Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey

by Steve Windsor

  “But, we have no clue where the gauntlet is.”

  “He’s right Vannera.” Davydd interjected.

  “We’ve been here only three days and someone’s dead. We’ve drawn attention to ourselves by asking too many questions. If I had to guess, that archer sent a warning shot to scare us away. If we continue, chances are he... they will reveal themselves again.”

  Davydd wiped sweat off his forehead which had collected and was dripping from his face. His hair was also matted. Vannera observed him and worried.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Are you?”

  Vannera nodded. He was hiding something from her, as she was from him. She had wavered the night she decided to tell him what she knew. She couldn’t bring herself to as the fear of setting off an unexpected reaction had deadened her tongue. She used her sight to observe his golden aura and for a second, squinted away. It was brighter than before, and was swaying about around him wildly, almost in an agitated manner. Davydd too, was lost in his thoughts.

  He’s lying.

  It was a feminine voice. One he had never heard before but yet, one that sounded so familiar and comforting. Yet it stirred something inside him that was discomforting. Was it an ache or a pain? It almost felt like his soul jumped at the voice. What’s more, the voice was telling the truth. If his little mind game earlier was a shot in the dark, he had literally hit his target when the unseen archer’s arrow struck his. The man was lying.

  Who are you?

  There was no response. Was he going mad?

  “Sam, Max, Leo.” Baximus called.

  “Cover the area and work as a filter between us and whoever might be following us. Ergol, you and your men have helped us this far.”

  “And we’ll help you further still.” Ergol said.

  “That you will.” Baximus said smiling.

  “But not by staying here. In light of new developments, it is important to keep a small group. Ergol, you were once a high ranking Angwelethean soldier, as I was. I need you to go back and rally some of the men.”

  “Baximus, what you are asking is impossible. How can I sway the allegiance of those men from Sidion Vror?”

  “Not impossible. I understand I have asked you a very difficult task. But you know some of the commanders in the army and you have their respect. Davydd needs an army. We cannot do this, fighting our own people.”

  Ergol took a deep breath contemplating Baximus’s words.

  “Get them and come back here as soon as you can Ergol.”

  Ergol nodded and walked up to Davydd. Both men clasped hands.

  “You stay alive, son of Rikard. You stay alive. I will return with men as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you Ergol. I promise to keep breathing for as long as it takes to complete this.”

  Vannera flashed Davydd a glance, which he caught and swallowed hard.

  “And... long after.” He said with a nervous smile.

  “Fair enough.” Ergol said nodding. He looked at the others.

  “I suppose this is where we part for now. Good luck to you all.” And with that, Ergol turned around and began walking towards the door. Leo followed him and handed him a pendant.

  “It’s still daylight. Squeeze this pendant and no one will see you. Its charm should serve you well till you reach the ships where your men are. Ergol nodded and embraced Leo. He turned to steal one last glance at them all before vanishing from sight.

  Davydd turned to Matilom.

  “So, we wait till dusk to move then?”

  Matilom smiled.

  “You are gaining familiarity with my ways. Yes we wait till dusk. We need the rest too. Sangwa is the closest port in Beathaleth to the Field of brave souls. However it is still quite a journey.

  “It’s already been quite a journey.” Davydd said.

  “Not quite yet young one.” Matilom responded.

  “Not quite yet.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN: The Enemy Approaches

  The winds howled and swirled, constantly changing directions, sweeping off sheets of ocean water with it, and ferociously spraying them on the sea vessels that plowed through waves large enough to engulf entire mansions. There were three ships, with the one at the center positioned a bit ahead of the other two. On a raised platform near the stern of the central ship, the helmsman stood against the elements fighting to control the direction of the ship. King Sidion Vror walked up to him and gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. As if buoyed by it, the helmsman fought harder to keep the ship’s control, expressing his struggles through contorted twists of his face. King Sidion had already left and was walking towards the foremast on the deck. All around, crew members were busy scampering and slipping as they struggled to contain and secure parts of the ship against the storm.

