by M J Webb
“Resting?” replied Ben. “That’s where you were while we were fighting, having a nap? I’ve heard everything now! Gellsorr, you’ve been asleep for hundreds of years for Pete’s sake. The last thing you need is more sleep,” he said, half joking, but still a little upset at just how close they had come to being wiped out because of the dragon’s disappearance.
Gellsorr knew the young boy was only teasing, but he still felt like he needed to explain. “Yes, I know. You are right, Ben. However, you must understand that this body, these muscles, have not seen action in all that time. They have suffered from inactivity and they have grown weak. I have been in almost continual flight since the battle at Dassilliak, I needed to…”
“Ha ha ha…”
Ben suddenly burst into one almighty fit of spontaneous laughter, to the amazement of his friends. He was in hysterics and he really couldn’t stop himself. Eventually, the others began to laugh too, responding to his incredible delight more out of relief than anything else, for no one knew for certain the source of the joke.
Finally, Ben squeezed out an explanation of sorts between giggles. “…trust us to find the only dragon in history with gym fatigue! Ha ha… Now then, that I can understand, Gellsorr. Don’t worry yourself about it, we all have our off days. That’s a very human reaction actually, and it’s one which will draw no Mickey taking from me. Everyone, apart from Jake that is, needs a little breather every now and then… Ha ha ha…”
* * *
In the royal chambers at the palace of Dassilliak, one of the very few buildings undamaged by King Vantrax’ onslaught, his chief adversary and brother, King Artrex, was finally coming round from the coma induced by the wounds he had received in the battle. The leader of the Ruddite Rebellion had lost a lot of blood. His arm had very nearly been severed and he had come perilously close to death. He was still very groggy and incredibly weak, and if that were not bad enough, at the moment of his waking his eyesight and mind seemed to be playing tricks on him. Everything around him was blurred and what’s more, he actually felt as if he were floating in mid air!
In the bleariness, he could just make out the dark figure of a knight towering over him, though he could not discern who it was no matter how hard he tried. “Zephany, is that you?” he whispered faintly, his voice low as he struggled to speak.
An immediate surge of excruciating pain shot through his injured arm as a rough and coarse hand was clasped tightly across his mouth. The urgency of the action could not be mistaken. Artrex could not move a muscle despite his discomfort. He lay still, imprisoned and pinned down for several minutes by the unknown stranger, unaware of his identity or intent. His mind began awakening slowly and it returned to recent events, as he waited anxiously and helplessly to learn his fate. He pictured the battle of Dassilliak in his thoughts, the wounds he received there and his daughter’s astonishing bravery, along with the courageous exploits of Lord Castrad and the rest of the warriors from the rebellion, as well as those of the soldiers from the Estian Alliance. The charge of the Estians had saved his life for certain, just when all had seemed lost. But, he could remember absolutely nothing after that point.
Gradually, the King’s eyesight began to clear. However, the firm hand of the unknown warrior remained fixed firmly across his lips. Artrex stared at the figure above. Slowly, his vision returned fully and the mysterious knight’s identity was revealed.
“Knesh!” the King hissed as best he could through the warrior’s fingers. His heart leapt and skipped a beat at the same time. He could not believe what he was seeing. His best friend and Gerada was dead. And yet, here he was, as clear as anything, holding him down?
Artrex flicked his eyes upwards. The ceiling above him was barely a foot away from his face, though the dark shadow cast all around them told him that they were in the corner of the room, as far away from the candlelight as they could be. Once he realised that the darkness was deliberately intended to conceal their presence, he began to understand why he had felt as if he was floating. He was!
The King nodded gently to his old friend, letting him know in the only way he could that he understood what was happening, and had at last regained his senses. Knesh released his hand very slowly. He placed a finger to his lips, instructing the King not to make a sound. Artrex looked down, sensing extreme danger all of a sudden. Beneath them, not twelve feet away but completely oblivious to their presence, was a party of three formidable Thargw warriors. The terrifying beasts were busy dressing themselves in their armour, preparing for battle, or about to leave on some patrol.
The two old friends and rebels were both experienced combatants. They remained as quiet as possible as they waited patiently for the Thargws to leave. Artrex stared disbelievingly at the image before him, at the chiselled features of the loyal companion who had sacrificed so much so that he might live, to continue the fight against King Vantrax and restore the stones. A solitary tear rolled down his cheek.
The door eventually slammed shut as the last of the Thargws left the room. Knesh then lowered his hands and Artrex’ body immediately began to fall very slowly, until it finally rested once again on the bed.
“What is happening?” began the King.
Knesh placed a finger to his lips once more. He rushed to the door and placed his ear against it, listening for any sign of activity on the other side of the wood. Then, he placed his head right through it, right up to and past his shoulders. He searched the corridor outside with his eyes. Once he was certain that they were alone and would not be disturbed, Knesh retracted his head and returned to the astonished King.
“Ra! That is some trick!” stated Artrex, now feeling a little stronger. “It would have been handy when you were alive?”
