She nodded, releasing her spell as she approached the weapons rack. The dummy crumbled to the floor. She picked up a gleaming weapon from the rack and approached them. “These are blunted, right?”
Vartan nodded before drawing a blade of his own. Pulling out a second sword from the rack, he grabbed it by the blade and passed it to Yuski. “Standard training rules.”
Anakari stared blankly in their direction. He realised that they had no idea about training.
“No blows to the head, face, or sensitive areas.”
Yuski remained still and watched him closely. Anakari nodded and held her sword to her side, the weight forcing her to clench her left hand. Vartan approached and lifted her weapon, placing both her hands around its hilt. “Hold it like this, and use simple movements. Don’t try anything too fancy.”
Vartan thought back to his own initial training. It was long ago. Deep under the surface of Trahoterra, he had trained in the dragon’s caverns. Karven had cast a spell to slow down their time in the real world; it was much like the time he discovered the district of pleasure in the interstellar trade city, She’Ma’Ryn. He recalled the agonising frustration and tiring exercises as the great dragon trained him in the art of magic. Much like how he had learned to activate the power of the dragon blood flowing through his veins, Anakari had to tap into her inherent powers.
After all, if she was indeed sent by the gods to help us, she should have powers which extend far beyond her known magical abilities, he thought.
She probably does. Can I wake up now? Keturah said. I’d shut down earlier at your request, but it seems you don’t need privacy anymore.
How did you know that, if you really shut down all your senses? Were you listening in earlier? Vartan thought.
He felt a wave of embarrassment as his truth talisman’s emotions flowed into his own.
“Vartan, my prince, are we going to practice? Where is your head today?” Yuski said, tapping her head with her sword.
The prince remembered the words of the dragon king, in his initial training. He had been trained over many years as a knight of Greenhaven, but learning to use magic was something he had never prepared for.
Clear your mind and allow yourself to give in to the powers within you.
Repeat all of these spells after me.
Again, and never forget them. You will not be carrying a tome in battle!
Allow your body enough time to recover between spells.
Again, again, again!
You must remember the words until the spells become a part of you.
What or who do you fear? You must let go of your fear.
Vartan smirked at Anakari, tapping his own skull with his blade. “When we begin, I want you to clear your mind. Try to think of absolutely nothing. In this case, just focus on your sword.”
She nodded and followed Yuski, circling around Vartan.
Shanka squawked as she flew to the sill of a broken window. Vartan was reminded of the death of Makya, and how they had to train harder to defeat their enemies.
“Begin,” Vartan said. He spread his legs wide and brought his sword to a vertical position on his chest. He closed his eyes and shifted his focus to his remaining senses. This sense of calm allowed him to focus on nothing but his enemies’ movements and helped him predict what they would do next.
The instant they moved, his eyes flickered open.
Yuski swung her sword and then steadied it horizontally with both hands, staring down her target. Anakari watched both of them, her face paling by the second. A gust of leaves blew through the partly opened windows, floating in the air between them, then descended gracefully to the wooden planks beneath their feet. Vartan listened to the gentle patter of the leaves sliding along the grooves in the wood.
Yuski gritted her teeth and charged at his left flank, swinging her sword toward his back. The floorboards shook violently from her attack.
He twisted to the left and brought his blade up to meet hers, the force of the blow threw her off balance. She stumbled backward and blew her dishevelled hair off her face. Vartan nodded as he stared at Anakari. She came at his front, lunging at his chest. He blocked her blows with ease. She dropped the tip of the sword to the ground and wiped her moist brow.
“Come on! You can both do better than this. Is it me you fear? Or yourselves?”
The girls shared a glance and their eyes hardened. They engaged him from opposite directions. Vartan twisted around at incredible speeds, blocking them both.
Yuski growled as she swung her sword again, then threw a side kick to his ribs. He stumbled back from the blow.
Vartan grinned as he said, “Now you are fighting!”
