Dawn of the Valiant (The Valerious Chronicles: Book One)

by Julian Saheed

The bright light of the rising sun woke the two boys early in the day. They had slept longer than intended, but could do little about it now. After eating some hardened fruits and biscuits they packed their things and set off once again. The combination of the scorching sun, the rank smell of the rotting carcass and the now infected wounds that they both carried, was rapidly draining away their strength. However, determined to make it back to Hamal, they drove on, calling upon every ounce of strength that they had left.

  They continued their march, stopping only briefly to drink and rest their legs. The choice however cost them dearly and by sunset Christill and Thibalt were walking corpses. The bites on Christill's leg now fully hindered his ability to walk as they filled with pus and dirt. Thibalt urged his brother on, even though his own side, which was showing no sign of healing, was causing him so much anguish that at times he had almost fainted.

  With Christill's limp and the dead cat's weight aggravating Thibalt's wound, the brothers were not making good time. Thus as the last rays of the sun faded away they had not yet reached Hamal.

  "I can go no further," Christill cried falling to the floor completely exhausted.

  "If we continue on...," Thibalt replied, pausing to draw breath, "We can make the city by morning. If we stop, we may never rise again. This is your chance to show them all who you really are, brother."

  Christill paused for a moment then forced himself back up. He walked over to Thibalt, placing his hand on his shoulder and said, "Then let us show them." He grabbed the net and together they once again headed towards the city.

  They stumbled onwards, finally leaving the desert and entering the outskirts of Hamal. Christill and Thibalt found their minds drifting in and out, their feet carrying them slowly home. After several torturous hours they finally caught sight of the many lights burning brightly in the city.

  "We are nearly there," Thibalt managed to mumble out as they continued to march.

  The sight of the city ahead in the distance was the only thing that stopped them from giving up and dropping onto the ground to accept a silent death. Summoning every last ounce of strength, they slowly staggered into the city with the rising of the sun.

  They were in terrible condition. Christill's leg had now turned a sickly shade of yellow and his dry, cracked lips were puffed up and bleeding. As the populous slowly began to wake, word spread that two boys had been spotted stumbling slowly towards the Mul'Pha square and the people of Hamal raced to the square to see the victors.

  The brothers entered the square to gasps and shrieks as the Miirvkin saw the horrid state of their bodies. The crowd separated to make room for them, directing them to the dais in the centre of the square. The large doors of the school burst open loudly and the Disciple emerged from them in a rush. He stormed through the crowd and made his way up the stairs onto the dais.

  "Where are they?" he asked loudly.

  A thin, robed man standing next to the Disciple pointed out Thibalt and Christill standing at the base of the stage. The Disciple gave out a loud gasp and clasped his hand over his mouth. The look of horror on his face pleased Thibalt profoundly and for once in his life he was happy to see the Disciple.

  For several moments the Disciple stood speechless, not able to find his words. The crowd began to mutter silently and the Disciple was shaken out of his stupor.

  "Well, we appear to have our first...," the Disciple's speech was interrupted by a roar from the crowd.

  The brothers turned around to face the crowd, but were surprised to see that the people were not looking at them. They were cheering in the opposite direction. Another path opened in the midst of the crowd and through it came Cathan, covered in cuts and bruises, bearing the carcass of an Irian on his shoulders. His partner was stumbling slowly behind him. Thibalt and Christill could not believe their eyes as they watched Cathan walk proudly through the square. He caught the hateful eye of Thibalt and smiled sadistically until he reached the stage. With great strength he lifted the cat off his shoulders and heaved it onto the ground before the dais.

  "As I was saying, we have found our first pair to return with an Irian. Praise Beon, our champions are Cathan and his partner Hiefal," the Disciple boomed over the noisy crowd.

  Thibalt and Christill felt as though they were in a nightmare. As the crowd grew wild with excitement, Cathan and Hiefal were lifted onto shoulders and carried throughout the square triumphantly. Christill turned to the Disciple who was smiling wickedly.

  "We were here first, you liar!" he screamed.

  "Cathan is the winner!" the Disciple screamed back. "You no doubt found some rotting carcass out in the desert and tried to fool us. I am not so ignorant."

