“The past is behind us, Uncle! Today, we are faced with a threat far greater than anything we have ever encountered before! A threat that once nearly destroyed the world of man! That would have succeeded, had it not been for the collective efforts of all of Man, Elves, and Dwarves combined with the almighty power of the Mystics!” shouted Rex defiantly.
“I do not need a history lesson, boy!” shouted his uncle, pointing his finger at Rex and poking him in the chest. “You don’t have the right to lecture me on what our people need. You lost that right when you walked out on us three years ago!”
“So, you would damn your people to death, out of spite for a man you no longer call your king, and a grudge you hold against your nephew?” asked Rex. “Is THIS the kind of man you want leading you?” he screamed, turning to the crowd. “This coward, who is too blinded by the past to see clearly what is happening right in front of him?”
The crowd began to shout and cheer, chanting “Reximus, Reximus!”.
“How DARE you!” spat his uncle, “You DARE challenge my rule?”
“If you refuse to acknowledge the threat that now faces not only our people, but the world we hold dear, then you bet I do!” cried Rex, fueled by the rage igniting from within.
“So be it!” shouted his uncle. “May the strongest man win!” he said, as he unclasped his fur cloak, letting it fall to the ground and revealing even more of his massive figure. One of the council members handed him a great claymore, and he quickly readied himself for battle, swinging it effortlessly back and forth to loosen up his muscles.
“Rex, are you sure this is the right move?” asked David, alarmed at how quickly the situation escalated and concerned for his friend’s safety.
“Don’t worry lad, this was bound to happen sooner or later” he said, smiling briefly before grabbing his double axe from the strap on his back.
As the two men walked towards each other, the crowd of spectators circled around, making sure to leave a large enough space for the two men to duke it out without putting them in harms way.
Rex, determined to win for the sake of his people, had a raging fire burning in his eyes. He slowly paced around the circle opposite from his uncle, waiting for the right moment to initiate his attack. His uncle sprang forward first.
The King rushed towards Rex with such fury that it nearly caught him by surprise, but Rex was well versed in his fighting techniques from watching him practice when he was a child.
He quickly lifted his battle axe and deflected the blade as it lunged toward his chest. Rex spun around with perfect balance, gaining his momentum, and using it to launch a counterattack at his opponent’s waist. The King jumped back and just barely dodged the attack.
The courtyard echoed with the ring of steel on steel and the grunts of effort that both men emitted as they fought for their rule and their lives.
Sparks flew as the blades clashed time after time in a seemingly endless fray of steel against steel. Minutes went by but seemed like hours as each man attacked and parried, neither man able to get an advantage over the other.
The King lunged at Rex who sidestepped and countered with equal force, just barely missing his uncle’s torso. Time and time again the attacks came, each time narrowly missing or parried away just in time as the combatants circled around the arena in deadly combat. The two were clearly both equally matched.
Rex jumped over his uncle’s swinging blade as it arced inches above the floor in an attempt to knock him off his feet. When he landed, the King swung his leg at Rex’s firmly planted legs. His boot connected with Rex’s right knee and made his knee hit the ground as it buckled under his weight and the force of the impact. Rex gained composure just in time and rolled under his uncle’s swinging blade, narrowly missing what would have been a fatal blow.
He jumped up from his roll, putting weight on his injured knee and quickly buckled under the sudden searing pain that shot through his leg.
As he slowly got up, he realized it was more hurt than he had expected. They began circling each other once again; Rex slowly limping around the edge of the circle of spectators, each holding their breath as they watched from the sidelines.
He watched as his uncle smiled vehemently from across the way, suddenly confident that he now had the upper hand.
“You’ll never beat me, Nephew. You’ve got the same blood as your father, and I was always better than him. Now I can finally get the chance to prove it!” cried the King.
“We’ll see about that” replied Rex, trying to push aside the pain now throbbing in his knee.
He knew if he were going to have a chance at winning this fight, he had to end it soon. He could feel the pain in his knee and knew that it was sprained at the least. His head was getting light from the intensity of the pain. He shook it off the best he could and gathered what remained of his strength for one last attack. It was now or never, life or death.
He dashed toward his uncle, axe held high and ready to swing. His uncle charged and lifted his sword high, ready to meet his nephew head on.
Suddenly Rex tossed his axe over his uncle’s head and ducked into a roll, sweeping his leg around as he tumbled past his opponent. He connected perfectly and the King landed hard on his side, banging the side of his head on the hard marble floor, and sending a spray of blood out across the ground.
Rex jumped up and caught his axe, spinning around fluidly with the grace of a warrior. He kept the momentum going as he swung his axe with all his might just as the King was getting to his knees.
Dazed from the fall, the King lifted his sword up to deflect the attack, but he was too late. Rex’s axe connected, slicing through both of his opponent’s forearms in a perfect sweep sending blood in a circular pattern to splash across the soldiers standing off to the side. His uncle’s hands fell with the weight of the sword as soon as the blade passed through the bone.
