Legends of Marithia
Book 2
Darkness Rising
-by-
Peter Koevari
Peter Koevari
ISBN: 978-1-4658-9581-3
Published by Peter Koevari at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Peter Koevari
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Special thanks to my wife, my beta readers David, Michelle, Ellie, and friends for their support
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Cover art by Claudia Bartoli-McKinney – www.phatpuppyart.com
Map of Marithia drawn by Holly J. Fox
Chapter 1 : The Wheels Are Turning
“What do we do when we find ourselves facing our destiny?
I have been waiting, no… longing for the day when the boy of prophecy would finally seek me out; wake me from my slumber and together, we would save Marithia from the vice-like grip of oppression.
We met in the darkness of the spiritual plane at a time when we were not meant to be together.
What a troublesome situation we are in, and if I fail to rectify it… then we are all doomed.”
(Talonsphere – Weapon of the ancients)
Leon paced impatiently near the body of his fallen son. His emotions were torn between speaking his thoughts aloud and reeling his feelings in to allow Trisa to continue her work uninterrupted. The moist floor of the dragon island caverns made a sticky sound as he walked; along with a rhythmic beat resulting from the cavern’s droplets falling into the puddles below. Leon limped from injuries he sustained at the battle of the Elven Woods and was gripped with grief and frustration from the waiting.
He stubbornly delayed his own healing process with his inability to rest.
Stopping in his tracks, he turned to Trisa to ask a question. “I cannot bear to see him like this, how long is this going to take?”
The sight of the pacing father was all too familiar for Trisa as it accompanied her daily routine. It was his coping ritual. She sighed quietly, her foggy breath warming the freezing air, and reminded herself to be patient with him. He had just lost his wife, and the fear of losing his son was completely understandable.
Vartan, the boy of the fabled Talonsphere prophecy had been moments away from dying at the battle of the Elven Woods. He lay alive, but could not be woken regardless of all efforts made. His skin had grown as pale as the moon from a lack of the sun’s warmth, and his body was thinning from a lack of movement. Scars from his battle wounds were easy to spot as Trisa bathed him.
What was once a cavern of celebration and dragon worship in ancient times… was now overcome with a sadness that affected them all.
Trisa stretched out her arms behind her, tightening her shoulder blades before releasing them as she focused on relaxing and softening her voice. “I promise you that as soon as I have answers I will give them to you. He can still drink my potions, but it is not his body that is preventing him from returning to us. Something has a hold of his mind and I do not know how to wake him. I do understand your pain Leon. I’m sure he will appreciate all you are doing for him when he wakes.”
Leon stared at her with desperate eyes. He remembered all the trips he had made to the Weeping Falls, to retrieve the crystal clear water needed to mix with the ground lotus pearls and the countless hours he spent searching for the ingredients Trisa needed.
He nodded knowingly and took in some deep breaths in an effort to calm his nerves. Grabbing his backpack, he began to slowly walk away in resignation. “Yes, I suppose you are right but I feel like I should be doing more to help. I guess I should remember how much we have achieved thus far. I had better get you some more lotus pearls. I promise that I will return by nightfall.”
With his back turned to her, his eyes flooded to relieve some of the pain inside his heart.
Trisa had proven her trust by delivering the final blow to Kassina, the vampire queen, in the battle of the Elven Woods. She had become privy to secrets of the dragons which were revealed to her once she had reached the island of Trahoterra.
She stared at Leon as he departed the caverns and wondered silently what he would have been like in his mighty dragon form. A flamed torch nearby flickered wildly and acted as a timely reminder for her to return to her duties.
Leon had been granted his wish to experience human life by Karven, the king of dragons, along with his late wife Victoria. This was a wish that could only be granted once and was their most powerful spell, its invocation guarded fiercely by their kind. Requesting the use of it was not a decision he and his wife had taken lightly, especially given the complex process of transformation. To become human, they had to be born human and would endure an entire childhood before meeting again.
Born into different Marithian families, they spent most of their human lives searching for each other. Unlike humans, their memories and knowledge remained intact when reborn. There was another substantial cost to be paid for their transformation; despite the rich dragon blood running through their veins, they no longer had powers inherent to their kind. They did have the one form of magic that every human is granted – the ability to create life, and their children would not be bound by the cost of their spell. They would, in time, develop the powers Leon and Victoria had willingly sacrificed.
Once they were married, they were blessed with two sons, Vartan and Finn who were raised as if they were merely human, in an effort to protect them. Either of them could have become the boy of the Talonsphere prophecy. Tragically, Finn would not survive to fulfil the prophecy. His fate would send him to die horrifically in an attack by a shadow demon.
Vartan, the older of the two, never forgave himself, feeling he had failed in his duties to protect his younger brother.