Knesh laughed gently. “Yes sire, I suppose it would. It is good to see you again in this life. I thought you were too badly wounded, too far gone to save. We all hoped you would pull through, but we did not believe it, all except for Tien and Zephany, they never gave up.”
“Tien? He saved me?”
“Yes.”
“Krr… Zephany? How is she?”
“She is well sire, for the present,” replied Knesh.
Artrex knew immediately that there was more behind his friend’s guarded reply. “Go on. I am sensing somehow that things have not gone well for us?”
“No. And yes, my King. The Battle of Dassilliak was lost. Our people have fled. They are being hunted by a powerful force of darkness. But, we are stronger now and we gain in strength with every day that passes. We are no longer alone. We have an ally in the Estian Alliance. Your daughter now leads them.”
“Zephany? She does?” replied King Artrex, amazed. He smiled proudly, a smile which betrayed to Knesh that he always knew she would achieve great things. He nodded his head a little with satisfaction. “…And you, my old friend? How is this…?”
“Possible? There will hopefully be a time for explanations. It is not now. In death, I serve the Heynai, but I also serve you still. The very moment you feel that you are able to move, we must leave.”
“Yes, but go where?”
“I must take you away from here, out of this city. I have to get you to somewhere you will be safe. Then, we have to find some way of joining with the others, at Te’oull,” stated Knesh.
Artrex looked surprised. “Te’oull? In Siatol?”
“Yes sire. That is the place, the battleground on which will be fought the last encounter in the war of wars, spoken of in all our legends and tales. Though we did not realise it, my friend, we have been fighting it all along. It is here. It is upon us! The final conflict will be there, at that city. We know that now. The ancient battle between good and evil which has claimed so many lives and consumed this great land of ours, is yours and mine to wage. It will be won or lost not in our realm, not in Rhuaddan, but at Te’oull. Ironic, is it not? The prophecies handed down to us are all coming true!”
Artrex was filled with a sense of destiny as he listened to his great friend. His chest
swelled and his eyes narrowed. “Yes Knesh, and we will play our part! We must go,” stated the King, resolutely.
He tried his best to move but he could not. His arm was wracked with pain and the slightest movement sent his head into a spin. He was shocked, embarrassed, frustrated. “I… I am sorry, I cannot move!” he cried.
“No sire, your wounds are too severe. You have been revived early with the help of the spirits, but your body cannot cope with the demands being asked of it. Your strength will return to you in a day or so. For the moment, we are going nowhere. Rest, my King. Sleep, and let Tien’s magic do its work. You are destined to play an important part in this war yet. You will have your place in history, I swear it. It is written. You must rejoin the Keeper, or all will surely be lost!”
Chapter 6
31st August - The City of Te’oull - Siatol
‘Four of the strongest are chosen, to wait for the one who will come,
to help restore that which is broken, to see that the battle is won.’
Crouching behind the walls to the ancient city of Te’oull, Jake West and the warriors of the Estian Alliance awaited their first encounter with an enemy far more deadly than any they had faced to date. They were about to come under attack from an entire army of flying monsters. The situation was looking increasingly dire for the beleaguered and weary defenders. For Jake, the whole incredible scene he faced was like something out of a horror film. The skies before him were full now of the terrifying beasts, assassins raised by King Vantrax for one solitary purpose; the complete annihilation of his enemies. The lead revalkas were closing in on their position and the fight for Estia was about to commence.
Princess Zephany barked out her orders as loud as she possibly could, instructing her archers to fire at the fast and manoeuvrable creatures as they tried to descend, the very instant they came into range. A salvo of well aimed arrows followed almost immediately. The poison-tipped weapons sped towards the aerial armada and the warriors in the Estian ranks drew a collective breath. Thousands of anxious eyes looked on in desperation, hoping and praying with all their souls that the herethdar toxin Jake had secured was lethal enough to work on the mythical creature’s intent on sealing their doom. Every single warrior defending Te’oull on this day, every civilian onlooker, knew for certain that if it was not, if the vile creatures were somehow immune to its effects, then they were all about to die horrible deaths.
Meanwhile, some distance away from the epic battle which would decide the future of so many worlds, somewhere within the Kielth mountains, Sereq had finally returned to the rest of the Heynai spirits. His last encounter with Jake and Tien, followed by the detour he had made to help Ben, had taken a lot longer than expected. Sereq was wracked with guilt and full of remorse. He was agonising over the thought of abandoning his people, even though he knew deep within his heart and soul they were making the right decision, and really had no alternative. In the relative safety of the dark, damp cave, the four spirits had no respite from the terrible storm that was brewing. Sereq was quiet and thoughtful as he rejoined his comrades, but he knew they had run out of time. He sighed and, without pausing, he spoke.
“The hour is upon us,” he said, his voice calm but with an air of finality about it. “We must act now. For the sake of our people, for the hope of all, we cannot linger.”
“We are ready, Sereq,” replied Terristor. “We stand with you, as always. We will not falter. Know that we will follow you until the very end.”
