Rise of the Darekian's, The

by Wood, Andrew

  Despite the quality of food, all three of them cleared the bowls and ate the bread they were given. Sarena checked on Hope, before returning her attention to Luken and Taylor. For the first time since Forwich, she spoke freely about her parents, having lost both during the attack. Her voice started breaking, and Luken did not need the light from the fire to know she was crying. He knew very well the hurt of such a thing, and moved over to her side, placing his arm around her. She leaned into him, putting her head against his body, before Taylor joined in the hug. "Thank you" she said to the pair of them, regaining her composure, "I think I needed a good cry."

  The conversation turned to Taylor, and how he had ended up becoming Lukens adopted son. Explaining it was the last time he had seen his father, once the royal decree was made and it registered in the records, Taylor was legally his. Sitting his son on his lap, "Sarena, adopting this boy, was the best thing I ever did" he said making the bold statement. Taylor gave him a hug and his big smile realising he was the topic of conversation. Sarena looked at the two, they were so happy together; Luken obviously cared for and loved the boy deeply, and Taylor was so affectionate to his father. She would never have thought it possible for a prince to become the perfect father to a young boy he had taken in off the city streets. He had stood up against his father, the king, in defence of the child, it would have been easy just to put Taylor in an orphanage, but Luken had stood his ground. She saw the prince in a new light, not only was the man handsome, kind, caring and thoughtful but he showed a side not many men did. A kind of softness, tenderness and Sarena looked at him lovingly.

  "Luken, do you think you could make it legal for me to adopt Hope?" Sarena asked, catching him by surprise. He was not certain whether he could or not, and was not quite sure what to say, so spoke honestly. "I do not know Sarena, I mean I am not sure how or what I do to make it so." Not giving up, "but you are a prince, and well..." she realised the next part may sound heartless, "well your father is...well would that not make you..." realising what an awful job she was doing of stating her point. Luken knew what she meant to say, his father was dead and Sarena had thought with him being a prince would be able to make a royal decree. Not wanting to hurt Sarena and knowing she would make an excellent mother to the young orphaned baby, "As far as I am concerned Sarena you are already the mother to Hope, I believe Caldar as crown prince would have the authority to make a decree, but in his absence I will do so." Sarena was so grateful, she jumped up and hugged Luken tightly and though he felt a little awkward, he was in no hurry for her to let go.

  Jak once more, made good of the last of the daylight by putting Levin through his swords skills once more. This time he had gotten one of the carpenters, to hastily make a wooden shield. Nothing fancy, just a round circle of wood with a handle on the inside. Tonight's lesson was to be, on how to deflect with the shield, followed by how to use it as a weapon itself. Jak explained to his young pupil how even something primarily built for defence, could be utilised in striking an opponent. Once more Levin acquitted himself well, and the two made use of every last second of light, before Jak called a halt to proceedings. Patting his young pupil on the shoulder, "for someone of your years my friend, you fight very well. However, remember, don't let your anger control you. Sometimes I can see it in your eyes, when we practice. I know you have had a tough time, but stay calm if you can," he smiled. Levin nodded and returned the smile, "thank you Jak, I enjoy our lessons." Jak replied, "So do I my boy, so do I."

  Later in the evening after the Lady Sarena and Hope had left them, Luken and Taylor started to ready for settling down for the night. Laying the sheets on the ground, close to the fire for a little extra warmth, Taylor lay down pulling his blanket over his body, "can I call you dad? Instead of Father," he asked as Luken made sure he was comfortable. It seemed to be the night for strange questions; it was something he had never really thought about before. He had always referred to his parents as Mother and Father, he knew many people used mum and dad instead, and it did sound, well somewhat less formal. Tucking the blanket around his son properly, "of course Taylor, I do not mind, if you prefer to call me dad, then that is fine." Taylor smiled, "goodnight Dad" he said trying the new moniker out for the first time.

  Chapter 14.

  Luken awoke to the realisation that by the end of today they should have reached their destination. It had been a slightly chilly night and there was a dampness to the morning air as well as his blankets and clothing. The thought of waking up in a warm bed was probably some time off, as were the chances of him soaking in a hot bath of soapy water. At least when they arrived in Easton they could use the river as a barrier between them and whatever forces were left wreaking havoc across Corlan.

  Checking Taylor was all right, and helping him dress into some cleaner clothes, the two began rolling their blankets. These would need airing out at some point during the day, but for now, they could keep. He realised how grubby Taylor was looking, and thought he was probably in no better state himself. Travelling they may be, but that was no excuse to walk round looking and smelling like you'd spent the night sleeping in a dung heap. "Dad" the boy complained, as Luken wiped his face with a wet cloth he kept in his travelling bag. He moaned even more when it came to brushing his hair. Not having done so for a few days meant some of it had knotted, and Taylor made sure he was more than aware every time the brush snagged. Once he had finished however, he did think his son looked much more respectable, "There you go, and see that was not so bad was it?" The look Taylor gave did not appear to agree with the statement. "Come on, let's get some breakfast," taking his hand, and making for one of the areas in camp where he could see cooking of some description taking place.

