by M J Webb
“Hey!” gasped Jake. “Ben, leave it out, will ya? That’s no way to talk to a three hundred year old wizard you know, not after all he’s done.”
“Eh?” replied Ben, who was now seriously concerned for the health of his best friend. He had never seen anyone looking so ill, literally like death warmed up, as if he was about to meet his maker. “…Yeah well, that’s just me, innit? If he don’t like it, he can lump it, can’t he?”
Ben stopped talking. His face lost all colour and he looked up helplessly at his friends, as he realised with immense shock and horror that Jake had just stopped breathing!
Chapter 25
3rd September - The City of Te’oull - Siatol
Resus and his incredible army of dragons had somehow managed to overcome tremendous odds and win their incredibly long, ferocious fight with the creatures of evil in the skies above Te’oull. Through their sheer determination and superior flying ability, they had eventually succeeded in defeating a much larger and more deadly force. It was an astonishing triumph which really should not have been possible, an extraordinary testament to the bravery and loyalty of these remarkable creatures, for the cost of victory had been high. Many of the dragons had paid with their lives for reforming their alliance with the Estians. Almost all of those who had survived the battle now carried wounds of some description, and a considerable number had been forced to withdraw from the fight in order to find a safe place to land, realising that they were too badly injured to continue but anxious to preserve their race if they could. Those who remained in the skies above the battlefield fought on with tenacity and skill, chasing the revalkas and graxoth down mercilessly until only a few of the terrifying creatures remained. Now, at long last, as the equally hard-fought battle for the city below them reached its climax, Resus and his army set about the final task of eliminating the surviving beasts. The dragons were determined to remove the evil plague King Vantrax had resurrected and returned to Estia once and for all.
From the hill which overlooked the city, the evil wizard and the dark spirit who was his mentor, Notorold, witnessed with shock and alarm the aerial defeat. They were enraged, incensed, amazed… And, more than anything, they were consumed by an immediate need for vengeance.
“Baasdraexx! They will pay for this! We will destroy all evidence that they ever existed! Hold your nerve and steel your heart, Vantrax, the spirit army draws ever closer. Once it is with us, I will ensure that the dragons share the same fate as the Estian people who resist our rule. They will all be annihilated!” fumed Notorold.
The ground seemed to shake as he spoke and the sky turned a shade darker all of a sudden. He turned to look impatiently at the growing bank of black smoke which now almost covered the far horizon. Vantrax however, was still looking up disbelievingly at the dragons, who were hunting down and killing every one of his flying monsters. “Raargh! I do not understand? How could they defeat my beasts?!” he raged, his face redder than ever. “…They were raised from zsorcraum itself! How is that possible?” he enquired, turning to question the evil spirit before him.
Notorold did not give much for the wizard’s tone and it showed. He was furious, but he shook his head slightly as he replied. “Yagh… They were mortal creatures, reborn. They were not spirits like I. They were raised from the afterlife, summoned from the fires to do your bidding, without question or mercy. They did not have the flame of everlasting life burning within them. Remember always, that there is a great deal of difference between us. Mortals have weaknesses which can be exploited, we do not. They are infested with faults, those they carried with them in life, and cannot shake in death. They bleed, they hurt, they die… My great army has no such failings. It approaches as surely as the end of time. The life force within my spirit warriors was forged from the fires of evil, and there is no greater flame. No weapon, no Keeper, can withstand them.”
King Vantrax calmed a little. “Good! Excellent! Then, this is merely a setback and the plight of my creatures need be of no concern? And, if it comes down to it for that matter, neither is that of my army?” he added, turning to look once again at Te’oull and the raging battle within its walls. It was just a sea of black now. Thousands of the King’s warriors were packed into the city streets or climbing over the wall ramparts. Their numbers were matched only by those waiting impatiently outside the city walls to join the fight. To the two interested onlookers, it appeared that only a large area centred on the main square remained in enemy hands, still to be taken.
