David Bishop and the Legend of the Orb

by T. C. Crawford

  Once their work was done, they began the arduous task of taking down their tents and packing away what supplies they could afford to carry with them as they prepared to move camp. With the amount of their forces they lost during the fight, they knew they could not defend against another attack of that scale and magnitude – they would have to relocate and regroup. Their only chance was to move to another location that was more defensible and further away in hopes they wouldn’t be found again.

  Erin was charged with the task of counting their remaining force. During the attack they had lost a significant portion of their fighting force. Erin counted nearly one hundred dead with another hundred or so wounded. That left them with only around two hundred men who were still able to fight.

  When she was finished with her task, she began walking through the battlefield to check for any more survivors. The dead were laying everywhere, scattered across the landscape in what seemed to be an endless heap.

  Erin remembered how unsettled her opponent’s appearance had made her feel and she decided to get a closer look at one of the enemy soldiers lying on the ground nearby. He was face down, so she had to turn him around before she was able to see his face.

  She nearly screamed when she did. He looked white and ashen, but she had come to know that was normal for the dead. What unsettled her was there were already signs of decayed flesh in some places on his face, something that usually took days after death…it had only been hours.

  Captain Ryan came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay? You look a little pale” he said.

  “I’m just a little shaken up, that’s all. It was my first real experience with combat like this. But even worse…check this out. What do you make of it?” she pointed out the decaying flesh on the man’s face that lay dead beside her.

  “What the hell?” Ryan whispered. “That’s strange…hey Jeffries, come look at this. What do you make of this?” he called out to a nearby soldier who was loading supplies on a small wooden cart.

  The man quickly trotted over to where they stood and looked down at the corpse now showing even more signs of decay.

  “That can’t be…” he said, his face suddenly white as a ghost.

  “What is it soldier?” Captain Ryan asked.

  “I…. I know this man” he replied, his hands suddenly trembling.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Jeffries, but we all had someone we knew who decided to turn against us when the capital was overrun. That’s something we will all have to come to terms with in the battles ahead” he said, patting the man’s back.

  Captain Ryan and Erin started to turn and walk away, trying to determine what could have caused the man’s condition to deteriorate so quickly, before Jeffries ran up and stopped them.

  “Sir, I don’t think you understand. I knew this man. I was at his funeral. He died over a week ago… before the coup.”

  “What? Are you sure, Jeffries?” the captain asked, confused.

  “I’m positive…he was my brother.”

  Chapter XXI

  "Tyrius, we’ve been trapped in here for days. Have you found a way out yet?” the King asked.

  “No, sire, not yet. I’m working on it.” replied Tyrius, closing his eyes and patiently waiting.

  “You’ve been saying that since they brought you here. Why are you so certain you will find a way out? Have you forgotten that we are trapped in the dungeons? No one has ever made it out” replied the King, defeated.

  “That’s because an Elder has never been held inside” he said, smiling.

  Almost as if in response, the chains outside began to creak and the metal beam slowly unlatched, allowing the door to gently creak open. Tyrius slowly stood up from where he sat cross legged on the floor and waited patiently.

  The door slowly pushed open and the sound of light footsteps echoed in the dark hallway. The footsteps grew louder as their unseen source approached closer and closer. Finally, the sound stopped and out of nowhere appeared the Master Elder, causing the King to jump in astonishment.

  “Master.” said Tyrius in a deep bow. “What took you so long?” he smiled.

  The Master Elder smiled somberly to his companion. “My dear, Tyrius. There is much we must catch up on. But first, we must hurry. We don’t have much time. The others are waiting for us in the crystal stronghold in the Birthplace of the World.”

  Tyrius nodded and the King gasped in surprise “The Birthplace of the World? I thought that only existed in legend” replied the King.

  “No, no, dear friend. But no time to discuss now! We must go at once!” said the Master Elder hastily.

  He quickly ran his hands over the length of Tyrius’ body and as he went, his body vanished behind the Elder’s hands until he was completely invisible. The king’s eyes grew wide in shock as his friend disappeared before his eyes.

  The Master Elder then walked over to the King and did the same movement with his hands before him, slowly moving down towards his feet. As his hands passed in front of his body, he felt a tingling sensation and slowly Tyrius came back into view.

  “While we are invisible, only we can see each other. However, we still make sound, so please be careful and step lightly!” explained the Master Elder, seeing the shocked expression on the King’s face.

  The Elder waved his hand through the air and was instantly invisible and together the three slowly creeped out of the chamber into the dark hallway of the dungeon.

  As they quietly walked along the dark corridor, they noticed the other chambers were not as full as they once were only a few days before. They silently wondered where all the prisoners had gone as they walked along the dimly lit hallway to the exit of the dungeon.

  Once they reached the dungeon door the Master Elder put his finger to his lips in a motion for the others to be silent and to wait here. He placed his hand gently on the door and a light clicking sound resounded before the door gently eased open, revealing a small sliver of light from the entry room.

  The Master Elder slowly opened the door and waved for the companions to follow behind him. When they reached the doorway the King and Tyrius noticed there were three soldiers sitting around a small circular wooden table, they were all fast asleep. They had a feeling the Master Elder had something to do with their sudden drowsiness.