  “It seems the gods have granted us an unfavorable journey.” Sidion Vror said as the figure of Farok approached him. Farok nodded in agreement.

  “They certainly are not being kind to us, your majesty.”

  “Mmm. It begs the question: Do they favor him over me?”

  “Him?”

  “You know of whom I speak.”

  Farok nodded. “That I do.”

  “So... your answer?”

  Farok stood silent for a while.

  “If I may speak truthfully your highness, I think they do favor him.”

  Sidion Vror smiled.

  “Good answer.”

  Farok looked on in silence.

  “Why do you follow me Farok?”

  “Your highness...” Farok wore a perplexed look. “You are king of Angweleth. I would follow you unto death.”

  “What if another was to rise. Would you follow them too?” Sidion turned to face Farok for the first time. “If another were to rise to take my place, and become king of Angweleth, would you serve him?”

  Farok took a deep breath before speaking.

  “I am an Angwelethean death class soldier. I serve whoever the rightful king of Angweleth is, for the benefit of Angweleth.”

  Sidion Vror studied Farok for a while. The younger man had an air of honesty about his words. Sidion nodded and then continued.

  “Do you know how I became king of the land of death?”

  “As... I know it... the last king, Rikard, died during the Great War with the dragol. His wife and son were then murdered by Baximus Bastien. You were appointed king by the wizard Nistam, as Matilom refused to do so.” Farok looked down before continuing. “But now, the son of Rikard lives as it turns out. Baximus Bastien is his foster father and along with Matilom, they search for the gauntlet of Feona.”

  “Ah yes. The gauntlet of Feona.” Sidion said, his eyes looking upward as if in thought.

  “I believe I can trust you with these details Farok. What I am about to tell you, no one else in the Angwelethean army knows, not even Trudor. And...” Sidion’s gaze became very fierce.

  “You must give me your word Farok that you will not tell Trudor what I am going to tell you.”

  “My word to uphold your will, your highness.”

  Sidion nodded in acknowledgement.

  “There is a reason the dragol have not been able to attack the human realm again, even with the death of Rikard, and with the sword of Feona missing. You see, the gauntlet of Feona is closed up in a fist.”

  “A fist your highness?”

  “Yes, a fist. It squeezes the heart of a principal.”

  “How is this possible?”

  “It was a spell cast by Rikard Miljorn before he died. You see, the Dragol are all related to each other. Their hierarchy is borne out of seniority and a growth in abilities, from blenders, all the way to the principals. Not all dragols can develop into full-fledged principals. In fact, there have only been ten.”

  “The ten principals.”

  Sidion nodded.

  “The ten principals. Three were defeated and killed by Rikard Miljorn during the war and Balek was killed two moons ago by Davydd Miljorn. The gauntlet of Feona holds o
ne of the principals’ hearts. One killed by Rikard. He spelled it so that no being with a similar life force could ever cross into the human realm without having it’s life force completely torn from it while crossing, hence killing it. It worked for a time. But alas, it only served as prolonging the inevitable.”

  “The dragol still cross over.” Farok observed.

  “Yes, but only a few at a time. They developed a way to harness enough chaos energy to send themselves here for a certain amount of time before they had to go back. Every year that passes, Rikard’s spell weakens considerably and more dragol can cross over, for longer periods of time.”

  “If I may ask, how do you know about the gauntlet’s current state?”

  King Sidion paused for a while before answering.

  “Because I was the one who had it removed and stolen.”

  Farok’s shock was indescribable.

  “W...Why?”

  “It really was a favorable card dealt me by mother fate. You see Matilom had been killed during the Great War, just before Rikard Miljorn’s death. However, he had cheated his way back to life and used a considerable amount of his power to conceal himself from Lady Feona. No ordinary mortal would have been able to take the gauntlet off of Rikard’s body. However, there are always a few extraordinary mortals living at any given time. Matilom was one such mortal, but he couldn’t do so without breaking his concealment. The other such mortal is Nistam.”

  “You had Nistam take the gauntlet.”