Notorold suddenly gave an evil laugh. “Ha ha ha… Your opponents are almost defeated in this battle, this war. Victory is only a matter of time, and it is almost through. In a few moments, I will take the greatest force this world or any other has ever seen and end this conflict. We will venture beyond those walls and crush any who stand in our way. We will descend upon them like the night, silent and deadly, kill them all before they know we are there. Fear not, Vantrax, this war is over. And when the deed is finally done, when you have everything your heart has desired since first we met, I will inform you of the price you have to pay.”
King Vantrax was shocked and stunned by the unexpected statement. He had no idea what the evil spirit meant by it and it concerned him greatly. ‘Price? We have never spoken of cost?’ He looked anxiously at Notorold, suddenly feeling more than a little troubled as he considered what might be asked of him. ‘I struck no bargain with you,’ he thought. ‘So, what is it you will want in return for your help?’
* * *
In the main square, everyone rushed as fast as they could to where Jake and Verastus lay. Everyone that is, except for Jean, who chose to remain with the soldier guarding Melissa, despite her concern for her grandson. The fighting had resumed by now and it was fierce. The terrible, frantic sounds of a desperate last stand could be heard from every side of the square. As Jean tightened the bandage on Melissa’s arm, the Sebantan warrior at last spoke to her long-lost mother.
“It is over you know? You are losing this fight, surely you can see that? You have no hope of victory. Soon, you will all be killed.”
“Yes,” was Jean’s short and candid reply. Her voice remained calm and unruffled, the tone of someone resigned to the fact that they were about to die, but strangely, not troubled by it in the slightest.
The Sebantan warrior was amazed by her reaction and to her surprise she found that she was moved to act. The words appeared from nowhere. “Then, let me save you?” she begged. “We have no history you and I, we are nothing to each other I know, but if I do not help, we will have no future either. Stay next to me, and I will protect you when they come.”
Jean smiled lovingly and she looked into Melissa’s eyes as only a mother could, becoming emotional all of a sudden but trying hard to suppress her feelings, pleased to see that their efforts to turn Melissa’s opinion of them had not been in vain. “Thank you, Lissa. It means the world to me to hear you say that.”
Melissa’s eyes widened upon hearing her words. “Lissa? That was your name for me. I remember!” replied the warrior, astounded by her sudden recollection.
“I’m glad. It is a start. In time, maybe more memories will return to you? If we are granted any that is. At least now, you know that I told the truth… It changes nothing however about our situation. I’m sorry, but my place is here, with my family, alongside my husband and son. I have only just found them. I’m not going to be separated from them again. Come what may, I will share their fate and be happy to do so. And I have finally found you, so today is a day I will treasure above all others, even if it is my last. And that is all thanks to you.”
Melissa shook her head vigorously. “No! I will not sit here and let that happen! Cut me free!” she pleaded strongly, offering her bound hands to her mother.
Jean shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t! You would…”
“Cut my binds, I beg you?! Free my hands and give me a sword?”
“Why?”
“I can still fight! My Sebantans will lis
ten to me, if I can but speak to them. They are not like the others who serve him; they are loyal to their Princess, not to King Vantrax and his money. They follow me and they will heed my command, for we share a bond closer than any other, a union forged on the battlefield, in many wars. Please, place a weapon in my hand and let me do what I can do? This is what I do best. Give me the chance to right some of the wrongs I have done? You are all doomed anyway, what have you to lose? Let me at least try to save you?!”
“I don’t… But, your wound?” Jean stated, hesitant and unsure, hardly able to believe what was happening and what was being said.
“It is deep, but I have another arm. You do not know us. We Sebantans are taught as children to use both, with equal skill. All I need is a sword?”
“I do not know! I can’t!”
Jean was now wrestling with her emotions, in complete turmoil. She looked at the soldier who was guarding Melissa, almost begging him for advice, for answers. The warrior was reluctant to speak at first. However, he could plainly see that Jean needed help to decide what to do. The dire circumstances negated his sense of duty he thought, and reluctantly he answered her silent plea.