  They slowly crept by the soldiers towards the stairway leading up and out of the dungeon and made their way into the lower levels of the palace. They each felt a wave of relief as the air changed from the damp, coolness of the dungeon to the more comfortable and less stifling air of the royal palace.

  They could smell the aroma of food being cooked in the kitchen and suddenly the King and Tyrius realized how hungry they were. They had only eaten small portions of stale bread and watered-down soup for the past few days, and that had barely been enough to sustain them. They each longed for a quick stop in the kitchen, but they knew it would be too risky.

  The elder led them along the stairway until they finally reached the ground level of the palace. They came to a doorway that led into the grand entryway behind the staircase to the upper levels when the Master Elder stopped and turned toward the others.

  “We are nearly there; however, the danger is far from over. The entryway is swarming with soldiers, along with the outer garden. Once we pass through the gates, we will have to make our way through the city to the Elder Chambers. If we can make it there, I can get us to the Birthplace of the World quickly” he said.

  He looked old and worn. He may be hundreds of years old, but the age never seemed to show on his face until recently. Tyrius wondered if it was from the conflict, or if his time was finally coming to an end.

  The elder asked if they were ready and both the King and Tyrius nodded. The elder began leading them towards the front entryway to the palace. Tyrius couldn’t help but recognize the changes within the palace. The royal flags had been taken down and replaced with a different insignia with a raven in the center of a blood red circle. Tyrius recogniz
ed the emblem; it was that of the Southern Kingdom that had once tried to take over their land for control of the orb.

  The soldiers that were standing guard at the base of the grand staircase were now wearing the same colors as the new flag: black, white, and red. It was a drastic change from the royal colors of red and gold and he felt it gave them a far more sinister look that left him strangely unsettled.

  As they crept past the first set of soldiers near the staircase, they came to a long open stretch between the stairs and the large palace door. There were several soldiers between them and their exit, each sentry standing in front of the dozens of pillars that lined the walkway to the palace doors. They felt exposed, despite knowing they were invisible to the soldiers as they passed them by.

  They reached the final pillar before the entryway without any incident, however the Elder stopped and turned to the others and began motioning with his hands to wait. They realized the predicament. They had to wait for the doors to open before they could slip through or else they would attract the soldier’s attention.

  Almost as if in response to their desperate need to escape, a loud banging suddenly rang from the large doors and echoed throughout the vast entryway. Slowly the doors began to swing open to reveal a sizable company of soldiers waiting to enter.

  The soldiers wore the same dark colors of the new flag, but their overall appearances were different somehow. Tyrius couldn’t quite make it out, but that feeling of uneasiness grew each moment as the soldiers slowly began their march through the doorway, passingly mere feet in front of them.

  The Elder signaled that now was their time to make their exit and quickly began moving towards the open doors. The other two followed quickly behind, making sure to make as little noise as possible despite the noise the company of soldiers were now making as they marched into the hallway.

  As Tyrius passed by the soldiers he caught a glimpse of one of the passing soldier’s faces and almost yelled out in surprise. The soldier’s face was pale as a dead man, his eyes hollow and sunken, and was void of all expression. It was an army of the walking dead.

  The three successfully slipped through the opening unnoticed and began winding their way out of the palace gardens and through the deserted city streets. The sky was a murky gray due to the swirling clouds that seemed to eternally hang over the city since the King was captured a few days prior. The wind was blowing steadily as if it was storming, but no rain ever came.

  Tyrius and the King noticed the emptiness of the streets, only broken by the occasional patrol of soldiers – a stark contrast to the bustling metropolis that was once the greatest trading post of the kingdom. The destruction, too, was immense. Whole buildings were burned completely to the ground, leaving only a smoking rubble in its place. Abandoned food carts were left overturned with their produce rotting on the ground beside them. Whole communities were left abandoned, their doors kicked in and hanging off the hinges, creaking gently in the incessant wind. It was a sight that left the King disheartened. He had failed his people.

  Here and there the trio would have to stop in an alleyway or doorway to avoid crashing into a large company of soldiers marching the streets, but other than that their journey was somber and uneventful.

  Once they reached the Elder Chambers they rushed inside. It had been ransacked, as expected, but the Elder didn’t seem to care.

  He quickly moved through the hallway towards the council’s meeting room, working his way around the debris and turned over furniture. Once they made their way through the rubble, the Elder flipped over the large, semi-circular table with surprising ease and began tapping the bottom of the table with his fingers.

  He seemed to be tapping in no real order until finally he stopped when the sound changed slightly. He picked up a sconce that had been ripped off the wall and was lying on the floor nearby and began hammering down on the hallowed-out portion of wood. It suddenly cracked open and out fell a small stone. It looked like an ordinary crystal, very glossy and rigid.

  He grabbed it and quickly rushed over to Tyrius and the King. “Hold this” he said, handing it over to the King. “Don’t let go, no matter what!” he said to the King. The King tightened his grip on the stone and suddenly the King and the Elder vanished from the room, leaving Tyrius alone and confused.

