Saving Olympus- the Dark Army

by R D Wolfe

  Darien had thanked the grey-skinned man, feeling he had finally found a friend who he could trust. Perhaps “trust” was too strong of a word, but Darien felt like he understood the red-bearded man enough to know Totra-Dal would live up to his promise if Darien ever came to collect, unlikely as that might be.

  The three riders traveled in silence, Darien not wanting to interrupt Evatra’s somber mood. She had just gained her niece back, only to find out her father was someone who she seemed to barely tolerate. The decision to leave her with Totra-Dal had been difficult for her. Darien could see the continued worry in the lines of her face. Evatra hadn’t woken up the sleeping child before leaving, trusting Totra-Dal and the other marauders to let her know where she had gone. This wouldn’t be strange for the girl, who had grown up watching her own mother live as a marauder.

  Evatra’s main concern, she told him the next day, was how she would take news of her mother’s death. “She’s such an innocent child. I know she’ll blame herself. She needs to know that it’s not her fault.”

  Darien allowed Evatra to talk, responding only when the time seemed right, or he had some piece of advice he thought would be helpful. Mostly he kept his peace.

  By the third day, he was wondering when the city would come into view. They had been driving the horses at a rapid pace, Darien wanting to get to the city as quickly as possible, and Evatra wanting to leave it just as quickly. The Scillan rode with them in silence, listening to their conversation and offering little when given the opportunity.

  “Will you stay in the city, or go back with Evatra to the marauders?” Darien had asked, after sitting in silence for over an hour.

  “I don’t know,” the pale-faced rider replied. “I suppose it will depend on what the king and his people have to offer me that I can take back to my own people.”

  As the sun was setting on the third day, Darien felt a knot in his stomach. He had expected to at least see the city by now. Evatra apparently shared in this desire, as she didn’t suggest they stop as she had on the two prior nights. As they ascended a particularly large hill, taking care to avoid the rocky ravine dropping off to their right, Darien caught sight of a keep, just beyond a hill. It was stone, circular, with a thatched roof, tall enough to watch the surrounding countryside over the city walls.

  “Is that the city we seek?” the Scillan asked.

  Evatra nodded. “We should stop here for the night.”

  “But the city is right there!” Darien protested, eager to be done with the travel.

  “It’s further than you think,” Evatra said. “We won’t reach the city until midday tomorrow. It rises up from the valley around it, making it seem that it’s closer than it really is. Trust me, tomorrow will be here soon enough, and this journey will be over, at least for you.” Her thoughts clearly lingered on Atreya.

  He wanted to argue, but she was probably right. Darien had wanted so badly to reach the city, though he wasn’t looking forward to being apart from Evatra. He enjoyed spending time with her, even if it was limited to riding together. Several times, he had found himself watching her, trying to memorize the angular lines of her face.

  Stop that. You’re going to see Kara soon.

  The next morning, the trio began their ride into the city, each of them eager to finally reach their destination. As they approached, more of the city came into view. The walls were about twelve feet high, made of solid gray stone, similar to the ones sticking out from the surrounding hills. Throughout the walls were slots that looked perfect for archers to be able to fire through, and along the top appeared to be a walkway with what looked like crossbows, he recognized them as some sort of mounted ballista, spaced at regular intervals. Straight ahead were two massive doors, thrown open wide, welcoming the many figures milling about. This was a city unlike any that Darien had ever seen before. It was as though the medieval castles he had read about at The Academy had jumped out of the pages. The images in the pages were in black and white, while what he saw before him was in bright, vibrant color. It made the city itself seem to be alive.

  “Darien! Thank the heavens you’re alright!” a voice called out.

  Darien turned in his saddle, and saw Chorrun galloping towards him, dodging about in the crowd of artisans, farmers, and others hauling goods through the market as he came from a large lake to the west of the walls of the city. The lake had been previously hidden behind farms scattered in the fields surrounding the city. Darien waved happily, relieved to see the familiar face.