Anakari swung from her right and then left, alternating her blows. Yuski slashed wildly at him from the other side. He rolled out of their way and drew a second sword from the weapons rack. Another gust of wind sent leaves flying over his shoulder. Shanka took flight from the window and alighted on the rack of swords.
Vartan spread his arms and swords out wide, he leapt into the air and somersaulted forwards, meeting their blades in his descent. He held them both back, focusing his attacks on the elf, ensuring to hit her arms repeatedly with the surface of the blade, not the edge.
“Sorceress, is this really as good as you can get?”
Anakari winced and stepped back. She growled as her eyes glowed bright white and symbols pulsed on her skin.
“No spells allowed in weapons training!” Vartan said, darting backwards and assuming a defensive stance.
“This is no spell. You want a fight? Then fight with a god!” Anakari said.
Anakari’s voice was different to her own.
His cheeks flushed and the realisation hit him like a punch to the face.
I have awakened her.
Vartan prepared himself for the worst. He had a feeling that this was not going to be easy.
Flicking her wrist, Anakari threw her sword in the air. She performed a spinning kick and landed hard on wooden planks. Dust blew upward from between the cracks and she caught the blade by its hilt.
“Anakari?” Yuski said, staring intently at her companion.
Ignoring her question, the sorceress flew through the air and engaged Vartan’s blades. She moved with such grace, it was as if the air offered her no resistance. Vartan struggled to defend himself. One of her blows caught his cheek and drew blood, a bright trail running down his chin. This was no longer a training exercise, or at least whatever was inside Anakari thought it wasn’t. His heart raced as he realised that he was facing a serious adversary.
“Anakari, stop!” Vartan said. He tasted blood in the corner of his mouth and steeled himself.
Vartan leapt backwards, focusing on the soul of Mazu within him. He opened his eyes, now glowing a dazzling blue, and saw the room through Mazu’s power. The water in Anakari and Yuski’s bodies flowed rapidly and he pushed his fist through the air and knocked Anakari backward to drift along the floor.
“I don’t want to hurt you. Please stop,” Vartan said.
Anakari’s voice curved with a lace of curiosity. “Mazu? Brother, what are you doing here?”
She leapt upward, gliding through the air. The speed of her movements were too quick for Vartan to focus on. She twisted in the air, a whirlwind building around her. Vartan and Yuski were blown off their feet and became projectiles. Shanka became involuntarily airborne.
The magical power being unleashed in the room overwhelmed Vartan’s senses, and his vision blurred. For the first time since he was nearly killed by Kassina’s hands, he felt the icy grip of fear around his heart. He knew he had to do something, and his mind scrambled for a solution.
Vartan spread out his arms and screamed as he clenched his fists. Every barrel in the room exploded violently. The water that had been inside them burst forth, soaking them and the entire room. Vartan narrowed his eyes and focused. The droplets froze in the air and they were held in their positions. The wind continued to build around the t
raining room, sending cold chills up his spine.
He crossed his arms and burst outward. They were all thrown against the walls as if a fireball had exploded in the centre of the room. The icy water flooded the floor, and although his teeth were chattering, the cold was welcomed by his bruised body.
He looked over to see Anakari’s eyes normalise, and the glyphs on her skin darkened. Rubbing her head and nursing her left elbow, she stood wearily and spoke with chattering teeth. “What just happened here?”
It was in that moment that Vartan realised that he not only had an immense respect for her power, but he was truly afraid of her losing control.
Chapter 4 : Dark Reign
“Twinkle twinkle, little star.
How I wonder who you truly are.
I’ve seen glimpses of your light.
Watched the spirits that you fight.
I await a destined fate.
Who will find me, before it’s too late?”
(Talonsphere)
It was a shocking descent into the darkness below Eagle’s Drop. Tusdar knew that the vampire army had been eradicated in the recent battle of Greenhaven, and that their city was all but deserted. Almost every vampire in their realm had been called to the battle and met their end.
