worry of the Shadow. It may be warned of our searching. It cannot be stirred. I will meet with the creatures of Sacred Glove and Queen Arean to discuss strategies.”

  The Griffin King looked at those before him, watching as they all intently listened to their orders. “Meeting is now dismissed.”

  All the eagles flew away with great speed to fulfill their objectives and prepare against the evil which was flooding the earth.

  ***

  The night had descended and the sun was again under the huge hills, but this night was unlike the rest: it was filled with fear, foreboding of the dark magic to come. At the arrival of Ching’s message, the city of Tyrendale and Sacred Glove were being fortified for the attack of Aria, while scouts roamed the outskirts for any sign of danger.

  The dusting of stars shone a heavenly light on the plains but it could not penetrate the thick ambiance of dread. Every crevice and dip in the land was shadowed and the trees even whistled with haunting words.

  Cyrillon and Eurofir stood together, on the bridge before the Fortress of the Royal Elentians, each wearing a glinting set of thin armor on their chest on which an emblem glinted. It was the emblem of Tyrendale, consisting of three stars and a moon.

  Sinardin had ordered the archers, led by Eurofir, to stand ground on the walls of both Sacred Glove and Tyrendale from where they would attack. The spell casters including the King and Queen were to attack from the jade towers which loomed above the rest of the buildings and with them they took some elite archers for defense if required. Cyrillon and the Guardian had been appointed the task to lead the cavalry into the battle to protect the grounds but were to attack only if the enemy purged through the gates of Sacred Glove.

  “Are all the preparations made?” asked Luminon, coming towards the bridge hastily his body clothed with thin armor underneath the robes. A medallion glinted on his neck, an amulet he often wore.

  “Yes, my King,” said Eurofir. He had been talking to Cyrillon of a battle strategy and he related that to the King who smiled in approval at their plan which was simple enough. The cavalry would only attack once the front walls were breached, they would not engage the enemy who clustered around the side exits.

  “Good…Eurofir assemble the archers to their positions,” ordered Sinardin as she sped towards them wearing loose flowing mantles of sea-green and a silver circlet. She gave a thin smile to her husband and then glanced at Cyrillon with saddened eyes.

  “I will leave to assemble the spell-casters,” announced Luminon followed by Eurofir leaving Sinardin and Cyrillon alone, but before leaving he passed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Cyrillon acknowledged it and gave a tight nod to the King before turning to the Queen.

  “Cyrillon find the Guardian,” said Sinardin, her haste indicating the discomfort she felt but Cyrillon did not want to exert tension on her strained senses, so nodding quickly he exited the fortress grounds. He did not see the exchange of glances behind his back or the whispered murmurs of the Elentian guards as now the entire city knew of his heredity.

  Cyrillon located Aniah easily sitting on the ground gazing at the lake. She was already adorned in her battle dress. It was an outfit, somber and grave like the occasion with a midnight-blue cape and a high necked, deep gray dress which draped her slim figure. The edges of the neck had thin embroidery of silver and the glinting chain around her neck could be seen in the faint light of the moon on which hung her ring.

  The hazel of her eyes had diminished to a shallow haze in the moonlight and her lips were tightly pressed. A few stray mahogany locks twirled down her face while the rest were pinned back, a single braid running down the back intertwined with silver metal.

  “Aniah, we must join the cavalry,” said Cyrillon softly, as he came forward towards the Guardian.

  Her lips slightly parted in protest and then after a moments hesitation, “Cyrillon, I have a strange feeling in my heart. It is as if I am not in the right place, that I belong some place else.”

  The Guardian stood up, her eyes glistening with anxiety and the conflicting emotions within her surfaced to her face. She bit her lip nervously as she tried to determine why she was feeling this way. It was as if something was very wrong, something which needed her presence. It was related to the water stone she was sure of that but she wondered at the news of the destruction of the stone during her imprisonment in Criswan. She would have to visit Etna soon enough to confirm.

  “Do not trouble yourself, all is being taken care of and you must not venture into peril. Orders from the Councils have come.” Cyrillon studied her carefully noticing the determination which flickered across her face but quickly faded.

  Aniah sighed and did not argue for she knew that he was right, she must not let down her guard; especially after she had the near fatal encounter with the Fire Guardian. “Let us go into battle.”

  Cyrillon and Aniah sped towards Sacred Glove where their armored horses and the hundreds of Elentian riders were waiting for their commanders, their breastplates and lances glinting in the light within the city of Sacred Glove. As the pair arrived, the soldiers gave a short nod and then stared ahead with grim faces.

  Aniah glanced at one young boy who stood at the front line trying to mask his presence behind the other soldiers and admiration seized her as she smiled at the bravery of the child. Walking up to the black mare, she motioned for him to step down and noticed the fervor that shone in the dark eyes.