  “Yes. And it was he who sensed the nature of Rikard’s spell. On his advice, I gave the gauntlet to a trusted servant and instructed him to stay back in Beathaleth. I knew that many would search for the gauntlet. Bringing it back with me to Angweleth would only serve to endanger the kingdom.”

  “Your highness, where in Beathaleth is the servant you left behind?”

  “Sangwa. Though he does not know we are headed his way. He ceased sending me word long ago and I dared not pursue the issue. We after all were doing this right under King Darius’s nose. If he were to find out, the consequences would be dire.”

  “What happens if Davydd finds the gauntlet your highness?”

  “If he finds it, it will respond to his Miljorn blood instantly. He’ll unfold the fist, and release the spell. The annihilation would be over before we take our next breath.”

  Farok stood in silence as king Sidion’s intentions were finally becoming clear to him.

  “So you see I have to try to stop him. There has to be another way. I have to bide time.”

  “As you have been doing all these years... Your highness...” Farok said before continuing.

  “Where do I come in?”

  “Ah good question.” Sidion smiled.

  “In the event that I draw my last breath too soon, I want you to take command of Angweleth’s army until Davydd Miljorn is ready to do so.”

  Sidion Vror smiled at the look of shock on Farok’s face.

  “But... your highness...”

  “Remember what you told me Farok.”

  Farok fell silent.

  “I intend to continue on my path. I have been on this road too long to sway and I will test his mettle. If we should cross swords again, one man will prevail and that man will be your king. Whatever you do, do not let the dragol sway you as they swayed me and as they have swayed Trudor.”

  Farok looked down and away as his thoughts momentarily moved to his comrade.

  “Come now. There is much to tell you about the gauntlet, but we have to start with its previous master, the left hand of Feona, Rikard Miljorn.”

  In a room situated in one of the spires that had elevated from the parched surrounding land, the tall figure of the principal Omni paced back and forth in thought. He had just returned from the realm of the humans, and the news he’d received had left him salivating at the thought of endless possibilities. With Angweleth more or less left without their king, all he and his siblings had to do was wait patiently. It did not matter how long it took. They knew that one day, the spell of Rikard Miljorn would completely wane and they were prepared to bide their time till the very day. However, the possibility that Rikard’s own spawn would let them lose from their ‘prison’ was ironically satisfying and encouraging.

  How pleasing it is that the hope you worked so hard to build and gave your life for is going to be torn down by your own son. No revenge could be sweeter.

  But this was not revenge enough, for Omni planned to destroy everything Rikard stood for along with the humans. Not a single soul would be spared at the end. It was the only way he could appease his fallen siblings. Omni turned to look at the four marble stone caskets that lined the right wall of the room while vertically standing. On the caskets’ slab like covers, was a hexagonal shape, and three of them had a soft organ placed in it. The organs were red in color, with two being a very pale red, while the third was still a fresh deep red. As he observed the caskets, another figure walked into the room from an opening in the adjacent wall.

  “I knew I would find you here.” Viritania said as she walked up to Omni.

  “I am merely sharing our progress with our brothers and sister.”

  Viritania stared at the caskets for a while. Her amber colored eyes settled on the casket with the deep red organ in its hexagonal holding.

  “I can still feel the life force from Balek’s heart. He hears you brother.”

  “They all do.” Omni turned to Viritania. “Are we prepared?”

  “Yes Omni. As we speak, Firon is gathering the rest of our forces together.”

  “Good. Let us hope our wait is not a long one.”

  “No matter how long it is, I would wait an eternity.”

  Omni nodded.

  “Our time will come Viritania. When it does, gods and humans alike shall perish beneath our breath and claws. I will keep them alive just long enough to see us rise above them, while they fall back into the chaos they have so long doomed us to.”

  Almost as if in response to his voice, both Omni and Viritania could hear a large, resounding and deafening roar below. They walked out of the resting place of their siblings, unto one of the numerous platforms jutting out of the structure, and looked down below. When the multitude of dragol gathered below saw them, they roared even louder. Omni and Viritania scanned the surrounding land to see that it was filled with a sea of dragol, as far as the eyes could see. Their army was finally ready for war.

