The Ancients

by Adam-Clay Webb

  Viknor’s face grew grim. “Zedra…” he muttered to himself.

  “This is our new agenda!” the king said, sounding proud and unstoppable, “Tomorrow we will begin with two assaults! A thousand of our men will crush that eyesore of a village that this legendary fighter protects, and our remaining 23,000 men will devour Hercule!” Aragan laughed when he saw the look on Ki’s face. Certainly, Hercule had at most a half of this number of men. “After this war, there will be no more Hercule, and Libson will finally be in my grasp!” the king declared.

  Had I the energy, I would slay them all where they stand, Azar thought. He was still breathing heavily.

  “Should I have you all killed here, or will you leave to die tomorrow?” the king asked.

  “You will rue your decision,” Ki said, “Viknor, get us out of here!” In a cloud of purple mana, Ki and his allies left the place.

  That Marco, the Magmalian S.G almost said out loud, I will finally get to kill him. I hope I am the one to slay the prince as well!

  ***

  “What do you mean you cannot spare any of your forces?! Was all your jabber about protecting Libson empty and meaningless?!” Kyle flared. There was a grand meeting with all the army generals and heads of state in the Herculean province.

  “Azar, talk some sense into your right hand! We all heard the threat that your father made! If we do not defend Hercule with all that we have, we will crumble under Aragan’s fist, and then Libson will meet its rapid descent!”

  “It proves a hard decision indeed,” Azar considered.

  “Mister Prime Minister!” Hercule’s Supreme General said, a middle-aged man named Giovanni, who was almost as feared in his day as Blade was. “Are you certain you can see nothing wrong with putting your trust in the son of the man who plans to destroy your people?” He glared at Azar, but Azar understood quite well his position, and held down his head.

  “You idiot!” Kyle started. Azar grabbed on to the boy quickly, quieting him.

  “My apologies,” Azar said. “Yes, I know it must feel awkward having me here, but believe me, I want to stop my father as much as the rest of us.”

  “And how can we be certain of that?! Lord Ki, this man is no longer a wizard, you say. Do you still fear him? We can kill him now if you command! Do not forget the struggle our ancestors endured, the bloody price they paid just to break away from the bonds of Magma Land. Our forefathers turn in their graves at the sight of a Magmalian Prince in our courts!”

  “General!” Ki blasted.

  “It is alright,” Azar said calmly, “I can appreciate his apprehension.” The Magmalian drew from his waist a fine sword. A half of the men there, Giovanni first, drew their weapons hastily.

  “Easy!” Ki said, sounding a little shaky.

  Azar took from about his neck a nearly unnoticeable pendant. There was a small green gem hanging on it, which was usually hidden beneath his clothes. He rested it on the table, looking down at it pensively.

  “What is this?!” Giovanni asked. Kyle looked at Azar in as much wonder as the rest of them.

  “A sacred stone found by first generation Magmalians,” Viknor said musingly, staring at the seemingly glowing object. “The flame rune.” All eyes turned to the old mage, then back to Azar.

  “That’s right,” Azar said. “Legend has it that once this gem is passed down through the Magmalian generations, through the king’s lineage, the empire shall never fall… I was given this gem by my father on my eighteenth birthday, as is our secret custom… It is more precious to us royalties than the very crown.”

  Slowly, Azar positioned the tip of the shaking blade over the stone. He hesitated for a long while. Finally, though, the blade was steadied. “After I destroy this gem, never again will I wear a Magmalian crest… After this war… I will build a new empire… and together, with Hercule, we will be the guardians of Libson.” There was a thick silence. Not even the wind spoke for a while. Suddenly, the silence was shattered like the stone. “No more am I the Magmalian Prince.” Again, there was a serious silence. “And after this war, there will be no more Magmalian empire!” Azar declared. There was a sudden roar of accord in the House of Hercule. But Giovanni, in all this, kept his disapproving glare.

  ***

  “Hold it!” one of the guards arrested, standing quickly.