  Hoping beyond all hope, he was getting bacon and eggs; it came as no surprise when both he and Taylor received a bowl of gruel like mixture. This apparently was porridge, though its consistency gave the appearance it could be used for cementing bricks together. Taylor and Luken eyed each other, before looking at the breakfast and then returning to their spot where they had slept. Luken rummaged in his bag, and removed a jar of honey he had filched from one of the wagons a few days earlier. Discreetly he spooned some of the honey in to their bowls, while the pair of them grinned and giggled like a couple of mischievous children, Luken being the worse of the two.

  Once camp was broke and they started to move out, Father Dagon made a point of riding next to Luken and Taylor. Much to his annoyance, this meant Sarena having to ride behind, alongside Levin and Jak. The old man told Luken he had spoken to Sandred the previous evening for quite some time, discussing the reasons behind the prince's poor lack of control. Luken looked at his son and rolled his eyes back, in a 'here we go again' type way. Dagon started the talk by explaining initially how rare it was for the power Luken had to be produced by forceful will. All other cases, Sandred had taught the methods Luken had originally tried that of a calm, relaxed mind. They did not know the reasoning behind this, and the prince was the first of his students to achieve results this way. Realising what had just been said, "Wait, there are others?" he enquired, "you never told me, where are they?" Dagon peered over at him with a look of annoyance, "well quite obviously they are dead. The lunar activity, which bought forth your power, only happens every one hundred and thirty seven years. Sandred has had to wait sometime for it to come again and manifest itself in you."

  Luken shook his head, quite clearly mishearing what had just been said, "If that is the case how could Sandred have taught others? Do you realise Dagon what you say does not make any sense?" The old man scowled at him again then explained that Sandred had taught at least four others and was over seven hundred years old. Before Luken could doubt that statement, he continued further. The reason why Sandred cannot leave the great castle on the Isle of Kelan was if he did, the spell that had kept him alive for so long would fail. If he took one-step outside the walls, he would probably crumble and disintegrate to dust. Luken was very confused by now, no longer was the talk just about h
is magic, it was now about a man several hundred years old and something about lunar and planetary alignments bringing forth some magical power every century or so.

  Noticing his pupil was quickly losing interest, Dagon tried changing the direction of conversation. Rather than prattle on about reasoning and the past he started on suggestions of improving Lukens ability. Up to now, he had forced his will, and it was apparent he was not able to control his ability so just a small amount was used. The latest method was for him to try to use his fingers and hands as a measure of how much power. He was to imagine that a small amount was to be represented by maybe flicking a finger; a large amount would be pushing both hands. The explanation and theory behind it made sense, and it was explained further that the hand movement technically had no effect on the amount of power. The reasoning for it was for his mind to associate the relative hand movement with the amount of power.

  Luken was not overly convinced, though he would try it. After receiving instruction to focus his will, and release the force with a flick of his finger, which in all hope would only release a small amount. The now familiar feeling of rage building inside him, he waved a finger in Dagons direction. The old man yelped as he felt the force Luken had struck at him. Dagon cursed, swore a few times, then cursed some more, hardly the language of a religious man. "Well" he said, trying to look cheerful, "Dagon I think that actually worked, I managed to..." "Smack me in the bloody face with a force of air, like the imbecile you are" the old man interrupted him. With a few more expletives, the elderly man turned his horse about, deciding it was safer to ride further back down the line away from Luken.

  Taylor as usual was overjoyed at his father's successful attempt at magic, and was keen to see more. Luken however, was not so ready to do so; it appeared to him, that every time he used it, he messed up. Knowing how much Taylor enjoyed watching him use it, he thought maybe one more little try. As disastrous as his attempts were, he did like the thought of being able to have magic. Focusing his will again, he targeted the guard riding in front of him and Taylor. Just gently flicking a finger forward, hoping that it would hit with considerably less force than he had just struck Dagon.

  The guard flinched forward, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head. Luken and Taylor dropped their gaze trying hard not to let their giggling be heard. Finding the whole thing utterly amusing and being egged on by Taylor, Luken repeated the motion. Once more, the guard's head jolted forward, and he turned around looking for whatever could have hit him. The man looked entirely bamboozled by the incident, rubbing his head and glancing around for an answer. Despite more encouragement from his son, Luken felt the joke had run its course and regrettably refused. Taylor looked disappointed but understood, "you really can do it," he added with an element of pride. Luken nodded, "I guess so, and I think I need to practice with the whole waving the fingers and hands bit though."

  Caldar and his men rode to the brow of the hill, and where once the huge stonewalls of the city of Hamalin would have been visible, now stood a decimation he would never have thought possible. There was still the occasion piece of wall standing that had not yet tumbled inward on itself, but the once high roofs you could normally see towering over the walls were no longer to be seen. It was not just Caldar shocked by the sight; he knew all the men with him struggled to come to terms with what lay before them. They slowly trotted their horses nearer, joining onto the main road, that once would have led to the south gate and stopping some short distance shy. Caldar and half a dozen others dismounted and travelled the remainder on foot.