  Dusk was fast approaching, as the group trudged ahead on horses procured by the trio of Sam, Leo and Max. There were seven horses in all, with Davydd and Vannera sharing one. She sat behind him on the horseback, resting her head on his back, her hands wrapped around him. They had been travelling for four days through open lands and scarcely traversed dirt roads, purposely avoiding the main paths Beathaletheans used, so as not to draw suspicion. As dusk approached, they found themselves on a rocky path, with high rising rocky hills on either side. The path and rocks were caked with white dust; a product of the rocks being battered repeatedly by forces of nature. Matilom’s eyes rested on what appeared to be caves in the side of the hilly landscape to the right.

  “We’ll rest there for tonight.” He said, pointing to the caves.

  “Oh that’s good. My thighs are screaming for mercy.” Sam said as they began heading towards the caves.

  Once they got there, and were dismounting their horses, Davydd tapped Baximus on the back.

  “Father.”

  “Yes Davydd.”

  “Walk with me for a moment.”

  Baximus followed him for a while as they put some distance between themselves and the caves.

  “What is it Davydd?” He finally asked.

  Davydd turned around and took a deep breath.

  “Back in Gor, at Matilom’s underground lair, I asked you... about my mother.”

  Baximus looked down.

  “Why have you told me nothing about her father?”

  “In time my boy.”

  “Matilom said these s
ame words that day Father. It’s been four moons. How much longer must I wait for the answers I seek?”

  “Davydd...”

  “Father!” Davydd yelled. “I tire of the secrecy. I’ve noticed the way you, Matilom, Ergol and Vannera approach me these days. You are almost scared to look at me. Ever since I fought Balek, you act... like I’m different!”

  “No son... it’s not...”

  “Where is my mother? Who is... or was she?”

  “She’ll come to you in time.”

  “She’ll come to me? Is she here? Is she safe?”

  Baximus laughed.

  “Oh she’s safe indeed. Very safe. Davydd, you aren’t different, you are a special person. You have both your father and mother in you.”

  “Why can’t you tell me?”

  Baximus looked at Davydd for a while.

  “You’ve been told a lot of things that have been hard to digest Davydd. For once, I’d just like for you to hear it from someone whose words might just have more meaning for you, than mine would ever be.”

  Davydd slammed his hand on the rocky wall beside him.

  “Leave me be for a while.”

  “Davydd...”

  “Leave!”

  Baximus took a step back in surprise at the outburst.

  “Alright Davydd... I’ll leave you alone.” Baximus turned around and walked back to the caves, while Davydd sat on a huge rock and looked down at the path below. He stared at it blankly, lost in thought. The last few moons had been a blur. He hunched over as he felt the weight of the moment crushing him, willing him to break. His mind flooded with thoughts:

  If you fail, Terrianus is doomed.

  If you fail, Vannera and the others will perish.

  If you fail, Jaynea’s death, your father’s death would have been in vain.

  You have no idea who you really are.

  Davydd wasn’t sure when the thought crept into his mind, when he decided to cede to it, or even when his body reacted to it. What he knew, was that he was running as fast as he could, somehow pushing away the fear. The wind rushed through his face as he ran faster and faster. He had no destination in mind but at this point in time, anywhere but with them would do. He stumbled as he ran but kept going, until he was in an area of the terrain, he did not know. He looked behind him and realized he couldn’t retrace his steps. His mind could not think clearly now. Davydd slumped to his side and then rolled to his back. His right cheek was caked with the dust from the rocky ground around him. He could feel it in his hair as well. He didn’t care. He merely looked up at the sky as the stars became increasingly more visible in the ever encroaching darkness. Peace. It was all he asked for and all he wanted. His life was just fine before this. He wanted to forget it all. He wanted to forget that he was the rightful heir to the throne of Angweleth. He wanted to forget that Baximus or was it Ovar – he didn’t know anymore – wasn’t his true father. He wanted to forget Matilom and his students. Vannera... What about her? The thought hurt like a knife through the heart. Davydd closed his eyes and tried not to think. Not long after, he was fast asleep.