Thinking Finn had died, Vartan grieved the loss of his brother. His life focused on living out his brother’s dreams and taking revenge on the Forces of Darkness that took Finn from him.
Relief came when Vartan met the Queen of the Dragons, Nymira. The truth of his parents’ heritage was revealed to him and he discovered that his brother had been reborn in his true form. The brothers were later reunited at Trahoterra, the island of dragons.
Vartan was the prophesised saviour of Marithia, destined to join with the legendary weapon Talonsphere and save them from the Forces of Darkness. Unfortunately, after the battle of the Elven Woods, he lies close to death, but protected at Trahoterra. The island was remote, sitting deep within a protective mist, and had been untouched by human hands for countless years. As such, it was rich with herbs and plants that were extinct elsewhere. The ancients had explored select parts of the island when they worked with the dragons many eons ago. They were the only humans prior to Vartan, Leon and Trisa to be fortunate enough to visit Trahoterra.
It was not that humans or elves did not want to see the island. It was simply impenetrable. Not that the disappearances over the years deterred many from trying. The razor-sharp rocks protecting its outskirts would sink any boats that ventured near. There is no beach for any sea vessel to land. The only way in was by air and this suited the dragons perfectly. From a dragons-eye view, the island closely resembled talons reaching far into the sky, as if a bird the size of Marithia was trying to grasp the clouds from beneath the sea.
Trisa’s healing potions required only a few ingredients and the most potent of these were only found on Trahoterra.
To the humans, the Weeping Falls had only existed in fables. But to the dragons, they were real and a most sacred place. It is said that the falls contain the tears of dragons from days of old. They gathered at the falls to mourn their lost kin and their tears gave the falls unimaginable powers of healing.
Finn had taken Trisa and Leon to the falls once he learned what was required to mend his human-born brother. The dragon’s blood pumping through Vartan’s veins gave him powers of magic, as well as strength far greater than any human or elf, but it wasn’t enough to mend the damage.
He would need the combined help of Trisa’s potions and the Weeping Falls.
Vartan was between the world of the living and the underworld. He had lost control of his mind to Kassina’s spell and his memories were foggy and confused. He struggled to understand the choice between saving his human soul and being reborn in his true form inside the ancient weapon that may save them all.
Talonsphere, knowing that the prophecy was not unfolding as foretold, that it was the wrong time for Vartan to enter the weapon, worked hard to lead him back to Marithia and painstakingly attempted to revive Vartan’s memory.
The ancients built the weapon, Talonsphere, with the help of dragons. It was believed to be hidden in Greenhaven, the golden city which had been captured by Kassina, vampire queen of the underworld. She used the Forces of Darkness at her disposal to search and dig for the weapon. Little did she know that she was given a false map to its location and her efforts were in vain. She had failed to find the weapon but had succeeded in nearly destroying the city in the process.
Trisa approached the fallen dragon queen’s body and began her ritual of adding herbs to the water that surrounded her. She could not ingest any potions and therefore, Trisa resorted to alternative methods in her efforts to preserve Nymira’s body. Dragons were adept at healing their own when they were wounded, but had no knowledge of how to heal one who was deceased. They welcomed Trisa’s suggestion of preserving Nymira until a solution could be found.
She could not leave Vartan or Nymira’s side, so Leon retrieved water from the Weeping Falls for her. The waters of the falls were powerful, but nobody knew how long they would protect the dragon queen before she began to decay.
Trisa ran her right hand down Nymira’s side, in an attempt to transfer some warmth while greatly enjoying the texture of the smooth dragon scales sliding over her skin.
Her eyes twinkled and her voice broke as she said, “Hold on great queen, help is coming.”
She didn’t hold much hope for the dead queen being resurrected, but she thought that if she kept speaking the words aloud… that they would ring true.
Although Trisa was not aware of it, Nymira’s spirit remained, tethered to her fallen body ever since she plummeted into the ground at the battle of the Elven Woods.
The dangerously powerful spell she had cast in an effort to destroy the vampire army had nearly taken her life. She appeared lifeless to others. Although she wasn’t inside her body, Nymira was conscious and able to see everything that took place around her. She could only observe and listen; tormented that she could not tell anyone that she was still there.
Try as hard as she might, she wasn’t able to return to her fallen body. It was as if an impenetrable gate was half closed and she could not fit through the opening. So there she waited, anchored by the chains that linked her body and soul… a soul which was now overwhelmed with sadness.
Nymira could not shake the dark emotions within her. She wanted to return to herself so badly, but felt trapped, like a prisoner, barred from returning to her own body.
Suddenly, Trisa too was overwhelmed with an unexplained sadness and shed tears uncontrollably. She wept so heavily that she was almost blinded.
With great difficulty, she removed her hand from Nymira’s body and the emotions slowly drained out of her body. Shaken by the impact of the emotional barrage she had just experienced, her mind swarmed with the realisation that she must have felt Nymira’s distress.