  Once inside, Caldar could feel what was once stone crumbling under his feet as if it were chalk. The blowing breeze lifted up wisps of dust, as they continued further in. It was difficult to determine where one building had ended and the next started. As the palace had been the largest building, it was no surprise that it was now the largest pile of rubble and dust. A few items that had been inside the palace when it had collapsed and escaped the destroying light could be seen mixed in. It was also quite clear someone else had been rummaging amongst the remains. He knew it was more than likely, the army of Besemians he had seen heading this way, and by the freshness of the footprints in the dust, they had not been here that long ago.

  Deciding there was nothing more they could achieve by walking around the dust, Caldar signalled to his men to return to their colleagues. They rode in silence, in no mood to talk. They had travelled all the way back to Hamalin just too visually confirm the rumours. Hamalin was no more, and the prince knew that probably meant his parents and brother had gone with it. He had already mourned the loss, and though it still hurt him badly the confirmation did not make it any worse. They moved southwards, deciding to travel a different route than the direct one they had taken to reach the ruined capital. This time they would move south in search of any who may still be alive, and if so forewarn them of the impending dangers that may head their way.

  The sun was out making it quite a warm day, but the tall trees either side of the track cast shadows over them as they continued their journey towards Easton. The Lady Sarena had decided to ride up alongside the prince, now he had seen off Dagon, much to his delight, though he was at a loss, as to what to talk about. Luken gazed into the tree line looking for any wildlife that may make an appearance. Most of the creatures saw fit to stay out of sight, hardly surprising with the racquet the long train of horses and wagons made. He did however catch a few glimpses of a squirrel watching them from a branch, as well as a number of birds of varying types. Each bird he saw he pointed out to Taylor and told him of what type it was, as well as any traits it may have. He was not entirely sure whether his son shared an interest in wildlife, but he did appear to take an interest.

  The tree line abruptly finished, and opening out before them, were rich green pastures. The fields were home to hundreds of cattle and sheep, some grazing, others soaking up the sun's warm rays. The road, still little more than a well-worn dirt track ran to a large white stone structure about half a mile further on. As they neared, Luken was certain he could hear the faint rumble of the River Fivan. Turning his gaze eastwards, he could see the Fivan mountain range far off in the distance, the rivers source. The building before them was a gatehouse, and positioned at the far end of the bridge. Double spanned and made of a much darker stone, the bridge itself appeared in good condition. Unfortunately, it was quickly apparent the building, which towered over it was not so good.

  As he expected the gatehouse, was missing both its gates and portcullis and several parts of its upper battlements were missing. The building in its current state was no more than a glorified archway giving access to the lands beyond the river. Luken quickly realised however, that this one building, would likely be one of great importance. If he were able to arrange the replacement of its doors, maybe this would be sufficient to control whom or what travelled the bridge onto their side of the river.

  Across the other side of the river, he could see their destination. The weeks of travel would end in the next half mile; he could clearly see the tall grey walls of Easton. The first thing that struck was, what appeared to him, how good of a state it all looked. He had expected it to be run down; with no maintenance for over fifty years, it was surprisingly good. Whether it was as good close up was another matter, but already it had surpassed his expectations. Taylor appeared totally in awe at the size of the river, having spent all his life in Hamalin he would never have seen such a thing. Its dark green, grey waters rumbled under the spans of the bridge, some fifty or sixty paces wide from bank to bank. Taking everything into consideration one thing stood out above all else, this was a place that had once been built and manned with defence in mind. With the bridge having its own gatehouse, the wide river meandering around the huge stone city walls, this was going to be the place they made their stand. There would be no more trying to avoid danger, from now on it would have to come to them.

  As they rode across the bridge, and made the right turn on the now much wider road,
which led directly to the city, people started gathering. Luken had thought the only people here would be those he had sent ahead; instead, he reckoned the number to be in the hundreds. Who they were or where they came from he had no idea, but it appeared most of them had been busy working. One of the men he had sent as the advance party approached, and the two guards in front of Luken and Taylor parted to allow him through. He bowed deeply, "your highness, it is good to see you. If I may, I will report on the current state of affairs." Luken gave a nod and the man continued.

  He started by affirming Lukens original thought of the importance of the bridge gatehouse. Already he had several carpenters making a set of thick oaken doors, as well as smiths working on the hinges, lock and protective studding. He anticipated them to be in place within the next two days. Luken was impressed, "where did you find all these people?" he asked the man. "Well your highness, when we arrived early yesterday, word got to the local noble, Lord Galliss. When he heard of your imminent arrival and what you had planned he immediately set wheels in motion, and, well here they all are." As if on cue, the lord in question made an appearance, a tall, well built man with sharp strong features, followed by two other men. One probably a few years older than Luken the other may be a few years more, but judging by their appearance, unless he was mistaken they were relatives of the lord.