Sereq smiled warmly at each of the spirits in turn. Then, he held out his hands in front of him. The others did likewise and a neat circle was formed. Each of their fingers were spread out wide so that the smallest digits touched those belonging to the spirits on either side. Silence descended upon the mountainside in an instant, the ferocious wind ceased to blow all of a sudden and the howling, swirling breeze within the cave disappeared. The whole mountain range became deathly quiet, unnaturally so.
“Drea viatheluss exalem amstrallion heutt.
Etierr all krruull treothe.
Vexzienn seeall Ball hallaph praass!”
Then, from every conceivable corner of the cavern, a mighty tempest erupted without warning. Rain, wind, hail and lightning rocked the mountain to its very core. Outside the cave, the air was still and calm. But, inside its walls, the four spirits were experiencing one of the greatest storms in Estian history. Dust, dirt, rocks and leaves began flying in all directions. Some of the airborne debris passed right through the spirit’s transparent images, as they battled hard to concentrate on the task in hand. As the incredible rainstorm grew even further in its intensity, the ghostly wizards suddenly began to change their form. Their translucent, lifeless figures unexpectedly began to transform into real life, actual bodies!
“Do not be alarmed,” cried Sereq, fighting to make himself heard above the incredible noise. “We have made our intentions clear. This was to be expected!”
The ‘spirits’ were in real danger now. Having been transformed into flesh and blood, the rocks and stones being hurled violently around the confines of the cave by the tremendous wind began to hit them. Hearts which had felt no blood running through them for centuries suddenly began to beat far too rapidly. Pulse rates raced way too high and bodies newly transformed began to flinch and sweat profusely. Hands and fingers which were once again able to touch and feel were all of a sudden shaking uncontrollably in fear. Bruises, swellings and cuts appeared where they were hit by flying rock.
Sereq sensed that it was far too dangerous to proceed without taking action. Reluctantly, he diverted some of his own power to shield them, even though he knew that he needed every available scrap of energy he had if they were going to succeed in their task. A forcefield of invisible light spread all around the four Heynai immediately, encasing them, protecting them from the unbelievable force contained within the storm they had created. The debris continued to hit the impenetrable wall with astonishing speed and regularity. But, safe within the shield, the spirits remained unharmed, and while it protected them they were able to continue their spell.
“Brruukk theus ipsillion hallthek,
apthsul zexan hinaii eckrall greu!!”
A ball of fire no larger than a tennis ball appeared in the centre of the circle. It was suspended in mid air, floating at chest level, and it did not move.
“Ulluxnell jeus achvallish neull,
ulluxnell jeus achvallish neull.”
Sereq spoke the ageless words as if the lives of every one of his people depended on them. The remaining spirits soon began chanting also, with the same levels of emotion and urgency echoing in their voices. The lines were repeated over and over again. They rose in volume and fervour until all of the spirits were bellowing them out as loud as they possibly could. However, with each chorus, with every chant pouring from their lips, they were being drained of priceless energy. The spirit’s newly formed bodies were wracked with more and more pain, until the agony they bore was excruciating, far greater than any mortal being could ever bear.
“Ulluxnell jeus achvallish neull,
ulluxnell jeus achvallish neull!!!”
Then, when they were at the absolute limit of their endurance, the little circle of fire began to grow and grow. Finally, when it had reached the size of a basketball, it suddenly exploded into four separate beams of fire. The flames burned brightly and they spread quickly outwards from the centre ball to enter each of the spirits’ bodies through their chests, plunging straight into their hearts like an assassin’s dagger. The four Heynai rose to their tiptoes in unison as the pain intensified to an astonishing, inhuman level. They each screamed out in anguish and opened their eyes in shock and bewilderment.
Sereq witnessed the disbelief and abject misery of the faces of his companions. For the first time in hundreds of years he was scared, terrified in fact. For one awful moment he became afraid that his friends and allies would not prove strong enough for what they had to do, that they would actually let him down, just whe
n it mattered most. “No! Hold on, my friends!” he yelled, through gritted teeth. His body was contorted in pain and covered in sweat, but still he fought valiantly to maintain the circle. “…Do not let it win! It means to beat us, to destroy us. It wants to escape, to be free of us. But, it has not met our like before! We are stronger than anything it has encountered, if we stay focussed and act as one. It does not want to die!”
He was speaking of the fire as if it were a real life person. The flames before him and in each of the spirits were once part of the original source of all Estian life, the origin of everything that lived and breathed in his world. The agony was now unbearable, relentless. It was absolute torture for those having to endure the sustained attack. But, the four spirits began to chant once more, straining every sinew they had and refusing to give in, somehow managing to withstand the unbelievable pain.
After a short while, the flames grew again and then changed in colour to become a very bright red. They burned more fiercely than ever before as they battled with all their might to overcome the spirits’ astonishing defiance. Finally, they reached their absolute zenith and Sereq realised that they had no more to give. Despite his agony, the ancient spirit smiled. He knew right there and then that it was over, that the Heynai had won.