The sword tumbled through the air, almost as if in slow motion. He was helpless to stop it as the point sliced deep into his gut, the immense weight of the blade forcing it to continue penetrating through his abdomen and out from his lower back. He fell sideways to the floor, his bloody arms reaching at the blade with hands that were no longer there.
“You…were right, nephew…” he gasped, struggling to retain his consciousness. “I had forgotten what it was like to feel the thrill of combat, to truly feel alive…thank you…for reminding me…. Live long…my king.” Rex’s uncle fixed his eyes on his nephew one last time and smiled before slipping away into the infinite depth of death.
The soldiers all looked around at each other, stunned by what they had just witnessed, unsure of whether or not to attack or stand down, some grabbing their weapons, others already unsheathing them.
“Stand down!” shouted the commander of the men. “Your King has died in mortal combat against a rightful challenger and heir to the throne. You will lower your weapons at once!” he shouted again, defiantly.
Immediately all of the soldiers came to their senses and released their grip on their weapons. The sound of metal clinking on the floor resounded throughout the courtyard as each soldier fell to one knee in a deep bow of respect to their new and rightful king.
“Long live King Reximus Kane!” they chanted, as Rex walked over to his friends.
“Are you two alright?” he asked, walking over to his friends, and seeing the look of horror on their faces.
“I’m okay, how about you Orin?” asked David, snapping out of it, relieved his friend was still alive.
“Yeah, I’m okay too. I was just about to fry that guy had you taken any longer!” replied Orin jokingly with a smile.
David and Rex chuckled at the old mage.
“You’re a real nutcase, you know that don’t you?” replied Rex with a smile.
The smile quickly faded as he considered the death of his uncle, his king, by his hands. He walked over to where he lay and closed his eyes with his fingers.
“Rest in peace, uncle. I’m sorry it had to come t
o this.” he said somberly. “I want his body cleaned up and dressed in the royal colors. Tomorrow we will have a ceremony in honor of our fallen king” he said to the nearby soldiers.
“Yes, sir!” they shouted in unison, and immediately began carrying the King’s body away to be cleaned and dressed.
“The rest of you, get this mess cleaned up.” ordered Rex to the remaining soldiers.
He turned to address his people, still crowded around silently, not knowing how to react to what they just witnessed.
“My people…” he started, his voice booming loud throughout the yard. “Tonight, you witnessed the tragic fall of a great man. He was too blinded to see the truth of what we came here to warn him of – that our world is in danger of being annihilated by an enemy yet unseen, but very real. I will not stand by and let our world be destroyed by monsters!” he shouted, the crowd hanging on his every word.
“Together, with your help, we can take back the throne for our northern neighbor and put an end to the tyrannical rule of his manic general, effectively stopping this threat from ever reaching our borders. But, in order to do this, I need your help, and it will require a heavy sacrifice – the lives of some of our brethren – to make this happen. What do you say? ARE YOU WITH ME?” he screamed as he thrust his axe high into the air.
The crowd exploded in applause and cheers, shouts ringing out of “Reximus the Great” and “Long live King Reximus”!
When the crowds finally cleared out and the companions were once again alone, they sat in the waiting room they had eaten in earlier that day and talked for hours, telling stories and laughing at Orin’s jokes, before finally retiring to their respective bed chambers.
David was led to his chamber by one of the stewards that worked within the castle.
The room was nicely decorated with some elaborate paintings and a couple of highly decorative bronze bordered mirrors along the outer walls. In the center was a large wooden canopy bed with intricately carved posts and a finely woven silky comforter that David felt would certainly keep him warm no matter the season.
He was provided clean clothes so his travelers cloak could be cleaned and hung to dry overnight, so he quickly changed into some silky pajamas before climbing into the oversized bed. He marveled at how soft it felt and how it seemed to mold around his aching body. The pillow was equally as comfortable, and in no time at all, David found himself drifting off to sleep.
Chapter XVIII
Erin and Captain Ryan reached the outskirts of the camp just before the last of the light from the setting sun finally left the sky and gave in to the coming night.
The walk through the woods had been long and hard and she was beyond exhaustion, but when they arrived at the compound it comforted her to know that she was finally in a safe place and that there were others who were loyal to the rightful king. She longed for David and her friends, but for the time being she knew that her place was here. She had to find a way to get to the castle and save Tyrius… if he was even still alive.
The thought of what may be happening to her dear friend filled her with fear. He had been the only father-figure she had ever known. He took her in when she was a young girl and, with her mother’s permission, trained her as his apprentice, teaching her everything he knew apart from magic – since the Elders were the only ones of the race of Man who possessed the gift, and they only passed it on to a select few of their choosing when they were dying – something that only occurred every few hundred years from what Tyrius had once explained.
