by Pamita Rao
“Never!” she screamed. “He will be nothing like you. I will raise him to be good, to be kind like the rest of us.”
Creed shook his head in frustration. “He is my son, and he will grow into powers similar to mine. What will become of you when that happens?”
“A child doesn’t know what is evil and what is good. They learn from their elders. Even a child who comes from evil can be molded, nurtured to become—”
Creed’s voice bellowed in the wind. “He cannot be turned good. He cannot be nurtured into something he is not!” He jumped down from his horse and approached her. “He is and will always remain evil, as far as he has my blood coursing through his veins.” He held her face tight in his palms and squeezed. The bones in her cheeks ached and her eyes filled with tears.
“Look into his eyes. Can you not see it, you fool?” His voice resonated through the forest. “From the day he was born, he has only brought destruction into your lives. He is the reason I married your sister, your village Nimah is in ruins because of him, he is the reason you are separated from your family, and he will be the reason you continue to lose everyone in your life. There will come a day, my dear, when you will wish you had ended it all tonight!”
It felt like time stood still. As Alaira considered his words, painful memories from the past few years resurfaced in her mind, and tears trickled down her cheek. Alaira closed her eyes for a moment. She could not allow Creed to rule her mind. He was a liar; how could she allow herself to believe anything he said about Neelahaim? He could not be evil; he was only a sweet boy who saved her from drowning. “You are wrong. He will be nothing like you, and I will not give him up, not till my last breath”
Creed laughed. “Then I shall send you to your grave.” He pushed her away and raised his hands to the skies above. Clouds darkened as a swirl of mist surrounded them amidst flashing lightning and crackling thunder. A whirlwind surrounded them, and a fireball appeared in his palm. His lips lifted in a devious smile, and he swung his hands towards Alaira.
Just then, an arrow sped through the forest, piercing through his palm. The fireball vanished, and Creed yelled in pain. Alaira found the moment to escape and ran along the shore, hefting Neelahaim on her shoulder, while more arrows flew towards them, stabbing soldiers and their horses.
Behind them, through the thicket of trees, appeared five horses. On them rode Horace, Klink, two villagers from Nimah, and on the fifth horse sat a woman; she held a bow, her arms still raised, ready to shoot the next arrow.
“Elora! How did you escape?” asked Creed, but Elora did not answer. She simply aimed her arrow and shot at him. A dark smoke left Creed’s hollow eyes, stopping the arrow in mid-air. He smiled at Elora’s confusion and walked over to where the arrow hovered and flicked it with his fingers. Creed laughed as the arrow clattered to the ground. “Is that all you have, my queen?”
“Kill all of them!” he bellowed.
Before Elora could think, an army of soldiers charged towards them. One soldier swung his sword towards her, but Elora saw him from the corner of her eye and wielded her bow stopping him from slicing her neck. They held each other in a tight lock, both strong enough to kill each other, both unrelenting. After what felt like eternity, the soldier’s sword moved closer to her throat. The blades of steel felt cold against her skin as it lightly grazed her neck. It had been a while since she had lifted her sword.
Over the years, due to her imprisonment, she had lost her strength, but Elora was a trained warrior and she was taught never to give up. She was doing this for her son; she was doing this to save his life. She summoned all the strength within her and pushed his sword back an inch. The two villagers who had followed Elora came to her aid and knocked the soldier’s horse with their own. The horse reared, pushing him off its back, freeing Elora to pursue other soldiers.
Not far away, near some fallen trees, Horace and Klink stood with their backs to one another, shielding themselves with their swords as soldiers approached them from either side.
“I have been waiting for excitement all my life,” said Klink. “I do not know how I feel anymore.”
A soldier charged at Horace, swinging his sword. Horace diverted the sword with one swift move, followed by another that pierced the soldier’s chest, dropping his lifeless body on the ground.