  "This is drivel. You would deny us glory just to please your own sadistic fantasies."

  "How dare you!"

  "I hope you die a horrible death!" Christill screamed back rebelliously.

  Thibalt grabbed Christill by the shoulder and dragged him away from the dais, afraid that the Disciple might attack them. He pushed Christill out of the square and they headed home, walking away from the wild noise rising out of the square. They did not say a word to each other. There was nothing to say. They moved inside to find Kera and Reinar sitting at the table. Almost instantly Kera rushed over to the boys. She forced them to sit down and Kera ran off to get fresh water and salve to clean their wounds.

  Reinar remained silent, his eyes turned away from the brothers.

  The uncomfortable silence continued whilst Kera returned and saw to their wounds. Kera cleaned the dirt and crusted blood from their cuts and rubbed a soothing ointment made from seaweed over them in thick amounts. Finally she covered the wounds in salted strips of cloth that would drive out any infection and moved away to prepare them some food.

  "You will be pleased to know that we were cheated of victory," Christill blurted out once Kera had left.

  "What happened?" Reinar asked after a moments pause.

  "The Disciple stole our victory away from us unjustly and gave it to Cathan."

  Reinar sighed and said, "The will of the Disciple is the will of Beon. There is little that can be done."

  "What just happened out there has nothing to do with the will of Beon," Christill shouted.

  "Christill! We shall speak no more of this," Reinar replied sternly. "You are not acting rationally."

  Christill looked at his foster father in outrage. "I cannot believe this." He then stormed into his room slamming the door shut.

  Thibalt awkwardly left his seat and moved towards the room, but was stopped by Reinar.

  "Wait, I wish to speak with you. Sit down."

  Although utterly exhausted, Thibalt took a seat once more.

  "You must understand the pain both of us are feeling right now," said Thibalt.

  Reinar brought his fingers to his eyes and began to rub them. "I am not a monster, Thibalt. I know that this is all unjust. But what do you expect?"

  "I guess it was a foolish hope to believe that we would be treated equally. We are outcasts after all."

  Reinar looked up at Thibalt. "You seem to understand better than your brother does. You always have." He began to tap his fingers on the table and let out a long breath. "Last night I spoke with Lord Bearn. Despite my hesitance, he has commanded me to take the Iron Stride to the shores of Feldom once more."

  "A raid?"

  "Yes," replied Reinar. "My initial instinct was to keep this from you two. But I have changed my mind."

  Thibalt could sense a reluctance in Reinar. His voice betrayed the difficulty that he was having in telling him this news. "Whether you tell us or not, nothing will change."

  "That is not true. It is my wish that you come with us."

  Thibalt did not know what to say. "You want me to join you on a raid of the Feldonian coast?"

  "I have thought long and hard on this. It may seem strange to you, but what better way to prove to them-," he motioned outside. "-that you are truly Miirvkin. This is your chance to show the pe
ople of Hamal that you have forsaken your Feldonian heritage and that you are one of us."

  "I...I do not know if I can do this," stuttered Thibalt. How could Reinar expect him to fight and kill his own people?

  "I gave up so much for you and your brother, Thibalt. I even lost my own daughter. Do this for me."

  Thibalt saw a hidden sadness Reinar's eyes and suddenly felt abashed. "And what of Christill?" he asked.

  "Christill is not ready," Reinar replied, trying to avoid Thibalt's eyes. "He is too rash. He holds too much hatred for my kin."

  "He needs to prove himself more than I do. You must see that."

  "I do not know what hope there is for him," said Reinar in a troubled voice. "He is so different from the rest of us. Yet in you I see some hope. You have a chance to find a life amongst us. To make the blood oath that I took mean something."

  Thibalt suddenly understood. This was being driven by Reinar's own regret. He was trying to ensure that all of the sacrifices that he made for them were not fruitless.

  "Christill need not know where we are going. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," Thibalt replied reluctantly. "Though I still don't know if I can do what you ask of me."

  "You will do it for me," Reinar replied. "Now get some rest, the ceremony of the hunt will begin at sunset. We can discuss this further tomorrow."

  Thibalt rose and moved towards his room, unaware that Christill was listening from behind the door.