Legends of Marithia: Book 2 - Darkness Rising

by Peter Koevari

  He had a new purpose that he would devote his life to; a purpose that would carry on throughout the ages.

  When vampires were discovered in Marithia, the people, forsaken by Shindar, renounced their religion. The books and priests had no answers, no help for the Marithians in ways to protect themselves from the Forces of Darkness that now infected Marithia like a plague.

  Marithia fell into chaos and was quickly divided, drowning in various beliefs and gods. People fought amongst themselves in the name of their gods or greed.

  There was a change in the underworld. Motivated by his thirst for blood, Shindar commanded his monks to cast a spell that enveloped Marithia. Deaths, whether natural or violent, would result in being reanimated in the underworld under his control. Some Marithians even chose to pray to him in hope of protecting themselves against what may await them when they died and arrived in the underworld.

  Shindar’s army and power grew with his lust for vengeance and his thirst for blood could never be quenched. His heart beating with hate, he ruled the underworld with an iron fist, and worst of all… he provided evil souls with what they needed most, a common enemy.

  Shindar paced angrily around the outer wall of the resurrection room in his dark tower, mumbling to himself in an ancient language incomprehensible to the many ears surrounding him. He stopped in his tracks and turned his gaze on Kassina.

  “I sent her to Marithia, and I told her to wait until the time was right… and what does she do?!” he growled to himself before kicking a jar of blood which shattered against the nearby wall.

  Shindar was a tower of a presence, but more monster than man. Like a fiery demon enveloped inside human-like flesh. He never slept and spent most of his time training in combat and magic. His body was strong, but his real strength could be seen in his eyes, if anyone dared to look into them.

  Erratically, he would bark orders at skeleton warriors bringing in fresh additions to the underworld. Screaming in terror, the victims were dragged into the resurrection room, before mercilessly having their throats slit open. They were strung up by their twitching feet and the sound of them choking on their own fluids slowly subsided as their blood drained into the growing pool below Kassina’s body.

  Their fallen vampire queen lay naked on a bed of bones floating on the expanding blood pool, the heat from the wall’s torches made beads of sweat form on her skin.

  “Kassina, you fool! Why? It is a wonder in itself that I found your body in Greenhaven and brought you back here before any Marithians found you!” yelled Shindar, crunching his fists so tightly that it sounded as if he were crushing his own bones inside them.

  Kassina’s groans escaped her full lips as her mind struggled to find consciousness. Her body was quite a sight to behold. The moving light from flames appeared to lick their way around her flesh.

  Shindar’s monks focused on mixing the ever growing blood pool, would be foolish to lay lustful eyes on her in the presence of Shindar. Three monks stirred the blood to keep it fresh and joined ten more monks who chanted the powerful spell that was to return Kassina to the underworld. Three monks in each corner of the triangular room were rhythmically beating giant drums.

  In the shadows of flaming torches, dark souls circled violently above them. Their whispering pleas heard by everyone in the room.

  Free me… Give me life and I will grant you power…

  Shindar grimaced as he turned to Kassina and shook his fist at her as he continued in rage. “Do you know how valuable you are to me? How could you take such a foolish risk by casting a spell like that? The power of displacement is not to be used lightly and you must at all times make sure your body is safe and guarded. Did I not tell you that countless times? Countless times!”

  Staring at her face, he remembered Angeline. Kassina’s features closely resembled Angeline’s and kept painful memories fresh in his mind, driving his fury. Seeing his beloved Kassina weak and vulnerable pushed a portion of his anger aside.

  I will not let them take her from me again, he thought.

  Pausing in his tracks and pondering another angle of thought with his head cocked like a bird, his face morphed quickly from a look of intrigue to an evil smirk. “I suppose you did manage to invoke the prophecy and word will quickly spread of your apparent death in Marithia… that could prove useful.”

  Shindar thought back to when Kassina’s parents were brutally murdered. She was so young and innocent. He had saved her life, and she promised herself to him in return. So much has taken place since then, but she would always be the child that was brutally stolen from him.

  He got down on one knee in desperation, shaking his head beside the growing pool of blood. “I will restore your power, but I will make sure that you never make such a reckless mistake like that again! What good is ruling all of Marithia in darkness without my child to share the glory with me?”

  One of the chanting monks stared at the emotional Shindar on his knees and involuntarily laughed at the lord of darkness. Before the monk had a chance to realise his fatal mistake, Shindar launched at him like a pouncing tiger catching his prey. His movements blurred and jilted to the monk as Shindar lifted him from the ground by his neck like a weightless ragdoll.

  He frowned as he stared down the monk with a deadly gaze. “You dare laugh… at me?” his growl filled the room with such ferocity that Kassina’s eyes twitched before he pounded the monk into the marble ground with all of his might, smashing his head wide open like a split berry. Another monk hurried into the room to take his place.

  The flames flickered and the dark souls moaned as the spell neared its completion. Without warning, they were ripped from the safety of the shadows and tore into Kassina’s body.

  Kassina thrashed violently as if possessed by demons.

  Shindar hit the nearby monks across the back of the head in annoyance. “Protect her you fools!”