  “Greetings,” Azar said, “We are here to see your leader.”

  “And just who are—”

  “That’s the prince of Magma Town!” the other guard said scoldingly, trying to whisper.

  “Our apologies, Lord Prince!” the man said, bowing.

  “Where is Blade?” Azar asked with a straight face.

  “He is not here at the moment,” the same man said.

  “Then where is he?!” Kyle asked, sounding like he could kill them both out of annoyance.

  “We cannot say,” the other guard said nervously. Kyle drew his sword immediately. Viknor grabbed on to the boy. As soon as the eyes of the guard met those of the sorcerer, something quite strange happened. A faint purple glow emanated from the guard’s eyes for a little while, but a moment long enough for it to be noticeable to Kyle and Azar. Then, the man collapsed.

  His companion tended to him quickly. “What did you do?!” he blasted nervously.

  Azar and Kyle looked at the old man with questioning faces.

  “The ancient Zakatian cave. He trains there daily,” Viknor said.

  “You read his mind?!” Kyle asked, no doubt impressed, but not so as Azar, who had doubted the existence of such techniques in the science of sorcery.

  Viknor laughed a little. “Let us go.” He grabbed on to them and the three disappeared in a purple cloud.

  Even before the purple mist began to clear, Kyle felt a chilly feeling against his neck. As the mana moved away, Azar realized that Blade was in the midst of them, standing behind Kyle, the legendary Zakatian sword made by Oga millimetres from the youth’s Adam’s apple. A smirk came upon Azar’s face. Viknor could hardly believe what had happened.

  “Still slow as always, Kyle,” Blade’s chilly voice came from behind him. The youngster’s eyes were bulged wide. He was shaking. He had no time to make any move of defence. He heard Blade snicker lowly, then he felt the chill disappear, as Blade’s sword was recased.

  “It’s been a while, Blade,” Azar greeted.

  “Too long.” Blade grabbed the man’s hand firmly. Kyle finally turned to see him. “I see you now serve the great Hercule,” Blade greeted the old wizard.

  “Indeed,” Viknor replied proudly.

  Kyle was grinning. He tried to hide his excitement, but such a thing was more difficult than defeating Blade. The legendary swordsman rested his hand on Kyle’s head, on his rugged hair. “How has your training been going?” he asked the boy he used to tutor. “I trust Azar has been teaching you well.”

  “Blade, a war is upon us,” Azar said bluntly, not giving Kyle a chance to respond.

  Blade said nothing for a while. “Hm… What’s going on?”

  “My father is going to strike Hercule and Zakashi Village tomorrow.”

  Blade didn’t seem frightened. “Are you surprised?” he asked Azar. “Do you plan to oppose him?”

  “How can you be so easygoing?!” Kyle blasted. Sunlight streamed down through the cracks in the roof of the cool cavern.

  “He who panics loses,” Blade said. “Do you know what number of men the king will send to my village?”

  “A thousand,” Azar answered quickly.

  Blade seemed slightly fazed by this news. “I am my village’s only defence… I have disbanded the ruins of the small army we had. All of my men are rebuilding the village and trying to make good business with sword-making and other crafts.”

  There was a despondent look on Kyle’s face.

  “Hercule has only 9000 men, and more than twice that will strike them tomorrow,” Azar said.

  “In short, they cannot spare any of their forces,” Blade deciphered.

  �
�Right,” Azar answered.

  “Where do you stand? Will you fight against your father’s army with Hercule?”

  “I will,” the reply came without hesitance.

  “I see.” Blade’s face was still straight.

  “There was a meeting earlier. Ki wants you to get all your men to his safe-houses in Hercule,” Azar told him.

  “No,” the reply came quickly, and seemingly without consideration.

  “Are you insane, Blade?! If they stay here, they will be slaughtered by the Magmalians!” Kyle said. Blade looked to the sky through a hole in the roof as another thick cloud covered the sun again.

  “My people might perish if left in Hercule. The Magmalians will be met by one man when they appear here. My people will be safe in the Zakatian fort. I will guard the shrine with my legendary sword.”

