by Tristan Vick
A clearing opens up and three of the guards, already growing weary from the heat exhaustion, decide to circle round me and take me from behind. That is their mistake.
As they slip in behind me I rush forward to deal lethal blows to the two guards left standing before me.
Ducking, I thrust out my sword to its fullest extent and pierce the first guard in his abdomen. At the same time, I feel the second guard’s blade narrowly miss the top of my head. I even see a few strands of my severed hair float down to the ground. But I’ve timed it perfectly, and he misses.
Springing back up, I kick the first guard backward and then jab the second guard in the throat. His eyes go wide, and he looks at me in shock, unable to figure out how I moved so fast.
I pull my blade out of the second guard’s throat just as the first one hits the ground. Tapping him on his breastplate, I give him a nudge forward. With a clangor, he falls onto his dead friend.
The sound of footsteps rushing up from behind me forces me to react, and I jump into the air. As I spin through the air like a lethal pinwheel, I manage to nick another guard in his jugular. Blood begins squirting out of his neck like a fountain. He puts his hand up to stop the gaping wound but is unable to halt the bleeding.
Defeated, he slowly sinks to his knees, looking at me with terror-stricken eyes. Swaying with lightheadedness, he lurches forward and falls flat onto his face.
The last two guards hesitate. Before they can decide how to mount their attack, however, I fly across the distance between us as though I were gliding on the wind. Before either of them can blink, I pierce the guard standing on the right through the soft part of his fat belly—my sword sliding right through his armor like a hot knife through butter. He looks down in shock and dismay at my sword lodged in his gut.
I raise my foot and kick him away. As he staggers backward, I draw my blade back out. Blood drips from my blade and I look up into his eyes. The funny thing is, I know it even before he does. Stumbling about on wobbly knees, he finally drops down to the dirt and falls beside his friend.
Lying there, with his life slowly draining out of him, the guard looks out across the sea of dead bodies that lie directly in my wake, and his eyes finally settle on me. My dark form silhouetted against the flaming walls behind me.
Not wanting to risk meeting the same fate as his friends, the final guard turns and runs away. But the idiot runs straight into the wall of fire, which pins him in. Lurching to a stop, he spins on his heels and rushes toward me in the hopes of powering past me. But the poor sap doesn’t see Leif’s foot jut out in front of him.
“Oops,” Leif says with a smirk.
The guard crashes to the ground and takes a mouthful of dirt. Pushing himself up to his knees, he spits out wet globs of sand.
Just as the guard goes for his blade, I spin around, my back to him, and then thrust my sword underneath my armpit. He rises up behind me, preparing himself for a kill, but I merely take a step backwards. My back presses into his chest, the tip of my sword sliding deep into his chest.
It’s a swift, merciful kill. A clean cut through the heart.
It’s like Master Kel taught me, “The difference between life and death is but just one sliver of a misstep.”
Leif dusts off his hands in a symbolic gesture of cleaning up after himself and quips, “All in a day’s work.”
Without warning, Lisette shrieks in terror, and Leif and I spin around to see her pointing toward the roaring flames which have nearly made their way to us. I squint into the intense heat and see a dark figure emerge from the orange blaze.
“What in the world?” Leif says. He’s as shocked as I am.
The man who stumbles out is burned to a crisp. Singed beyond all recognition. He appears to be wearing the robes of a monk, except most of his clothing has burned away leaving only a living cinder beneath.
Reaching out toward me, he extends his arm but to my horror his burned skin flakes off as though he were disintegrating before my very eyes. Only the whites of his eyes seem to be untarnished.
I rush up to the man and he falls into my arms. I lean in as it seems he has something urgent he wishes to tell me, but the words don’t come. I notice his lips have melted together from the intense heat of the flames.
Taking my hand, the monk places a stalk of bamboo in it and then passes away in my arms.
Gently, I lay him down on the ground and then stand up. Leif and Lisette stand a safe distance away watching with heavy eyes.