  “Are you safe? Did they harm you at all?” Chorrun asked in hurried anxiousness.

  “No, nothing permanent anyway,” Darien smiled. “It’s a long story. Where’s Jodin? Lotry?”

  “Both fine, I sent them back to Taitron after we reached the city,” Chorrun looked past Darien to the other two.

  “Chorrun, let me introduce Evatra and… well they don’t really have a name, but you probably know that.” Darien motioned to his riding partners.

  “But they’re not…?” Chorrun looked mildly panicked.

  “Marauders? Yeah, they are. It’s a long story, and I don’t think you want me to tell it to you out here. Can we go somewhere more… private?”

  The faces of the crowd watched Darien and Chorrun talk, clearly curious about this stranger and his friends. A few of them whispered excitedly into their neighbors’ ears, glancing at the group as expressions of skepticism and mingled excitement, flowed about.

  There were a few races here that Darien didn’t recognize. Beings with vibrant, purple-hued skin stuck out from the crowd, and others with singular eyes, directly in the middle of their foreheads, rose above the rest, but Darien didn’t let himself focus on anyone but Chorrun for the moment. He would ask about the others later.

  Chorrun nodded and led the trio through the narrow streets. Trolls milled all around them, some showing shock at the different races, others seeming too busy to lift their eyes, clearly used to all kinds of people walking through their city. The group made their way to the city’s center, where the keep that Darien had seen earlier rose up from the grey stone of a castle.

  “This place is a lot different than Taitron,” Darien whispered to Chorrun, who gave Darien a wry smile.

  “You’ll find that every city, every village, has its own surprises. Each people shape the land around them in their own way.”

  They turned down another side street, people staring as they rode by. Darien spotted another new race scattered among the passing trolls and goblins. They were long-legged, slender, with a pair of dainty, barely opaque wings tucked tightly against their backs.

  “So, what are we doing here, now that we both actually made it?” Darien asked the centaur.

  “First, you’re going to meet King Aghemnon,” Chorrun replied. “He will want to show you his hospitality while you wait for the rest of the Four. It’s a rare opportunity for him. The Four usually arrive so close to one another in the city that there’s almost no time to entertain them, so the King is looking forward to it. From what I heard last night, another has arrived already, coming from the Fairy villages just beyond the mountains.”

  “Do you know who it is? I mean, did you get their name? The other one who’s here?” Darien’s heart was racing. He was minutes away from seeing someone from home. Could it be Kara?

  “No, I haven’t heard,” Chorrun shook his head. “After the other members of the Four arrive, you will gain the first of the weapons here, and begin your journey towards Olympus and collecting the other three.”

  “You mean the first weapon is here? In this city?” Darien asked in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to obtain one of the weapons so quickly. If everything else went this smoothly, he could help defeat Cyprin and make it home in no time at all.

  “Fenway Castle, as old as the Cycles themselves,” Chorrun nodded, focusing Darien’s attention to the structure ahead. “That is where we are headed to hold council with the King of this city. He will supply you with direction and provisions t
o aid you on the rest of your journey. That is, once you’ve all arrived.”

  Darien examined the castle rising out of the city as they approached, his mind still whirling in excitement at the thought of seeing his friends and gaining one of the four weapons so soon. The castle’s color was gray like the rest of the city, though lighter than the surrounding stonework, making it look almost white in comparison. Twin turrets rose from either side, the right higher than the left, giving the castle a tilted appearance. The group passed through the outermost gates of the castle, which Darien thought to be at least thirty feet high.

  As they entered the courtyard, the castle doors opened, and a group of fifteen or so trolls came out to meet them. Evatra and the Scillan dismounted their horses and Darien glanced at them before following their lead. A troll made its way over to lead their horses towards a stable in the corner of the courtyard, the animals clopping gently away.