  “What is your name child?” asked Aniah.

  “My name is Braham.” The child replied with a touch of impatience as he glanced at Cyrillon mounting Khazdul.

  “How old are you Braham?”

  “I am fourteen years of age, my Lady.” The child looked at her defiantly as if daring her to throw him out on account of his age and a flame lightened his eyes but Aniah was not concerned by the child’s anger and continued her questions.

  “Does your fath
er know you are planning to fight?”

  “My father is one of the cavalry, my Lady.” The boy now answered with exasperation as irritation etched into his innocent features. “Is that all?”

  “No. I am sorry Braham but you know the law. No man under seventeen may participate in war. You will have to leave and take shelter with the women and children.” Aniah knew she was impeding the boy’s desires but she would not have innocent children murdered at the hands of the enemy.

  “No my Lady!” cried the boy and Cyrillon came on Khazdul behind Aniah as he heard the voice of the boy.

  “Braham, what are you doing here?” asked Cyrillon with an arched eyebrow at the boy’s glinting mail.

  “He was planning to fight alongside the cavalry.” Aniah glanced at the Elentian Knight and he gave her an amused grin.

  “No Braham, I cannot let you fight. You need more training before you can take on an enemy.”

  “But I am ready sir!”

  “Your father does not think so and neither do I.”

  “He said his father is in the cavalry. Is he?” asked Aniah as she watched the boy lower his head with shame at his lie and he shook his head. He was in tears and Aniah bent down to whisper in his ear. To Cyrillon’s surprise, Braham gave Aniah a beatific grin and darted away with his mare following behind. He looked questioningly at Aniah with a smile.

  “I just told him that he would be needed to protect the women and children if we failed to hold the forces at bay.” Aniah watched the running boy with a grave expression and ran a hand over Khazdul, stroking the russet mane of the steed as she stared till the boy was out of sight.

  Cyrillon gazed at her troubled features and then glanced at the silent soldiers with a heavy heart. So many would die today, it was an inevitable consequence of this war.

  The wolf leader paced to and fro at the edge of the Sevin Jungle while the sprites twittered away, their voices oscillating. He bellowed harshly and the chattering died down immediately. They all stood waiting the signal from their Mistress as they were all restless and itching to attack. The leader could see the walls being fortified with archers and grinned maliciously. It was going to be a good fight.

  Suddenly bright sparks of red light illuminated the sky above accumulating together to form the symbol of Nebula, a cobra.

  It is time. The wolf leader snarled as he led the legion towards Sacred Glove, his jagged teeth drooling with saliva and his dark eyes filled with fury. The battalion trotted forward, speeding up as they crossed the small hills. When they neared the border, the trumpet was sounded and the sprites lifted a huge log and charged at the golden gates. Arrows showered on their fragile bodies which faded away as yellow dust but their determination soared. Their aim was to please their mistress and they would fulfill that no matter what. The wolves remained in the murky shadows, watching the sprites fall but not moving till the gates would be broken down. The leader bared his teeth, he looked up at the fading cobra and his eyes shone a molten garnet. It is time.

  Above in the walls, stood Eurofir shouting out commands to the archers and at the same time piercing the body of the fairies with his sharp arrows, his hair blowing in the wind, fanning his long face while his eyes were squinted in concentration. He wished he was leading the cavalry but the orders of the Royals could not be denied even though they were aware of his skill with the sword. The archers alongside him dipped the tip of their arrows into the small fires and left the bowstrings, sending a shower of fire on the enemy. Occasionally the walls rumbled due to the smashing by the log and several archers fell down the walls, not giving up till they had drawn their last breath and they sliced at the fairies with their thin scimitars till they were killed.

  Although it deeply grieved Eurofir as each archer fell down, he did not let himself be distracted except for giving a last note of farewell to the comrades and giving others encouragement, which became a feeble attempt as the walls crumbled. Then the Elentian noticed a fairy heading for the tip of the log, waving a lighted splint of wood. His face tightened as he realized that they were attempting to burn down the walls. Below him the ground rumbled as the log smashed harder. He released an arrow which pierced the fairy but then he faltered as he could perceive a sea of fire coming towards them, a swarm of fairies with torches. His eyes glinted with fierceness.

  “Kill the fairies with the fire,” he called out, “Now!”

  Above him Arean and the other phoenixes circled the fairies lashing angry jets of fire, burning their bones to ashes while the Arkansage flew over the gates and thrashed these sprites with their hooves. They also sent several fairies sailing into the castle where they were dealt by the armed nymphs, who drove spears into the hearts of their fallen kindred and then moved on to the next. The tigers led by Dijon, their new leader, were right besides the gates ready to attack if the legion ever go through. Soon the gates gave way and several archers fell to the ground trampled in the horde as the sprites still remained in excessive number; they mainly comprised of the fire-fairies who were immune to the deadly fire of the phoenixes. They swarmed inside, but there they met the snapping jaws of the tigers and that threw their forces into an agonizing chaos.