Despite her courageous spirit, Erin was just a simple girl who was eager to learn all she could about the world around her, and willing to go through rigorous training if it meant preparing her for a life that would be meaningful and helpful to others. That is why she was so thankful for Tyrius – he gave her otherwise mundane life a purpose. She had always looked forward to his instruction, whether it be academics, politics, or chores, but what she particularly looked forward to was the combat training.
Erin had excelled in the physical aspects of her training unlike anything Tyrius had expected or seen in his nearly eighty years of life. She was graceful as a dancer, strong as an acrobat, and swift and precise as a skilled warrior. Before long, she was mastering all the obstacle courses he could make for her, finishing them in record times after only a few attempts.
Her skill with the blade and bow were unprecedented, and as she grew older, she would spar with Captain Ryan for hours on end to the point of physical and mental exhaustion. She could remember the look on his face the first time she bested him, it was a mixture of shock and pride, and she savored that moment knowing it would be a rare occurrence at best – he was the most skilled fighter in all the Kingdom, and everyone knew it.
Tyrius would always tell her that she was a born natural and he was very proud of the woman she was becoming. He always knew what would make her feel special. Now he was gone, taken from her and imprisoned – or worse. She had to get him back.
Erin followed Captain Ryan through the campground, looking around as they walked. It was bustling with activity. Hundreds of people were milling about, setting up tents, cook ware, and other supplies they were able to carry away with them when they fled the carnage in the city.
There were some who had already been there for days, their tents established, and their families settled in, sitting around cooking large pots of stews and roasting small game over little fires. Others who had only recently wandered in, a few here and there each day, were trying to find their place amongst the make-shift village of refugees, hoping to find their lost loved ones somewhere in the crowd. She felt a pang of sympathy for those who had lost family and friends during the takeover. She knew what it was like.
The camp was filled with steady, low conversation and the sound of hammers ringing out as they fashioned and bent metal weapons and tools. She could hear the sharp sizzle of hot iron being cooled in the oil basins as she walked past rows of tents with blacksmiths and metal workers. She watched them fashioning new armor and weapons or repairing ones that had been damaged in the fight.
She could see that everyone, despite their misfortune, kept themselves busy and productive in what had grown to become a little community. There were leather workers sewing clothing and constructing stockpiles of leather armor, leggings, and boots. In other tents sat musicians playing sad tunes, singing songs of the tragedy that only a couple of days before had befallen them while crowds sat around listening, weeping, and reflecting. Others were knitting blankets and bedrolls for those who needed one. They all understood that working was better than sitting still and being haunted by the memories of the attack.
As they neared the center of the camp, they approached a series of larger tents with candlelight pouring from the entrance. As Captain Ryan led her past the opening to the largest tent, Erin caught a glimpse inside of a table with a map spread out across its surface, while a group of soldiers and officers standing around were quietly discussing something, pointing at the map every now and then. A lantern hung from the tent’s central support beam provided sufficient light for the men to see and cast their elongated shadows up the sides of the tent in distorted shapes and sizes.
Captain Ryan continued to lead Erin to a series of smaller empty tents, each with a bedroll and a lantern equipped inside, finally coming to a stop in front of one of the bigger ones and gestured for her to go inside.
“You can take this tent, here. Mine is the one to your left, and the one to the right belongs to one of my most trusted men. You will be safe here. Please, get some rest. We can catch up in the morning, at which time I’ll need you to tell me as much as you can about the events leading up to when we found you in the wagon today.” He smiled and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “You did a great job out there today, keeping it together like that. I know you must have been scared. Tyrius would have been proud of you.”
“Thank you…” she said, unable to voice the myriad of thoughts racing through her mind.
&n
bsp; When he saw she was going to object, he quickly cut her off, “Get some rest and come see me in the morning at first light.” he said, and he turned and walked back towards the large tent with the soldiers at the table and disappeared through the opening flap. Light quickly poured out of the tent before it flapped shut leaving only a thin beam of light pouring across the ground before it.
Erin lifted the flap and ducked through the opening to her tent before climbing onto her bed roll. It was far more comfortable than the one she had been sleeping on the past few nights, as it had some kind of cushioning and a fluffy pillow to lay her head on.
The exhaustion seemed to be unbearable, but she had too much on her mind and felt she would never get any sleep. She wondered where David, Rex, and Orin were at and if they were safe. She wondered if they were looking for her or if they had gone on to seek help from Rex’s brethren in Ravenfell. She missed David most of all. They had been through so much in such a short time, but because of those challenges they had formed a bond of trust and respect that went deeper than most relationships did in a lifetime. She felt she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge her or make her feel silly for sharing her hopes for the future.
She smiled at the thought of their first encounter. He looked so scared and frail, but somehow, he had this sense of strength about him. Something about him was special, not just that the orb had chosen him, but something deeper than that. She longed for the comfort he provided her, the sense of security when he looked in her eyes. She slowly felt herself drifting off to sleep, filling her mind with thoughts of David and longing for the day they were back together.
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David Bishop and the Legend of the Orb Page 16