  The group of trolls looked to Darien like some sort of royal procession. In the front were four trolls, clad in polished plate armor, which scraped against the stone as they walked. Each held a razor-sharp halberd tied with a white garland. Behind them were three flag-bearers, each carrying a different pattern, all clad in red and gold clothing. The one in the center, the highest, matched the flags hanging throughout the courtyard and flying atop the keeps and watch towers. Darien guessed this to be the flag of Farkland Reach itself, a simple white shield, bearing a red lion’s head and three swords, on a blue backdrop. Behind the flag bearers were two elegantly dressed trolls who did not walk in step with the others. Their clothes were brightly colored, with fur lining the neck and wrists.

  Finally, the approaching group stopped. The four trolls in front planted their halberds into the ground with a soft thud, holding them upright, as the flag-bearers behind them filed through the gaps. They set their posts into the ground like the four behind them, tilting the flags forward. The two on either end let the corners of their flags hover just an inch off the ground, without touching the walkway, letting the center flag fly higher than the others. The seven trolls stood motionless as the well-dressed ones began to make their way through two small gaps in their forward guard coming to stand before the three newcomers. Chorrun had moved off to the side as an elderly male figure stepped forward. Endless canyons ran across his gray skin, and a scar peaked on his left cheek. His brow furrowed as he beheld the travelers. Darien wondered at the troll’s age relative to Totra-Dal. If his captor had shown no signs of his advanced age, then this man must surely be ancient.

  “Chorrun, is this the one we have been searching for?” His voice sounded like that of a much younger man, friendly, unwavering, but still demanding respect.

  “It is, Your Majesty,” Chorrun replied with a soft bow.

  A broad smile crossed the troll’s face, deepening the crinkles around his eyes.

  “Welcome to Farkland Reach!” his voice became jovial. “Your appearance here brings this world, and your own, hope for the days ahead. I trust you’ll enjoy your stay here. Please, let us go inside and offer you our hospitality! We can also discuss how we can best spend your time within our walls, and how we may be of assistance to you before you begin your journey.”

  The King motioned for them to follow, which they did, making their way into the castle. A light breeze ran through the entryway, cooling the air inside, as the path opened into a grand hall. The room was enormous, larger than any that Darien had seen before, discounting the arena at The Academy. His eyes darted around, trying to capture every possible sight as they made their way through. Portraits and busts lined the walls, each of a regal troll in serious poses and expressions. Tapestries detailing the stories of peace and war fluttered slightly as the group passed them.

  Continuing onward, they reached a staircase at the rear of the large room, which wound upward to a terrace on the floor above. When they reached the top, they entered a room with a long table, surrounded by twenty or so chairs.

  “These are the council chambers, where the high council of Farkland Reach meet a few times each year to discuss civil matters pertaining to our people. The council for the coming year is yet to be elected, so it lies useless for now. We can speak here.” Aghemnon gestured to the chairs and made his way to his own.

  Aghemnon sat at the ornately decorated chair at the head of the table. His counterpart, the woman who had not yet spoken, sat directly to his right, and another well-dressed troll, who had been in the room when they entered, sat to his left. Motioning for the rest to join him, Evatra and Darien sat by the woman, Chorrun and the Scillan sitting on the opposite side, Chorrun kneeling on a pillow made to accommodate his size. They all sat in silence while the King spoke to a servant, who left through a door concealed in the wall of the room.

  “Once again, we welcome you to Farkland Reach,” the King turned back to the group. “My name is Aghemnon, and I am king of Farkland Reach and the surrounding lands of Hiranor. I want this conversation to be informal, if you all are willing. None of this ‘Majesty’ or ‘Highness’ nonsense. We have serious business to discuss here in the coming days, and your success is more important than courtesy.”

  “So tell me,” Aghemnon leaned back into the soft cushions of his chair, “who has been brought to us this Cycle? I know of the worlds you come from, but I do not know you, and the history of the Four is something of a hobby, though I think Chorrun may rival me in that.” Darien glanced at Chorrun who gave a sheepish smile to the King. “Come, tell me of yourself, let’s have your name.”