I look back down at the charred remains of the monk. As hard as I want to look away I can’t.
“What is it?” Lisette asks, snapping me out of my dreadful daze.
I look at my hand and examine the mysterious bamboo spout I’m holding. It’s charred and blackened but the damage only seems to be surface deep.
Holding it closer, I see that it’s not merely a stalk of bamboo. It’s a container of some sort. A tube meant for carrying scrolls. I remember I used to watch Master Kel roll up vellum scrolls, always stamping them with his seal, before tucking them into containers like this one.
Gripping either end of the container in my hands, I give it a twist and it pops open. I slide out the vellum inside and unroll it. The leather feels soft between my fingers. After reading the scroll I look up at Leif with fearful eyes. I can tell it bothers him because it’s the first time he’s actually seen me scared.
“What is it?” he asks, his eyes searching mine for clues to what the answer might be.
“We have to ride to Sabolin,” I say in a solemn tone.
“Why? What’s the message say?” Lisette chimes in, echoing Leif’s inquiry.
With sadness in my heart, I roll the scroll back up and tuck it back into the bamboo container. Once I’ve secured the message, I look up at my two companions and inform them, “Lord Dathrium has declared war on the holy city of Sabolin. And we have to warn them.”
THE WINDS OF TIME CYCLE
VALANDRA
PART II
15
We arrive at the holy city just before sunrise. The grand monk, Galen Ibaraki, takes our grave news to heart and immediately issues a call to assembly. He orders a couple of monks to secure the gates to the outer wall of the holy city and, with staff in hand, ambles over to the stairs which rise toward an impressive and ornate temple entrance. Once Galen ascends to the top, he turns back around to face the gathering in the parvis down below and, resting on his staff, strokes his gray beard and clears his throat. The idle chatter abates, and with the gravity of the bleak news pressing his brow into a concerned furrow, he speaks.
“It is with a saddened heart that I must inform you all of a terrible crime that has been committed in the once great city of Valandra. I am brought most disturbing news that Lord Dathrium has taken it upon himself to be judge, jury, and executioner and has deemed the Holy Brotherhood of Sabolin enemies to his cause. He has toppled the sacred obelisk and burned the temple to the ground.”
A flurry of gasps and whispers break forth from the crowd. Galen raises his hand high to hush the shocked onlookers and a reticent calm comes over the gathering.
“I know what you all must be thinking,” Galen continues. “We are not warriors. And this is true. But we are not defenseless. I dispatch riders to Bellera this very day to seek the aid of our longtime ally, Queen De Atano, and the Queen’s Guard.”
Galen looks over at me mid-speech and smiles. This draws the eyes of the crowd. It was only moments earlier that I agreed to take his plea to help to my queen who will, I have no doubt, aid Sabolin in its greatest time of need.
While Lisette can hardly contain her glee at the prospect of an exciting new adventure, Leif Ericson decides to part ways with us here. Predictably enough, he declined the request to aid us as there wouldn’t be anything in it for him. Which is, I admit, somewhat of a disappointment seeing as how he so selflessly aided us in our great escape from Igthia. But it just goes to show that when it comes down to it, selfish people like Leif are only in it
for themselves.
In the meantime, however, he lingers about us like an over protective older brother.
“Fear not for your lives,” Galen reassures the anxious crowd. “You are safe here. Although we have only defensive measures, I have had a vision. A vision of a savior who shall appear to us with a fortnight. This warrior will assemble an elite band of soldiers who will, together, enter the gates of Valandra and return order and peace to the once great city.”
As the crowd cheers, it seems things might be all right. But Galen knows as well as I do that Dathrium’s forces will be at the holy city’s gate by nightfall tomorrow. And if recent events have been any indicator, the reincarnated warrior, Ashram, will be leading the army of the dead against Sabolin, a city without warriors.
It will be a massacre. Which is why I so quickly agreed to do Galen this favor. I cannot stand by and let another peaceful city be burned to the ground in the name of a madman’s quest for untold power.