  “Are you crazy, Blade?! I know you are strong, but these men are ten hundreds!” Kyle said, wondering if Blade really understood what he was being told.

  “In this cave lies the presence of Zakashi himself,” Blade explained. “By training here with this blade that was given to him, I have attained his strength.”

  “Unbelievable! I didn’t know you as one to utter such nonsense!” Kyle said.

  “Are you sure these men will be only a thousand?” Blade asked.

  “Blade, please reconsider,” Azar said calmly, and not like he thought that Blade was being ridiculous.

  “Thank you for warning me. I will prepare my people and await the enemy. Good luck to you Azar, Kyle, wizard. Defend Hercule well. This war shall be the fall of the Magmalian Empire.”

  “If we can, we will send aid to this village,” Azar said. “Farewell.” With that, Viknor shifted away with his companions.

  Chapter 2: War for Libson

  It was dusk. A white wall of grand defence lined the noble city. The sun had chased away the clouds and was watching from its place. On the highest hill of the city stood a tall tower that was made for such occasions. Ki, Giovanni, Kyle, Azar, Marco and Viknor stood there, from which they could see all the white troops from the spyglasses. The parade of soldiers, from where they stood, looked chillingly beautiful, and it would be a shame the chaos that they would fall into.

  ***

  “Greyner, you shall lead the attack on Zakashi Village,” the king commanded, “Your troops leave immediately. I have sent orders down the line to adjust your regiment.”

  “My king!” the Supreme General came in, sounding very displeased, “Why am I not the one to lead the attack?!” the Supreme General complained.

  “You will be leading the main attack, general!” The king sounded annoyed. The soldier laughed; he just wanted to hear the sound of such a grand statement.

  “I will not fail you, my king,” High General Greyner said, bowing slightly, “I will make the finest U.S.G this province has ever seen.”

  “You best. I will send you with two thousand men instead of one,” the king said, “Hercule will feel proud in defeat if I send so many men to conquer them.”

  “Wonderful, my lord!”

  “Zedra!” King Aragan summoned, grabbing on to his wrist. The witch appeared in a cloud of redness. “You will do as planned. Get the commanding generals to their positions and accompany Greyner to Zakashi village. As soon as your spells are through, waste no time tarrying before returning to my side.”

  “Yes, my king.”

  ***

  It was about a month before that the reconstruction of the Zakatian keep was complete. It was far more secure than it had ever been. With walls of thick concrete eight meters high and ninety-six columns of stone and steel, the building which nearly fully centred the village covered many acres. Every house in the village was empty. Packed inside this one building was what remained of Zakashi’s race, Blade’s people. Sitting on the roof of the building was the single man who vowed to protect the village, his legs folded and his eyes closed, his sword cased before him. He was the legacy of Zakashi. Blade had told his villagers that a mere handful of men would strike. If he had told them even half the truth, there would have been no order. People would have panicked and abandoned the village, probably to be killed by soldiers on their way there.

  ***

  “Prime Minister Ki, I beg you, send even a thousand men to Zakashi Village!” Kyle pled, even like his own family was living there.

  “You must understand, young one, my forces are already on the brink of insufficiency. There is nothing I can do for—”

  “Old man, just how strong are you?” Kyle asked Viknor, cutting off the Prime Minister.

  “Heh.” There was a sudden smirk on the man’s face, like he was itching to answer such a question. “Let’s just say… in my prime, only one sorcerer could rival me.” Azar glanced over at him, curious to hear the rest of his words. He wanted to know even much more than Kyle the limits of this man’s sorcery, and how he came by becoming so adept. “Decades ago, when I had far less experience and far more vigour, I had my reasons for attacking the Ogal Council that sits in Notherland.” Viknor almost laughed, seeing the look on Azar’s face. “I was quite impressed by the council’s leader, Catherina. We two were the only magicians I knew that had achieved sixth grade sorcery, that is besides my father, who himself visited even the seventh state.”

