Legends of Marithia: Book 2 - Darkness Rising (5 page)

“
Then let us begin!” yelled
Dryden.

Both men stared at each other and held
their positions, waiting for the other to move. Vartan’s heart
pounded like a hammer to his chest. He felt as if he was choking
from anticipation and breathed deep in an effort to calm his nerves
and focus.

Dryden impatiently drew his sword with
a loud metallic ringing sound resonating through the crowd, ran
toward Vartan and swung hard to the right. Spinning to his left,
Vartan avoided the incoming blade cutting through the air beside
him and returned to his stance.

Dryden mocked him, dancing around the
arena with an imaginary partner on his arm. “Ha! You think dancing
with me will save you? Where did you learn how to fight… the
village of the arts?”

The crowd laughed with him.

Vartan grit his teeth and ran toward
his enemy, pretended to begin to swing left and spun his sword
around to come up into Dryden’s mid-section.

The surprise move paid off.

Dryden barely managed to block the
incoming blow and was momentarily caught off balance. Seizing the
opportunity, Vartan continued his onslaught with a hard kick to the
knight’s side that sent Dryden to the edge of the arena. Shock and
adrenaline rushed through the teenager for being able to land such
a blow on the knight. The crowd gasped loudly at the sight of their
champion taking such hits.

I can defeat him,
thought Vartan.

Dryden recovered quicker than Vartan
had anticipated and he was not prepared for the knight’s
retaliation. Pain hit his senses sharply when he was struck in his
side, and he fell, winded, to his hands and knees. Vartan saw a
flash of light as a fist connected with his face and he dropped
hard to the ground.

Coughing and spluttering, he spat
blood to the dirt.

“
It appears there is indeed
some fight in you, young boy. But you are
not
ready for knighthood. Why don’t
you stop now, hand over your pretty sword and be on your merry
way?” he asked with a smile.

Vartan stood up straight and wiped the
blood from his mouth. He shook off the dust from his pants and
readied his sword shakily.

Dryden’s face turned grim as he
demanded, “Come now, don’t be stupid. Give up.”

No, I will not give up! I
cannot leave now with my tail between my legs.

Vartan’s lips quivered as he stared
down the knight and snarled, “I do, not, yield!”

A large group of perched lemon birds
squawked as if something in the air disturbed them and they quickly
disbursed into the blue sky.

Dryden looked up to King Arman, who
hesitated for a moment and then nodded to continue the
bout.

Dryden kicked forward to send dust
into the air and spun around, sending his sword to Vartan’s left,
which was blocked solidly with enough power to produce sparks. He
continued the onslaught of attacks which were all defended bar one.
Dryden carefully turned his sword on its side to hit Vartan hard in
his ribs without cutting him.

“
Never leave your torso
unguarded,” he grunted, lowering his sword a little.

Vartan, without thinking, began to
answer the knight. “You are right Sir Dryden, that would be…” his
words were interrupted by a solid sweep kick to his legs and he
found himself airborne.

As if time slowed down, he watched as
a lemon bird flew gracefully overhead. It’s slow, rhythmic
movements were beautifully calming before Vartan’s body smashed
into the ground again. He could hear Dryden’s voice ringing in his
ears over the cheers of the crowd.

Dryden chuckled and his voice wavered
as he shook his head, “Never let your opponent distract you or make
you drop your guard.”

Vartan groaned with pain, and he knew
that he had nothing left to fight with. He attempted to stand once
more and his arms were visibly shaking from his burning
muscles.

“
I… will… not…” began
Vartan, his face painting a clear picture of his pain.

Dryden picked him up by the arm and
helped him to a wooden seat nearby.

“
By the gods, are you
trying to end up dead?” he asked, staring into Vartan’s eyes. “I
don’t know if I should think that you’re brave or foolish, but you
cannot continue fighting.”

The guards approached and picked up
Vartan by the shoulders. They began to drag him toward the gate and
Vartan’s head dropped in defeat.

I failed
, he thought.

“
Halt!” yelled King Arman
as guards cleared a path for him through the crowd. Everyone
immediately bowed down in the presence of their king and silence
surrounded them.

“
What is your name?” asked
Arman.

Vartan wheezed with breathlessness as
he weakly spoke the words, “Great… king of Greenhaven… my name… is
Vartan.”

“
Vartan, from where do you
hail and what in the name of Marithia are you doing here? Aside
from taking a solid beating?” he asked, looking over the boy’s
body.

Taking a moment to steady his breath,
Vartan grunted as he shook himself free of the guard’s now weak
grasp, and dropped down on one knee.

“
Your highness, I am a mere
farm boy. I lost my brother… to a shadow demon in the woods. I
want
nothing
more
than to be a knight to protect our people, to protect the great
king who stands before me and to fight the Forces of Darkness that
oppress us!” he proudly proclaimed, before spitting blood onto the
ground and gently rubbing his aching ribs.

The king pondered for a
moment, considering his options before he turned to the crowd.
“What we have witnessed here today
is
incredible courage and I grant
you that… but knighthood does not come easily, or simply because it
is asked for. But before I continue, I believe Dryden has earned
your sword.”