  Moments later the Elder reappeared without the King. “What just happened” asked Tyrius.

  “I took the King to the Birthplace of the World.” replied the Master Elder matter-of-factly. “Hurry, we must not waste any time!” he replied, quickly shoving the stone into Tyrius’ hand.

  Tyrius gripped the stone tight, determined to not let go and suddenly he felt like a strong force was pulling him upward and the world around him began slipping away. It looked like he was moving through a cylinder of colorful light, streaking past him in a blur. He closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to be sick, when just as suddenly it was over, and he felt his feet on firm, solid ground.

  The wind was cold and fierce, and he felt small, cold flakes landing on his face. He opened his eyes and saw that he was standing in a large valley covered in snow and rock.

  The valley was surrounded by enormous, snowcapped mountain peaks towering toward the heavens. He turned around and saw the King and the Master Elder standing there waiting for him to stabilize.

  “So, this is the Birthplace of the World?” asked Tyrius in awe. “Why couldn’t it have been warmer?” he said jokingly, smiling for the first time in what seemed like forever.

  The King laughed a hearty laugh and patted his friend on the back. “How right you are, my dear friend!” clearly in a similar state of awe.

  “Come, we have a place where we can get shelter from the cold. The others are waiting.” replied the Master Elder.

  He quickly set off towards what looked like a large rocky outcrop in the valley floor and the others followed suit.

  As they neared the structure, they could see that it had a large opening carved out from its center and there were two burning flames atop stone pillars lining the entryway. Once they reached the opening, they could see a set of spiraling stairs lined with brightly lit sconces that led deep into the ground in a tight circular pattern. The Master Elder wasted no time and began descending the stairs, out of the cold and into the deep.

  As they made their descent, the wind was unable to reach them and the cold air was replaced with a warm, gentle atmosphere that relieved their aching limbs. Tyrius marveled at how precise the stonework was that made the stairway. The joints were still perfectly square and fit together as if they were fashioned from a mold rather than cut from the heart of the mountain. There was also no soot covering the ceilings from the flames, which as he observed, had no apparent source of fuel. They just burned eternally above the sconces providing perpetual light to their surrounding area.

  He followed the Elder and the King down the staircase for what felt like a few hundred feet before they were able to see a landing coming into view ahead.

  At the bottom of the landing the staircase opened up into a vast natural cavern with walls and ceiling that were covered in enormous crystals, all encircling a beautiful mirror-like lake resting in its center. In the middle of the lake stood a small round island covered in fine black sand that had a stone temple resting at its crest.

  The temple was decorated elaborately with pillars and white marble statues of naked figures. Each pillar had torches that were all burning with what Tyrius decided to call the eternal flame.

  Leading up to the temple was a pathway composed of the same, grainy black sand as the island and spanned across the lake towards the doorway to the stairs they just descended.

  The Master Elder led them down the walkway and across the lake to the temple in the middle of the island. When they reached the island the doorway to the temple opened and one of the other elders stepped outside, welcoming them with a heartwarming smile and open arms.

  “You are now about to step into the holiest place in all of Hurea – The
Temple of the Mystics. This is where the Mystics buried their brother after he was slain by the Defiant One and where they decided to give up their lives to create the orb” he explained. He stepped aside to allow the King and Tyrius to enter the heart of the temple.

  It was brilliantly lit within by the eternal flames and had walls of pure crystal, causing the light to shine and deflect in endless arrays of color. The floor was a pure, white marble, and was polished to a mirror finish. Within the temple lay a sepulcher where the slain brother lay. It was made of pure crystal, cut perfectly to the shape of a man in his prime. He lay naked and bare, his hands resting together eternally. It was a beautiful work of craftsmanship and displayed the love and affection the mystics must have had for their brother.

  Beyond the sepulcher was a small doorway that led into another chamber. This chamber was bare apart from a statue of each of the mystics surrounding the room, and in the center between them all was a greater statue of what Tyrius immediately knew to be the Creator God. He was a hooded, faceless figure shrouded in a flowing robe with his arms stretched wide to each side where his Mystic children stood. Each of the statues was down on one knee, looking up to their eternal Father.

  “There are only six Mystics here” noticed the King. “What about the seventh?”

  “After the Defiant One started the war and slayed their brother, they must not have wanted to include him in their brother's eternal resting place” replied the Master Elder.

  “Oh yes, yes. I can understand that!” said the King, shaking his head in awe and disbelief of where he now stood. “So, now that we are here, what is it that we must do? We must take back the kingdom and stop General Krauss from doing any more harm than he already has!” said the King, his voice echoing around the chamber.

  “You are right, he must be stopped” agreed the Master Elder, “The General has come to know his true lineage, which we now know sparked his desire for revenge and ultimately led to his coup. Fueled by the insatiable desire for power that comes with dabbling in the powers of the Dark Abyss, he will stop at nothing to destroy the Northern Kingdom and replace it with his own, twisted version. And worst of all, we learned the General means to unleash the Defiant One, along with his minions, in his quest to conquer the known world and claim it as his own. I am sorry to admit it, but his power is far too much for us to take on alone.”