  This man’s father?! An arcane sorcerer?! Azar thought, finding such things more impressive than being king of the world.

  “I clashed with her many times. I tried my best to kill her, and she me. She didn’t want the other councillors to get involved with our battles. I’m pretty sure she didn’t want them to know that there was a sorcerer she had trouble defeating herself. One day though…” The man laughed a little, remembering everything clearly. “As I was about to defeat her I am sure, she called upon the council. They immediately made a barrier with a spell it took the seven of them combined to wield, and there was no escape. The barrier covered about a cubic mile. Not even my level of shifting could have gotten me out of there. Quite nifty those councillors were. There within the barrier I faced and battled the seven councillors.

  Their strengths put together gave them an edge over me, and victory became more than just difficult. I stood my ground, though, until my mana was completely depleted.” He began laughing again. “It was the best fight I ever got myself into…” His face changed to a more serious, more pensive countenance. “But the price for such a thrill was barely worth it… When I could no longer put up a fight, after hours of battle, they bound me, and combined their strengths to cast upon me a forbidden technique, an Ogal spell that was supposed to seal away my magic forever. Then they deported me to the town I told them I was from, and I was thrown in the prison here. They still kept me bound with the anti-magic ropes, probably doubting the integrity of their sealing spell.”

  “Then how are you still a sorcerer?” Azar asked, “And why stay in prison? I’m pretty sure you could have gotten out even without my help. You fought the entire Ogal Council?! Just what manner of wizard are you?!”

  “Enough stories! Look! The Magmalians approach!” Giovanni gave out. “Viknor, go! Get word to all my men that the enemy is only a few miles out! The mounted archers shall now attack!” Giovanni commanded the wizard. With that, the old man vanished in purple.

  Without ado, the few who stood in the lookout tower took turns to spy through the eight glasses. Indeed, masses of black and red were zoning in from every side. Kyle wondered immediately if the soldiers had reached Zakashi Village as well.

  “Please, Prime Minister, send a few of your men to Zakashi!” Kyle pled again, “Viknor will transport them there. If you do not, the village will be destroyed!” Ki heard the desperation in the boy’s voice and saw it in his eyes. Azar noticed that Ki was actually considering it this time.

  “He and I will lead the company,” Azar said, “as Herculean commanders.” Kyle looked up at Azar, who just moments ago was the Magmalian Prince.

  ***

  “Finally,” Blade muttered under his br
eath. Circling Zakashi Village with a radius of about a mile was a sudden appearance of red mana. A panting Zedra appeared beside the mounted Greyner. Only he was on a horse, and he carried a sword and a Magmalian flag. The witch looked like she had just survived a day-long battle. She held her head as she nearly fell.

  “Are all my men here?” Greyner asked the woman, looking about. Soldiers were everywhere. They looked giddy, and there was much chattering and excitement. Just moments ago, they were many miles from the village they could now see clearly.

  “Yes, General. Your two thousand men are surrounding the village with a mile to cover.”

  “Good,” the army man said, then snickered a little. “Then send out the signal let us march to our victory!”

  “Right away!” Zedra panted some more, then raised her right hand, her palm flat on the sky. “Close your eyes,” she warned those nearby. Then a bright beam of red mana jetted up toward the clouds. On the signal seen by two thousand men, there was a sudden roar and the sound of an earthquake, as Magmalians advanced to finally crush the Village of the Sword. Greyner rode through the waste mana left behind by Zedra’s disappearance.

  Blade sat on the roof unmoving as hundreds of men trampled the sacred grounds of the village of Zakashi, son of Kizer, and his descendant, Blade. In moments, the entire village was invaded by the Magmalians, who appeared numberless to one another.

  “Halt!” the commanding general Greyner shouted, and the soldiers did as commanded. The shrine the lone swordsman was on was thickly surrounded. The soldiers looked up at their enemy. There was chattering and confusion. They had found it strange that they had seen no one to fight thus far. Somehow, finding this one swordsman sitting on a roof was even stranger.