  “Uhh,” Darien stood, a little confused by the question. “My name is Darien Glade, and I’m a human from… uh, from Earth.”

  “Splendid!” Aghemnon said excitedly, not seeming to notice, or care about Darien’s awkwardness. “I cannot wait to get to know you and the others before you leave. How long will we have the pleasure of keeping you? I know you have a long journey ahead, and this is only your first stop.”

  “I, uh… I’m not sure.” Darien stammered, looking towards Chorrun who answered in Darien’s place.

  “Once the other members of the Four get here, they will have to leave quickly, Your Highness. In fact, it is a wonder the other two aren’t here yet, given Darien’s diversion. We need to discuss that as well. Would you allow me to ask Darien some questions about where he has been, and who his companions are, Sir?”

  Inclining his head, Aghemnon spread his hand and made a sweeping gesture to the room, indicating that Chorrun could proceed however he wished.

  “I think I should simply let you tell the story,” the centaur turned to Darien. “Last time we exchanged tales, you were informative enough. So, from the time that we ran into the forest, I think it best that you give a full account of what happened to you. Perhaps it will shed some light on where the others might be as well.”

  Darien glanced at Evatra, who nodded at him encouragingly, giving her permission to reveal whatever he thought he had to. Darien then began to recount the story of the last week, starting with his capture by Kort’s raiding party, his introduction to Totra-Dal, and his subsequent deal to keep himself hidden. He continued by introducing Evatra to the room, telling of their raid and the ensuing battle. Darien left out the details about who they suspected the warriors to be, only saying that they brought one of the bodies back for the Scillans to inspect.

  The King looked at the pale-faced individual before turning back to Darien, his face alive with the adventure of the story. “Please, continue. We will come to the others in their own time.”

  Nodding, Darien talked about his second meeting with Totra-Dal, skipping over the part where Evatra had pinned him with a knife to his throat. He didn’t think they would appreciate the fact that someone sitting in front of them had threatened a member of the Four. He finished his story with the Wraith and Atreya, his decision to help the child, and his release from the marauders.

  When he fell silent, the King clapped his hands several times. “What a tale, what a story indeed! That is compelling enou
gh for a play and performance. I may have to have you sit with an artist before you leave here!”

  The woman to the king’s side, whom Darien took to be the Queen, coughed, causing Aghemnon to turn to her.

  “Huh? Oh yes, yes, there is more to hear,” he said. “Evatra, is it? Please, do you have anything to add to Darien’s story?”

  “No sir,” Evatra said, shaking her head. “The only thing I have to add is a request. I want to return to my people as quickly as possible. The child that Darien freed is my niece. Her mother was killed when the wraith attacked, and I’m eager to get back to her. She’s the only family I have left.”

  “Of course, of course. As soon as our business here is concluded, we can resupply you for the journey back. We wouldn’t keep someone who so aided a member of the Four, regardless of what kind of life they lead. Just be sure not to cross any of my patrols once you return, eh? I’d hate to see you here under different circumstances!” The King winked at her, and Evatra gave a quick, uncomfortable smile.

  “Now, Scillan, it seems that you have some important—”

  The door opened a crack, and a figure, dressed in robes which seemed to trap every hint of light, entered the room. Darien tried to see something, anything through their darkness, but not a hint of the face underneath the hood could be made out. It was as if the night had clothed itself in darkness and entered the room. It was unsettling. Chorrun rose, followed quickly by Evatra and the Scillan, the King having stood when the figure opened the door.

  “Ah, Darien, let me introduce you to the other member of your party,” Aghemnon said gleefully. “This is Sir Ristvahkbain, from Terrae, if I’m not mistaken. He arrived just yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Darien looked between the dark figure and the King.

  “Why,” the king chuckled “he’s another of the Four, of course!”