  Cyrillon eyed the enemy forces and also caught sight of the wolves trailing behind. He flipped his head to the side, with Khazdul following his directive. The riders raised their lances and looked expectantly at him for commands. They grinned as they noticed the wolves as they were ready for killing, killing the forces this witch had sent. Killing the legions to gain victory and once again shatter the hold of evil. War was in their blood, in their very soul. It was a part of their history.

  “Gurth Goth Rimlye!” he exclaimed and then charged forwards followed by Aniah and the mass of determined Elentian riders, horses rampaging with eagerness. The battle had begun, but none knew that towards whom the balance would tip in favor of. Evil and good, a battle long fought in the Magic Plains but none were aware of the shadowy masses stirring with the war. An angry blackness which had cursed the plains under the eyes of all since the rise of the sorceress and now it changed direction. The Shadow moved towards Tyrendale, moving slowly but yet it came. Under the sky, the angry cries of war sounded and all was in chaos.

  ***

  Xia quickly clambered off the back of the phoenix and landed softly on the moist ground followed closely by Ching and Julian.

  “Where is this, Fiona?” asked Xia, all worry and concern.

  “It is the heart of the Sevin Jungle, where I located the firestone in a cave but it holds a terrible monster.” Fiona stretched her long wings, illuminating the darkness which stretched afar.

  “We will have to tread softly,” said Ching gravely and then glancing at Julian, “Julian, you need to be on guard and start casting only if the need arises. Do not give away our position with any foolish mistake.”

  “I will remain here till you return,” announced Fiona as the three crept through the cluster of trees towards a dark cave, surrounded by heavy mist. In their haste, the girls forgot to remain silent and they caused a simultaneous cracking of twigs under their boots.

  “Hush!” hissed Ching angrily “We’re too close for you to make any stupid mistakes.”

  Xia peered into the hollow cave and there-to her joy-she saw the firestone, its surface glowing ever so brightly but she eyed the stone with curiosity as its glow was strange. Her heart once again darkened and she pressed the dagger she wore close to her waist.

  “I will go inside first,” said Xia firmly looking at Ching, “if I need help I’ll call you and please warn me if some other creature is sneaking up behind.” Julian gave a sharp stare to her friend but then became quiet, not intending to argue. She just threw her arms around the Annoxonum and pleaded her to be careful. Ching nodded reluctantly and then ushered his grand-daughter forward, his grey mustache twitching and his eyes had become darker at he thought of this beloved child straying into unknown danger. “Hurry.”

  Xia bounded swiftly towards the wa
ll of the cave, pressing herself in against the cave stone, besides the cave’s entrance. She did this with great speed and hardly produced an audible sound, even her very breath was drowned out by the gust of winds. As the mist enveloped the Annoxonum, she could no longer perceive Ching and Julian, as her vision was blurred.

  Withdrawing her dagger, she stepped into the cave.

  She gasped.

  ***

  Thunder rumbled in the inky-black sky as the dark, heavy clouds swirled, forming an eerie shape which resembled a vortex. The plains below wore a thin veil of blood, blood which was sacred and blood which was damned.

  The battle ground raged with fury, anger and hatred mingled with cries of pain and uncontrollable anguish. Sacred Glove launched a massive attack against the numerous fairies and the formidable bands of wolves. All the tribes were fighting furiously to regain the lost victory but still they were evenly matched.

  Eurofir now had retreated to the Tyrendale towers with the units of archers who were exhausted and slumped to the walls as if admitting defeat but the Elentian leader did not let them fall into the grasp of defeat so easily. He would drag them if he had to and that was what Eurofir meant to do. The gates of Sacred Glove had been demolished and the walls were crumbling. In the midst of it all the riders were engaged in a furious battle with the beasts, the wolves that had fallen in the sway of evil.

  Cyrillon was on Khazdul, slashing his sword Durandel; whisking it from side to side, perforating the mass of the enemy fairies. The other riders were startled to see Durandel in the hands of this Elentian but realized his true heritage and the prophecies weaved around it although Cyrillon was not aware of these legends. They fought intensely with more enthusiasm and remembered the pledges to the Knights, pledges taken long ago.

  Aniah, fought beside Cyrillon on a graceful paint known as Amazon, fearlessly penetrating forward in attempt to slay the leader of the wolves who was snapping through the forces with great ease and several of the forces lay dead, the bodies mercilessly strewn across the bloody plain.