  The remaining monks moved quickly, leaping into the pool of blood, they made their way to restrain her wrists and ankles, grunting with the strength required to hold her down. Souls within her were fighting for their own existence and were in their last moments of battle against the spell, whose claws gripped them tightly. Kassina screamed from the burning pain within and her eyes shot open before her body went limp in exhaustion at the spell’s completion.

  The room fell silent as all waited to see if the vampire queen had returned. A whisper sliced through the silence with the power of a shout, “Shindar?”

  Kassina sat up with a look of confusion, speaking softly. “What is happening? Why am I here? And why am I unclothed?”

  Her confusion turned to fright when she saw the monks standing over her, saturated and dripping with blood. She frantically scanned herself for injuries. The monks quickly looked down to avoid gazing at her body.

  “Kassina! You are back in the safety of my tower, but you almost died! I brought you here before you completely faded. It has been quite some time and I have had to sacrifice countless souls to rebuild your strength,” he said, reaching for her with open arms.

  Kassina launched off her bed, clearing the bloody pool, to land on all fours like a panther. She slowly extended upright and casually disrobed a monk with a flick of her finger. Catching his heavy robe, she covered her milky white flesh and embraced him tightly.

  Her lips quivered and eyes sparkled as she spoke through a raspy voice, “Thank you for saving me again. I don’t know what I would do without you. How can I ever repay you?”

  Shindar felt his anger draining out of his body as he held Kassina in his arms once more.

  “I have missed your presence in the underworld and it has been so long since you returned to these lands. I cannot let you return to Marithia until our numbers have been replenished,” he replied.

  Their losses had been heavy at the battle of the Elven Woods, and although there were still enough skeleton warriors in Kassina’s tower, Shindar didn’t want to send her back until he felt that she would be adequately protected and und
erstood that such risks were not to be taken again.

  He held her hand, walking toward the corridor with her. As he went, he waved off the skeleton warriors who had been leading more captured souls to the blood pool and dismissed the monks. He didn’t need them now that his prized possession had finally returned to him.

  The monks nodded and formed a line behind him, reciting spells of protection for their queen as they followed closely behind.

  “Kassina. You fought bravely, but our enemies are far more powerful than we anticipated. We have a difficult journey ahead of us, and cannot run blindly into battle underestimating them,” he said.

  “I understand,” began Kassina before groaning and leaning over in pain. She spat up some dark blood on the floor before wiping her mouth with her robe.

  He picked her up easily, and continued walking with her held closely to his chest.

  Approaching her door, Shindar bent down to lay a kiss on her forehead and his voice softened. “My Kassina, you are in dire need of rest. The spell of resurrection is not commonly used on someone whose body survives but that no longer matters. It worked like our monks told me it would. I distinctly remember holding you like this, so many years ago. You were just a child then, but I will never forget that day.”

  Shindar turned sharply to look at his followers and growled, “Why is the door not open?!”

  One of the monks bowed and ran ahead to open her door before they all continued a slow march back to their quarters.

  He lay her down gently onto the soft covers of her bed. “Your chambers are exactly as you left them and I have longed for the day of your return. Relax now and I will have a servant bring your favourite tea infused with the blood of virgins.”

  Kassina looked around the room and remembered with affection the countless hours she spent inside its cold, sleek walls. She closed her tired eyes, their lids heavy and difficult to keep open. Shindar’s voice filled her mind, humming a lullaby from her childhood.

  Rubbing her eyes, she yawned with exhaustion and mumbled, “Perhaps I’ll have the tea later.” She was home again, and her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was of revenge.

  Wherever you are Vartan… we will meet again and next time, you will not be so lucky.

  Chapter 3 : A Knight To Remember

  “What do you do when all you know is lost and what gives you comfort disappears? How do you find solace when you have nowhere left to turn?

  How do we deal with the losses of so many of our loved ones?

  These are questions I dare not ask myself as I strive to keep my people free from the deadly pull of depression.

  We will band together, and with hope for the future, Veldrenn will be rebuilt by human and elven hands. Together we will create a glorious city that we can all be proud of.

  This is a time to reflect, to remember who we are, where we come from and where we are headed.”

  (Queen Andrielle of Veldrenn)

  Leon smacked the family table with his palm in annoyance. “No, absolutely not. There is no way I am losing the only son I have left to a path of revenge. Can’t you see what losing Finn has done to your mother? Surely you don’t want to put her through that again, do you?”

  His father’s eyes watered before he turned away from his son in an effort to control his emotions. Vartan’s mother, Victoria, was equally determined to stop her son leaving. She breathed deeply before turning to leave the room, unwilling to talk about it any further.

  Vartan watched sadly as his mother left, then put his hand softly on his father’s shoulder and spoke with determination, “Father, I love you and mother dearly… but this is something I must do. It is because of Finn’s death that I choose to walk this path. I will find the Knights of Greenhaven, and persuade them to let me join their honourable fight. It is my duty, and it is all that I want now.”

  Leon wiped the sweat from his brow, sighed and shook his head in disappointment. He felt the passion and determination shine in Vartan’s voice and knew that there was no point in fighting it any further.