Her moist face brightened with a smile as she now knew that resurrection was a real possibility and she wiped the tears from her face. “I know you are in pain, but we are doing everything we can for you.”
Deep down, the dragon queen knew that everyone was doing what they could. She just hoped that it would be enough and that help would arrive in time.
Chapter 2 : Deadly Ties
“Deception is the grandest of all magic tricks, and by utilising it I have managed to weaken our adversaries’ resolve. They honestly believe me to have perished and that I could die by the blade of a pathetic human healer.
This is not a world crafted by their dreams and I am no fairy tale.
We will make them realise that true power cannot be defeated. One by one, I will crush them like the insignificant ants they are, under the heel of my boot.”
(Queen Kassina of the Underworld)
Shindar, the Demon of Darkness and lord of the underworld was rarely sighted without the blackness of death following close behind. The underworld was a chaotic plane identical in its design to the world of Marithia and was roamed by countless souls who had been banished there. Dark tales of the underworld spoke in detail of his creation, but those stories varied from blood scripture.
In the times of ancients’ rule, Shindar had been granted the gift of life by the gods of the higher plane, the same gods Marithians would come to worship. Most Marithians were unaware that the scripture once taught by their long abandoned churches was built upon words spoken by the lord of the underworld who they now feared the most, Shindar.
There was a time when he wasn’t feared by any Marithian and he was, in fact, lovingly worshipped. His life was spent spreading words of peace, living modestly and purely and he provided the world with a unified belief. He taught ways to live fruitful, productive lives worthy of entry into a higher plane. A place that would allow them a life they could only dream of. He performed miracles utilising the magic granted to him by the gods, proving to Marithians that he was from a plane more pure than their own and worthy of their worship. His priests recorded his teachings and distributed the books across Marithia bearing his name. ‘Purity: The Book Of The Gods’ became a household name and was studied by all.
As could be predicted, his popularity swiftly grew like wildfire and many women yearned for his affections. He fell in love with the one woman who was famed for her beauty across the lands, the one woman that most men wanted for their own. Shindar took her as his wife and after some time, they decided to start a family. Marithians kindly built them a picturesque cottage; a gift for the enrichment his teachings had brought to their lives. However, all beautiful things can be destroyed by one singular act of evil.
One fateful night, Shindar returned from his usual task of fetching firewood. He walked joyfully, calling out eagerly for his wife. “Angeline, I’m home.”
When there was no answer, he felt that something was wrong. Angeline always eagerly awaited his homecoming and often was waiting on their porch after hearing his call. As he neared the cottage, he noticed that a window had been broken. As if day had reverted to night, he immediately dropped the firewood and searched the house frantically. What he saw would change him at the very depths of his soul, forever. His wife lay brutally raped and murdered on their marriage bed. Her mouth had been gagged and bloody tears had streamed from her staring, lifeless eyes. It was obvious from the horrific wounds on her arms and hands that she had fought for her and their child’s lives until the bitter end.
His jaw clenched so tight that he felt his teeth crack under the pressure. Running to his wife’s side, he placed his hand on her belly… hoping for signs of life inside her. His child was dead, taken from the world before it had a chance to be brought into it.
Bracing for the pain, he closed his watery eyes and mumbled a spell. With a flash of li
ght under his eyelids, he relived Angeline’s last moments. He could see the faces of the attackers and immediately recognised them… he remembered them from his church, his place of supposed peace.
His eyes narrowed as the realisation sank in and he growled, “No!”, breaking the spell as the vision was too painful to bear.
Shindar cried uncontrollably in agony, his body violently shaking with the pain and power of hatred now surging inside him.
He heard loud, quick footsteps hastily departing through his front door.
Unable to control his rage, he tore a wooden leg from their bedside table with his bare hands and gave chase to the two men, growling as anger ate away his soul. It did not take long for him to gain ground on the men and he took vicious vengeance into his own hands. His ferocious blows tore flesh from their bones, and he did not stop until they were turned into a bloody heap before him and his heart had turned as black as a moonless night.
Vengeance could not bring back what he had lost and his pain only worsened.
Shindar turned on the gods that had granted him his life, breaking into Marithian churches to wreak destruction on their statues. He screamed blasphemously into the clouds above, blaming the gods for the death of his innocent wife and unborn child.
“You should have protected them! After all I have done, you let them take my family from me! All of you just watched it happen, damn you all!” he yelled.
The gods heard him and condemned him for his treachery. They banished him from Marithia and he would never again join them in the higher plane. He was struck down by bolts of lightning and awoke reanimated in the underworld, where he vowed to take Marithia back from the hands of the gods and make them answer for what they had done to him.
Legends of Marithia: Book 2 - Darkness Rising Page 1