Not only this, but Master Kel held Galen in the highest esteem. It would be a dishonor to my former master’s memory if I turned my back on a friend in need.
Returning to the inn where Galen so graciously set us up, I gather my belongings and wrap up a loaf of bread and six strips of jerky before heading to the stables. Once I arrive, I hear the whinny of a familiar friend and greet my noble steed, Merrium—the truest and most loyal animal there ever was. I take her reins, and Merrium and I walk quietly to the gates of the city before setting out across the great drawbridge of Sabolin’s Easterly facing entrance. As we make our way across the bridge, I suddenly hear an old man’s voice call out to me.
“Arianna De Amato of Bellera, did you think you could just sneak out without saying goodbye?”
Pausing in my tracks, I smile. Slowly, I turn to see the old gray man himself, Galen. He stands just beneath the archway of the gate and leans on his staff grinning at me.
“I suppose not,” I inform him with a chortle. I pat the pommel of my sword, firmly ensconced in its sapphire-embellished scabbard, and bow.
“I see you have inherited Master Kel’s sword,” Galen adds, unexpectedly.
“You recognize it?” I ask him in return, raising an eyebrow.
Galen laughs in recognition. “I’d never forget a sacred sword. Especially one forged right here in the heart of Sabolin. There were only two unbreakable swords ever forged by the Sabolin monks, you know. Yours, the Moon Blade, bluer than the deepest ocean, and its sister sword, forged not of blue steel but of red, called the Dragon Blade, brighter than the hottest fire. Both swords’ scabbards were emblazoned with Dragon’s eyes, the rarest of all gems. As high monk of The Brotherhood of Sabolin, I am well acquainted with the blade you carry, young lady. I am, however, curious as to how Master Kel is doing.”
I bow my head in sorrow. “Master Kel is dead,” I say, my voice rippling with sadness.
“Do you mind if I ask how it happened?”
“Maybe a story for another time,” I say. I bow politely and Galen, with his stoic gaze fixed upon me, bows graciously in return—as if to say he understands. All things have a place and a time.
A long silence passes between us, and no sooner do I turn to leave again than Galen announces, “The warrior in my vision. Aren’t you the least bit curious as to who it was?”
I toss my hair over my shoulder and glance over at the old man who stands under the portcullis of the gate. “I think I have an idea.”
“Good!” Galen retorts with a coy smile. His silvery eyes gleam in the dimming light of the blue hour and almost appear jubilant, even after having received such appalling news from the capital city.
I know he means to suggest it was me in his vision. I don’t put much faith in visions. In fact, I don’t have much faith in anything at all. I’ve never been a spiritual person. Everything I’ve ever needed to get by has been very plainly laid out before me, and if not, well, I’ve learned to do without.
A wide smile crawls across Galen’s face. “I supposed it’s not of utmost importance,” he tells me. “Only that your message reaches Queen De Atano before Dathrium’s forces lay siege to the temple. To Sabolin.”
“You have my word,” I say and shoot him a reassuring grin. “I’ll get word to my people and I’ll bring reinforcements. I promise.”
Galen bows again, and this time he turns and takes his leave. I watch him hobble away, using his cane as a third leg.
Merrium is looking at me, as horses so often do, wondering when we’ll get to doing more meaningful things like riding or grazing. I pat her on her neck and whisper thanks. “Thank you, old friend, for all your patience.”
I lead Merrium across the drawbridge and as we begin to head out of the city gate, I hear a couple of voices call out to me.
“Hey, wait up!”
I turn around and see Lisette and Leif walking toward me. Lisette practically skips up to me and throws her arms around me, giving me the biggest hug she can manage. Leif tows the reins to two handsome brown Belleran quarter horses, known for their agility and quick bursts of speed.
“Yeah, you weren’t thinking of leaving without us, were you?” Leif says with a crooked grin.
“I thought you didn’t want to risk your neck for something that doesn’t divvy out a reward?” I say sourly, repeating his previous excuse back to him.