“I… Forgive me, it is not my place to speak, but… I am a plain and simple warrior in the Estian army. I do not make such decisions and I am mightily glad of it. I follow orders. But, you have asked so I will be honest with you. Now that we are staring defeat in the eye and may be about to meet our makers, I am certain of only one thing; if I am to die this day, I would choose to do so alongside my friends. I would meet my end standing with them, not here, guarding this prisoner.”
“Then go!” rasped Jean, suddenly overwhelmed by a massive rush of relief. “…Leave me your sword and join the others. There will be plenty of weapons where you are going, from the dead and wounded. We must leave nothing behind in this fight. It makes no sense for you to remain here when I can guard her equally as well. We need every warrior we have at the front. I am the Keeper’s mother and I will assume the responsibility for this prisoner. Whatever happens to her, the decision is mine and mine alone. If we survive, you will carry no blame, I will see to that.”
The Estian warrior had heard all that was said between Melissa and her family, but he knew the odds were stacked heavily against survival and he needed no second invitation. He handed his sword over to Jean and left to join the fight. As soon as he had gone, Jean reached down and cut the belt that was binding Melissa’s hands. The Sebantan Princess rubbed her wrists. She stood up straight and proud to tower over the diminutive figure in front of her. Then, she took the sword and smiled. “Thank you. I know how hard that must have been. I hope we will be afforded a little time to get to know each other, you and I. Though, I doubt it somehow. I may not live through this. Know that I am betraying everything and everyone I know, for you. Goodbye mother.”
Jean threw caution to the wind and rushed forward to hug her daughter. Melissa was caught unprepared by the sudden move and the embrace that followed was so firm that she gasped in pain. She did not mind though, and she did not object to it.
After a few seconds, she pushed Jean gently away. “No time to lose. My Sebantans attacked Princess Zephany’s force. The majority of them should be at the eastern edge of the square. I will do what I can. I need to break through your lines… I only hope that your own warriors do not kill me before I have the chance to explain.”
* * *
Jake’s heart had stopped beating for a minute or so. His prostrate body was now lifeless and bizarrely, it was already going cold. A mood of shock, horror and disbelief had gripped everyone. But Tien, the old wizard, instinctively knew what he had to do. He set to work with real purpose as the others looked on, praying and hoping that he still had a trick or two up his sleeve yet. He asked Harry to open the box of stones and lay it beside his grandson’s head. Harry obliged without hesitation, and the four corner stones lit up almost immediately. A quiet humming sound began resonating from the four gems. Then, a beam of light from each of them travelled slowly towards the centre reolite stone, at exactly the same time. As the rays of light reached it, the reolite suddenly erupted into a sea of different colours. A small triangular prism appeared over the box. Harry and the others were amazed for nobody had ever seen anything like this before. The centre stone was reolite. Up until now, it had only ever emitted white light, but this was a bright assortment of different colours?
“Something is not right. It is not working as it should, is it?” said Harry. The fear and alarm in his voice was immediately apparent, and it disturbed the others. Everyone looked anxiously towards Tien for answers.
“Come on wizard, now’s your time. Do your stuff!” cried Ben.
Tien simply shook his head at the impudent young boy. “Your faith in my abilities is touching, Ben. However, it is not my ‘stuff’ that is needed,” he replied. “It is Jake’s.”
“What? But he is…!” began Graham, about to point out with a broken heart that his only son was dead, even though he was praying harder than he ever had that he was wrong, and that some miracle, some magical power, could save him.
“Ah, sod this!”
Ben Brooker suddenly reacted when no one else knew what to do. In a typical show of anger and frustration, he interrupted Jake’s father and before anyone could stop him, he had grabbed hold of Jake’s hand and thrust it into the prism of light. His actions took everyone by surprise, including Ben, who had absolutely no idea where the voice inside his head which told him to do it, had come from. Jake’s palm fell down upon the reolite stone.
“Boom!”