Horace knew how Klink felt. Every day for the past few years, he and Alaira had trained along with Father, preparing for such a day. They had lived in fear that someday they would have to rely on their skills to protect one another from Creed’s soldiers, but nothing would have prepared them for this.
When Elora told him of Father’s death, he had fallen to his knees and cried. Creed was destroying everyone he loved and admired, but not anymore. He would do everything in his power to stop Creed from destroying any more lives, even if it meant giving up his own.
Blinded by rage, Horace severed the necks of two soldiers and caught another in a tight embrace. He squeezed his neck until the soldier stopped breathing and collapsed onto the ground. Another soldier lunged forward and struck Horace in his arm. Horace screamed in agony, dropping his sword, but before the soldier could plunge the sword through his chest, Klink attacked him from behind, hitting him on his head. The soldier slumped while Klink pulled Horace to his feet.
“What do you think of the fight now?” asked Horace.
Klink smiled. “It’s much better than herding sheep on Freddic’s farm.”
The howls of animals echoed through the forest, and a patch of lightning fell on the ground near Alaira as she sped away, carrying Neelahaim on her shoulders. She stumbled on a stone and hit the grass beneath her, but got back on her feet quickly and pulled Neelahaim along with her. The soldiers were close, and very soon, they would capture them both. She clutched her sword tight in her palms, ready to strike anyone who approached her.
Suddenly, Alaira stopped running; her eyes grew wide as she realized that somehow, she had entered a part of the land that narrowed as it approached the sea. She was now surrounded by water on either side, and the only way she could escape was the same way she had entered.
The soldiers who had followed her to the narrow land slowed their pace, realizing she had nowhere left to go. The sea continued to bubble, and tentacles began to surface at the edges, expecting her to dip her foot into the sea, just as she had done before. Alaira’s heart sank. She should have seen where she was going.
The soldiers inched forward, and Alaira took a few steps back. If she jumped into the sea, the tentacles would drown them both, and if she stayed, the soldiers would certainly capture her. She tried to think of some trick to escape, but nothing came to mind. Nothing would save her now. She was trapped.
Alaira let Neelahaim slide off her shoulders and peered into his eyes. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay here until I come back for you.” Neelahaim nodded through his tears, and she left to face the army of soldiers, her sword held in front of her chest.
She lifted her sword just as Walahal and the soldiers charged towards her. There was nothing left for her to do but fight these soldiers, and she would do so gladly. She had once given her word to Elora that she would protect Neelahaim until her dying breath, and she would abide by her promise. Alaira twirled her sword towards the charging army and severed the arms of a few soldiers, but not without a few sharp blades cutting through her clothes, tearing her skin. Alaira screamed in pain but did not lower her sword.
Walahal got in front of them and struck her with his sword. He was so skilled that Alaira had to keep blocking his attacks. At the last moment, before Walahal put his sword through her chest, she saw Elora charging towards the soldier. Elora raised her bow, aimed, and released an arrow that sliced through the heads of three soldiers together. Walahal stopped for a moment, distracted and this gave Alaira the chance to swing her sword forward and strike it through Walahal’s neck.
Horace and Klink, who had just killed two other soldiers, turned to see Alaira draw her sword out of Walahal’s neck as he to
ppled to the ground, blood dripping out of his body, his eyes wide open as if in surprise. The other soldiers watched in horror as their leader dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Creed’s eyes blazed red as dark clouds covered the sky, lightning struck the ground below, and a whirlwind lifted him above the ground. “Enough!” he hollered. “I shall end this now!”
Suddenly an army of soldiers appeared from the forest and charged towards Elora, Horace and Klink. They captured them, and the other two villagers, chaining them and dragging them away while they struggled. Neelahaim cried in Alaira’s arms. She held him to her chest, shielding him from Creed, who now glided towards them.
The wand in Neelahaim’s hand glowed, sensing his fear. Alaira held her hand over the wand and looked into Neelahaim’s terrified eyes.
“You can do this,” she said.