Leif shrugs, as if to say it’s no big deal. “As it turns out, they don’t have a single pub in this whole godsforsaken place.”
“Hush, now!” Lisette bleats, chastising Leif. She hits him in his arm to drive her point home. “It’s the holy city of Sabolin. You watch your language.”
Leif shrugs again, as if nothing could ever bother him. And I doubt much could.
Lisette turns to me, giving me her best smile. “Besides, we couldn’t let you have all the fun.”
Having my friends by my side brings a smile to my face. Placing my hand on Lisette’s shoulder, I nod at them both and say, “It is good to have you both with me.”
“Be safe, young travelers,” Galen calls out as we pass over the bridge and underneath the giant red tori gate that marks the entrance into the city.
I turn one last time and raise my hand to wave goodbye. Without any further delay, I mount Merrium, and with my hand resting on the pommel of the saddle, I look toward my friends and think, together we can face any challenge.
Placing my boots firmly in the stirrups, I give Merrium a swift kick to her sides with my heels, holler “Hee’yah,” and we’re off.
16
Halfway to Bellera, we rest at a watering hole just before entering the forest of the Dark Elf kingdom of Thananor. The Dark Elves hardly ever bother anyone outside of their borders, and they do allow a trade route to cut through their country, linking Bellera and Sabolin. Yet even so, travelers must stick to the one designated road which cuts through the heart of the forest. If anyone diverges from the path, they disappear and are never heard from again.
“Where’s Leif?” I ask Lisette. She is keeping the horses company as they drink from the small creek we happened upon.
“He said he had to go relieve himself. That was about ten minutes ago.”
“Seems like a rather long time for one to…you know…relieve oneself.”
“Well, he does drink quite a lot,” Lisette adds. It’s funny how she defends him, stating his vice as a matter of fact, as though he is helpless to resist his darker nature. It’s cute how she finds it rather enduring rather than cumbersome. She’s obviously developed feelings for him.
“I’d better go check to see if he’s doing all right,” I say, picking up my sword. I stagger to my feet and shoot Lisette a reassuring glance. “You stay here with the horses. I’ll be only a minute.”
“I sure hope he’s not gotten himself into any trouble,” Lisette says to Merrium, patting her neck. Merrium nickers in reply, as though she were carrying on the conversation, and then goes back to drinking along with the other horses.
Leaving our encampment, I wander i
nto the woods a few yards. Out of the blue, I hear the sound of voices chattering.
Being sure not to step too noisily, I walk toward a patch of foliage. Peering through some shrubs, I see a prison transport of Valandrian guards. I count four of them.
Their prisoner is an extremely attractive young woman with hair whiter than the midday sun. She wears a juniper colored cloak over a sage colored dress, which complements her pale yet angelic complexion.
One of the guards, a stout man with a large mustache, pokes the girl with a stick through the steel bars of her cage as the other three guards jeer and laugh. Flipping her skirt up with the stick, the guard says, “Let’s see what we’ve got under here.”
The woman isn’t wearing any underwear and the men all make lewd slurping and kissing sounds. One of them lets out an obnoxious wolf-whistle as they all demean her. She covers herself with her hands but there’s not much she can do when she’s being kept in a cage like an animal.
Unable to control my sudden rage at their mistreatment of the woman, I take a step forward to teach them a lesson in manners when a hand reaches out from the shadows and grabs my arm. I slide my dagger out and turn to see Leif with a finger to his lips.
Sliding my dagger back into its place, I whisper, “You startled me.”
“There’s two Royal Guardsmen on horseback twenty meters to the left. They’re watching the trees.”
“Watching the trees? Why? What are they searching for?”
“Look at the girl more closely.”
Peering through the opening in the shrubs, I see the attractive pale-skinned woman grow fed up with her abuse and rip the stick away from the prison guard. This sparks another spell of laughter from the guards.
“Fine. Keep it,” the guard says. “You can use it later…while you think of me.” He then makes a lewd motion, pretending to stroke himself, to the unashamed amusement of the other men.