  “Son, I will support your decision if this is truly what you want, but I believe you’re running a fool’s errand. I want you to promise us that if you fail or at any time decide to change your mind… you come back to us. By the gods Vartan, you may have a way with a bow and sword but you have had no formal training to speak of. Do you really think you will be granted Knighthood? They are men of nobility, with years of training and we are not of noble blood,” he pleaded, in a final attempt at swaying Vartan’s resolve.

  “There is an annual tournament held in Greenhaven. I will find my way to it and we will see if I have the skills necessary. That is the only plan I have for now,” said Vartan.

  “Then so be it, but you’re not leaving without this.”

  Leon walked to the corner of the room and took his sheathed sword out from a locked cabinet, blowing off the dust and taking a moment to admire the magnificent weapon. The shine from its blade cast reflections of the sun into the room from the nearby window.

  On its hilt were two parallel naked figures of striking beauty which appeared to be seated on the wielder’s hands. Their eyes were embedded diamonds that glittered hypnotically in the light. In all of Vartan’s years, his father had never opened that cabinet in his presence. It was always strictly forbidden to touch. Vartan’s jaw gaped wide at the sight of the sword.

  “This sword was forged by elven hands and has been made from a material unseen in Marithia. I traded for it in She’Ma’Ryn many years ago and it has brought me luck ever since. If you are going to be in any danger, I want you to have it.”

  He held out the sword with both hands gripping the hilt, “Here, take it before I change my mind.”

  Vartan hesitated, shaking his head. “I cannot take this sword from you father, I know it means far too much to you.”

  “Vartan, do you really think this sword means more to me than your life? Take it, before you tempt me to beat you over the head with it,” he said with a grin, handing it to Vartan who was momentarily lost in its beauty and perfection.

  “Now go and carve out your destiny. Send word to us on your journey and come home often if you are able. We love you, always.”

  A teenage Vartan rode hard in the direction of Greenhaven, the thunder of his horse’s hoofs pounding into the ground was almost calming. The wind whipped his hair wildly around his face. He desperately tried to shut out the painful memories of recent events. The thought of his brother’s body so viciously destroyed by the shadow demon still chilled him to the bone.

  “I will make them suffer for what they have done! And will stop at nothing to rid this world of the shadows that plague us,” he mumbled to himself, kicking his boot into his horse. The sound of increasing wind rushed past his ears and overwhelmed his senses, as if an unknown force of nature was trying to slow him down.

  Turning his head to the woods rushing by, his voice growled, “Do you hear me? I will bring death to you all!”

  His thoughts travelled back to the conversation he had with his father before he embarked on his quest of vengeance, tears escaped and ran down his face.

  Stay strong! They will be fine without you there to protect them. You have to do this, he told himself.

  The sun shone bright and glittered when it touched the diamond eyes of Vartan’s sword. Like a messenger from the gods, Vartan was intent on his purpose. His father’s sword bounced harshly on his back, reminding him of the pain driving him forward.

  Powering on, Vartan felt an eerie emotion of a presence above him, as if the gods were closely watching his progress. Vartan yanked the reins hard and his horse struggled to come to a full stop at the last crossroad before Greenhaven. It complained loudly at his request.

  Turning to the sky above, he struggled to see through the cloud of dust he had created. With panting breath, he searched for an answer. The cloud of dust suddenly dispersed as if something had blown it away from above him.

  Looking ahead, the wo
oden signpost was now clear. To his left was the path to Greenhaven, and to his right was the path to the Jade Inn.

  “You won’t stop me!” he yelled, before turning his horse and kicking into a gallop toward Greenhaven.

  The city coming into view was unmistakable for anywhere else. The gold lined bricks glowed in the sunlight like a beacon of hope.

  As he neared Greenhaven, he saw coloured flags topping its walls, signalling the festivities waiting within. Loud cheers erupted from the crowds within its walls. Royal guards holding silver spears signalled for Vartan to halt at the entrance.

  It’s now or never, he thought.

  “Who goes there?” called out a guard.

  Vartan straightened his back and lowered his voice, speaking proudly, “I am Vartan, son of Leon and Victoria and I seek entry for the annual knighthood tournament.”

  The guards looked at each other before laughing loudly and returned their gaze to the young teenager mounted on horseback before them.

  “Surely you are not serious, are you boy? So does every other child in these lands. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Never mind that, even if we wanted to let you in, do you even carry paperwork of your nobility?” they asked.

  “Of course, I have my paperwork with me,” he began.

  Vartan feigned reaching into his pack and waited for his moment to kick his horse hard. Another cheer erupted from the city, and the guards turned to peek at the cause of the commotion.

  Vartan kicked his horse’s side. It quickly responded, neighing loudly and galloped toward the guards at frightening speed.

  Before the guards had a chance to react and lift their spears high enough, Vartan leapt over them and continued through the open gate.

  The guards gave chase and repeatedly yelled, “Stop, intruder!”

  Ahead of Vartan was a large, excited crowd watching Dryden, knight of Greenhaven, dispatch yet another challenger from the arena. The knight kicked his opponent square in the chest, sending him flying out of the ring and into the dirt, blood splattering on the ground around the fallen man.