The wand sensed fear in Neelahaim’s mind and turned into a protective shield for both of them. Like a gust of wind hitting someone, the wand pushed Creed away from them. He glided towards them once more trying to enter the shield, but it glowed red, burning him.
He cried and moved back. “You will die!” He raised his hands in the air and called upon his powers with the ancient dialect. A swirling ball of fire appeared in his palm. “I warned you. I won’t ask again. Give my son back to me.”
Alaira shook her head. “Never!”
He threw the fireball towards them. Alaira turned around, shielding Neelahaim. If they had to die, at least they would die together. The fireball broke through the shield and seared her back. Her ears rang, and she screamed in pain, falling onto her knees, Neelahaim still clutched tightly in her arms. Another fireball formed in Creed’s hands, and Alaira closed her eyes in prayer. If they died, then she only wished that Elora would forgive her. She had done all she could, but her skills in swordsmanship were no match for Creed’s powers. Neelahaim wailed in her arms, his scream piercing her ear. It became louder and louder until she felt him lifting himself away from her.
She lifted her head to see that the fireball Creed had thrown towards them had vanished, and Neelahaim was now floating in air, as if possessed by some force. His eyes had turned dark, and his hand clutched a ball of fire just like the one Creed had, but in it swirled bolts of lightning. Creed’s eyes widened in shock as he saw the fireball in Neelahaim’s hand draw the winds, thunder, and lightning towards it.
Alaira could not believe what she saw. The young innocent boy she had raised now looked just like Creed. The ball of fire swirled and sizzled in his hands as she rose to her feet.
“Neelahaim, listen to me!” she screamed as a whirlwind formed around him. The powers within him were evoked from the fear and rage he felt. Creed’s laughter echoed from somewhere, but Alaira could not see through the gust of wind throwing sand into the air.
“After all, what I said came true,” said Creed. “You thought you could stop him from turning evil, but alas, that is not in his destiny. My blood courses through him, and one day he will become like me.”
Neelahaim lifted his hands at the exact same moment. “No!” screeched Alaira. She could not let him do it. The powers in him would take over and she would not know how to bring him back. She had to stop him turning into an evil being like Creed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Death
“You do not have to do this, Neelahaim. I am here, and I will protect you. I will not allow anyone to harm you!”
It was as if Neelahaim could not hear her. He lifted his hand and threw the fireball, which soared through air towards Creed. Creed’s eyes went wide, and he froze as the ball of fire came hurtling at him. It struck him in the center of his forehead, and exploded with a sound that echoed across the land of Myrth. Creed’s body was engulfed in flame, and it burned through him while he cried like a ferocious animal in pain. The flames ate up his body, inch by inch, until there was nothing left of him.
As his body slowly disappeared, a dark shadow emerged from Creed’s body and rose above, hovering over them while Myrth shook, cracks forming in the earth. Creed’s soldiers turned their horses around to flee, but the ground of Myrth opened beneath their feet. Some fell into the wide hole. Others hung to their horses while they slid slowly toward crevice. Some got off their horses and ran into the woods but were crushed underneath trees falling over them.
“Horace!” shouted Alaira as he disappeared into a crack that formed beneath his feet. Her eyes darted towards the trees, where she had last seen Elora, but there was no one in sight. The soldier who had held her in chains had vanished. Oh gods above, keep her safe, she begged. She had always wished that the day she met Elora again, they would embrace each other with tears in their eyes and spend hours remembering stories of their childhood. They would laugh at silly jokes and talk of how their lives had changed. But they were not blessed to have such a reunion. She had to live with the guilt that she aided in Elora’s escape, only to lose her again.
The ground beneath her shifted, and Alaira skidded, trying to hold onto Neelahaim, who had now descended to the ground. She was still unsure of what was happening. Why was the land of Myrth erupting in flames?