My father’s sword!
Vartan thought, his heart pounding at the thought
of losing it. An idea suddenly revealed itself in his mind as if
implanted from another source.

“
Great King, I never
intended on giving this sword to anybody else but yourself. I had
no other way of proving my worth without agreeing to Sir Dryden’s
request. The sword, is a gift for the king that I long to serve,”
he replied desperately.

The king’s face was full of
surprise.

Vartan placed his sword in both of his
trembling hands and gestured for Arman to take it.

“
You brought this sword
here, for me?” he asked, wielding the sword with his right hand.
When he held it in his grasp, his blood warmed and the diamonds
momentarily glowed. Blinding light from the sword appeared to cast
onto Vartan’s face and Arman heard one word in his mind.

Talonsphere…

The king was momentarily
stunned, staring blankly at the sword.
What does this mean? Is this a trick?
He asked himself.

Dryden’s concern was unmasked in his
high pitched response, “My king, are you alright?”

The crowd began muttering amongst
themselves.

This is no trick, and our
binding is always fated to happen. We are the keepers of the sword
of destiny and you are our new master. That boy is born of dragon’s
blood, and he is the boy of the Talonsphere prophecy.

Arman stared at the hilt of the sword
as he realised that the two figurines were animated and speaking
directly to him in unison.

“
By the gods!” he exclaimed
loudly, taking a few steps back, staring at the hilt of his
sword.

Stay calm wise king, only
you can hear us, speak to us only with your mind
, they said.

But you are moving, can
anybody else see you?
He
thought.

“
Give the king some room,”
said Dryden, helping Arman to the same seat Vartan previously sat
in.

Gasps and whispers could be heard from
the crowd. The people were concerned about their king, it was not
like him to behave so strangely.

As our bearer, our true
forms are revealed to you… all others see only what we want them to
see, which is nothing more than you saw before you held us,
they answered.

You see the destiny of this
boy. Can you show me the destiny of anyone? You can read my mind?
By the gods… what do I call you?
He asked
himself.

We can tell you, our
bearer, the destiny of anyone except that of our true master or of
anyone who shares your blood. You can call us both by the name
Tahlie, as you will never be able to tell us apart,
they teased.

Their diamond eyes lit up once more
and a beam of bright light shone on Dryden.

A great war looms on the
horizon and a horrible evil will kill many of your people. Your
knight, Dryden will play a great part in defending their lives and
he will always be loyal to the throne.

Arman stood up resolutely, drawing his
existing royal sword and embedded it in the ground before him. He
sheathed his new sword, his heart racing with hope and
excitement.

I must protect and train
this boy and his identity has to be kept secret.

The king spoke proudly and resolutely,
“Dryden, take Vartan to the stables and get him started on learning
to see to our horses. But first, take him to one of our healers. I
want him in good shape for his knighthood.”

Knighthood,
thought Vartan with a smile drawing across his
aching face. The guards grunted with annoyance as they returned to
their posts.

Dryden nodded dutifully, heading
toward Vartan.

“
Welcome to Greenhaven,
Vartan, and be careful what you long for because you just got it,”
King Arman said with a smile.

“
Your highness, I thank you
from the depths of my heart, and I will not let you down,” he
replied, before dropping to the ground weakly.

Many years later in Trahoterra,
Vartan’s body stirred as he relived the memories slowly returning
to him. Trisa kept a moist rag on his forehead, the steam of the
magically heated water rising in the air above them.

His mouth opened and screamed,
“Arman!”

Trisa fell back in fright, dropping
the cup of healing potion to splatter on the ground.

All of the dragons in Trahoterra heard
his cry. One by one, they flew to the caverns to check on Vartan,
hopeful for his long anticipated return. Trisa worked tirelessly on
his recovery and she was beyond exhausted. His wounds had healed,
but it was his spirit that she had little power over.

Realising that he hadn’t awoken and that it was only a dream,
Trisa pounded her fists into the ground in frustration, began
crying and laid her head on Vartan’s shoulder. She spoke through
sobs, “I have doomed everyone in Marithia! There is nothing more I
can do, and the Blood Red Moon prophecy has already begun. I am not
worthy to call myself a healer.”

Chapter 4 : Rise From The
Ashes

“
When you see hurt in the
eyes of a stranger, do you feel pity or compassion for who stands
before you?

Vartan and I were destined to meet, and
I cannot shake the feeling that I should find him again.

Do we send ourselves blindly in the
path of danger in the name of faith? Or does faith lead us to where
we belong?”

(Makya, She’Ma’Ryn trader)

Anakari was only 19 years of age,
which was relatively young by anyone’s standards for a sorceress.
She was of elven appearance, and her unique features made it
challenging for her to fit in at a small village on the outskirts
of Marithia. Many human boys had taken an interest in her and
showered her with gifts, but she refused their advances. It was a
mastery of magic that she longed for… not a family life.

She was tall with a slender body. Her
hair was pale, almost silver, and drew envious looks from the other
girls. Her sapphire coloured eyes were like jewels on her pretty
face, but were contrasted by a small tattoo of a crescent moon on
her forehead; a symbol of her occupation and apprenticeship to her
human master wizard, Aldorus.