A gigantic, ground-shaking roar suddenly erupted in the sky above. Everyone ducked as bodies almost leapt from skin. Hearts were racing as they lifted their heads and saw, to their immense relief and amazement, that Jake’s eyes were now fully open. The colour began immediately returning to his cheeks, as his family and friends gazed on in awe. Graham and Harry looked at one another with tear-filled eyes, the exhilaration they shared at Jake’s reprieve was greater than any feeling they had ever known. He was once again breathing the sweet Estian air. Ben shared their emotions and he was also overcome with joy and excitement. He did not know what to do. He was beside himself and full of nervous energy, until his eyes met Tien’s.
“You know, Ben, on this remarkable journey we have all undertaken, for one so small in stature, I have to admit that you have surprised everyone with your courage and your actions. You have in fact been immense,” stated the wizard.
Ben’s face turned bright red as he checked Jake over. “Yeah, yeah,” he replied, “…don’t let me stop ya. Carry on, please? Flattery’ll get you everywhere… Ha ha. Now, let’s see about those wounds.”
He rolled his best friend carefully onto his side in order to check his back. To everyone’s amazement, the gaping wound inflicted by Sawdon’s sword had disappeared completely! The only sign it had ever existed was the remnants of Jake’s torn and blood-soaked shirt, and Jake himself had already almost fully recovered from his ordeal.
“Hey! Be careful. Go gentle, will ya? I’m not a rag doll you know.”
Ben stood up, smiling. He offered Jake his hand and helped him to his feet. “You’ll do,” he said, beaming with satisfaction. “Err… Actually, sometimes, you’ve got the personality of a rag doll mate… So, it’s an easy mistake to make. Welcome back from the dead, ya zombie.”
Jake smiled back at him. Then he stared with relief and gratitude at the sunlit sky. It took a few seconds only for everyone to recover from the shock of having lost Jake, and seeing him revived before their very eyes. Ben turned to Tien. “…Well? I’ve done my bit. It’s about time you did yours, init?” he stated, pointing down at the newly restored box of stones.
* * *
Lord Caro was now in the thick of the action. His superior skills, strength, experience and expertise had already been employed to devastating effect in this fight. The Perosyan champion of many years had killed or wounded so many enemy warriors that bodies and b
ody parts lay strewn all around him. He had downed such an incredible number in fact that some of the enemy beasts attacking the Estians now, all those but the fearless Thargws, were actually avoiding him!
This rather unexpected and peculiar development had created a tiny pocket of space in an otherwise congested, fiercely contested fight. Caro was as surprised and shocked as everyone else, but suddenly he noticed that the warriors immediately in front of him were parting. They all stepped aside one by one to give way and let someone through. Caro knew immediately who would soon be joining him. He stood his ground bravely and awaited the arrival of the mighty Thargw leader, with eager anticipation.
When he finally appeared through the crowd, Sawdon was carrying a heavy wound to his upper torso. It was blackened by the effects of fire and covered in dried and charred blood. It was a monstrous gash which would have killed most Thargws without a doubt. But then, Sawdon was no ordinary Thargw. He was no ordinary warrior. Out of necessity, he had retreated for only the briefest of moments, in order to treat his wound and stem the bleeding. Just behind the front lines, he had stopped and ordered two of his fellow Thargw warriors to build a fire. This they did using anything they could find which would burn, taken from the nearby dwellings. As soon as the fire was lit, Sawdon had pulled the axe from his chest. He ignored the excruciating pain and thrust a red hot sword onto the open wound. The bleeding had ceased immediately. Sawdon then took only a few minutes to rest, before rejoining the fight and soldiering on. Only now, he found that the way ahead was blocked by a warrior whose skill in battle was so great, that those ahead of him had faltered. Seasoned campaigners and mighty veterans had already fallen to his sword. Word spread quickly and Sawdon soon learned of the holdup. With growing excitement, he strode purposefully to the spearhead of the attack. Once there, he saw that Lord Caro was waiting for him.