“Khala!” Neelahaim cried as fire sputtered from the cracks in the ground. The trees blazed and broke as they fell. Deer ran through the woods, their hides ablaze. Birds screeched as their wings burnt. Alaira had read of such fires in mythology but had never seen one until today. These fires emerged from the ground beneath and destroyed everything that came in their path. They sometimes destroyed entire planets. Alaira did not understand how this happened. Above them, the shadow of Creed still hovered, as if watching over the destruction of Myrth. Was this happening because Neelahaim killed Creed? Was his life attached to that of Myrth? She watched helplessly as the world around her crumbled.
A pile of ash fluttered and fell where Creed had just stood; there was nothing left but his robe. She thought she would feel relief and pride at defeating the most evil being on Myrth, but Alaira felt nothing. Instead, she thought about Creed’s last words. My blood courses through him, and one day he will become like me. Was this the end of a reign of evil or was it only the beginning? Even after his death, he had left her with a fear, a doubt in her mind about her own nephew, which she did not want to harbor. There was no relief for destroying the one who killed so many men and women in the kingdom. She did not bask in the glory of finally defeating Creed and bringing justice to thousands of Myrthians, but instead, she watched Neelahaim.
His eyes returned to normal, and she knew in her heart that he had done it to save her, that he did not have a choice. Creed’s voice still rang in her ears. He is and will always remain evil, as long as he has my blood coursing through his veins. “No!” she said to herself. She would never let him turn into his own father. She would never let him repeat what he had done today; she would keep him from turning evil. Alaira felt a stronger bond between them grow. He protected her. Was this not proof enough that he was good? She opened her arms, and he climbed into her embrace.
Water in the sea bubbled, and the Face appeared once more, followed by a beam of bright rays. Alaira and Neelahaim shielded their eyes as the face transformed once more. From the rays, a man took shape and descended to the ground. Alaira squinted. His golden hair fell in waves around him, and his eyes sparkled in a deep shade of blue. He approached them and knelt in front of Neelahaim.
“You have defeated Creed,” he said with admiration in his eyes. “You are worthy of crossing the sea, but hurry. This land may not survive.”
A golden hue glowed and spread across the sky.
Neelahaim pointed to the sky. “What is it, Khala?”
“The skies of Myrth are catching fire. We will all die if we don’t leave.”
A boat appeared on the surface of icy water. This time, it had oars and it hovered a few inches above the water. The man pointed towards the remains of Creed. Drahim’s pendant peeked out of his clothes.
“Will you not take the pendant along with you?” he asked. “It wil
l protect you from evil.”
Alaira snatched the pendant from underneath Creed’s remains and hurried back to the boat. The man held out his hands for Alaira, but she hesitated.
“I do not intend to hurt you.” He lifted her into the boat and then picked up Neelahaim and placed him next to her. The clouds parted to allow tiny balls of fire to form in the skies. It was as if the skies had taken it upon themselves to destroy Myrth.
The man sat beside them and flicked his hands towards the oars that lay unmoving inside the boat. The oars immediately lifted themselves and began to move, pushing the boat forward in the sea. The man then turned towards Alaira. “Who are you?” she asked, curious about his powers. If he was a man, then why was he hiding behind a face?
“My name is not of any concern to you, but you have broken my curse, and for that, I will forever be in your debt.” He smiled and held out his hands. She did not take his hand, and he withdrew it.
“The Gods cursed me to live in the sea. Many centuries ago, I went against the gods. For fame and riches, I joined the wrong side. The gods could have taken away my powers and my life, but they wanted me to learn from my mistakes. They forced me to protect and guard the gates of heaven, and since then, I have been stuck in the sea. I never thought I would be free. I thought I would live here for eternity, but today, you both have set me free.” He pointed to the pendant in Alaira’s hands. “Keep it close. It will protect you from all evil. Creed must have used it to find you in the forest.”
“But this is Drahim’s pendant. Why would it protect us?”
“What you hold isn’t truly a pendant,” said the man. “I cannot say more about its true nature, but it will keep you safe.”