It would have been a surprise for the Zhendurian guards to hear Tusdar and Mestal’s frantic screams after they leapt from Eagle’s Drop. They must have closed the gate and raised the bridge when the storm broke.
The muffled rattle of the freed chains was heard over the howl of storm winds. The drawbridge had barely opened up in time to release the bats that would catch vampires and bring them into Zhendur. This was no ordinary day; they had already fallen too far. Bats struggled to catch their bodies as they plummeted toward the entrance. Elite guards were permanently stationed at the entrance. They were heavily armoured and brandished oversized crossbows with enchanted arrows that emitted an apple-green smoke.
Funny how even as an immortal, I had just feared death, Tusdar thought.
The guards stared with pale faces at Mestal and Tusdar being lifted to the entrance and dumped before them unscathed. The vampires dusted themselves off and looked past the guards to see what was almost a ghost town. Mestal was the only pure vampire, and descendant of royal blood, who remained alive.
That should put her at the top of the food chain.
Mestal spoke firmly. “Our Lord Aryun is dead.”
As she stood to her feet, the guards bowed down before her.
Tusdar marched through the gate, seeing the empty guard posts. His body groaned after his ordeal, but his mind was at peace. He found it disturbing to walk into such a large underground city and hear no movement.
Mestal turned to him and whispered, “They’re hidden, defending the city.”
She drew a deep breath. “Zhendurians, we have returned to you. You may come out now.”
Silence.
Just as Tusdar was about to say something, feet shuffled throughout the city. Vampires opened windows and leapt to the ground, came out of barrels, and slid out from behind walls. Their numbers were far smaller than he had expected, but as they sheathed their swords and lifted their black helmets off their heads, Tusdar found that he was happy to see them. It was like a father returning to his family.
They nodded to him and grouped before them, silently joining the guards to bow at Mestal’s feet.
She raised a hand. “Please, there is no need for formalities, but I am touched. I will formulate a plan for all Zendurians. We suffered a horrid defeat, and our people were murdered at the hands of mortals.”
The scowls from the crowd were answer enough. Tusdar wondered why they were not speaking or asking any questions. He guessed that there was far more to vampire politics than met the eye. They were quiet, but their thoughts would be another matter. Tusdar wondered if they were close to a revolt. After all, the deaths were a result of Shindar’s orders.
Tusdar read disappointment, anger, and hopelessness in their expressions.
“I am all that remains of the old blood. I swear by the bosom of Hecate, our one true mother, that I will save us from extinction,” Mestal said.
The vampires nodded with the first genuine smiles that night, and made way as Mestal gripped Tusdar’s hand and led him toward her home.
Tusdar ran his fingers through Mestal’s smooth hair as she rested her head in his lap. The silk bedspread wrapped around their skin provided little comfort. Tusdar sipped his steaming cup of blood to break their long silence. She had been deep in thought, following her speech. Tusdar wondered if she had finally relaxed enough to properly grieve. Tears didn’t fall, but the silence was deafening.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” he said.
Mestal scrunched her brow as she spoke. “This isn’t how I imagined inheriting the responsibilities of Zhendur. You said in Greenhaven that our leaving would be for a better purpose. We’ve come back to nothing. In the battlefield, we could’ve made a difference. At least we would have died for something, instead of being here for nothing.”
Tusdar exhaled, wondering if her earlier speech was from her heart, or to keep her people from abandoning Zhendur and Shindar’s rule. He imagined that wouldn’t go well.
“Die for a lost battle? I understand how you feel, but I never make promises that I can’t keep.”
Mestal sat up and faced him, her eyes searching deep into his. “This is your time then. What’s your plan? What will we do now?”
“Give me a moment to think things over.”
Mestal grimaced and poured herself a glass of blood. “Did you see their faces? They knew that we’d be defeated and see us as deserting cowards.”
Of course I knew that, he thought.
“Who cares what they think?”
Mestal smashed her glass into the ground so hard that glass shards flew upward, piercing his skin. He watched as his skin stitched itself back together.
Mestal grimaced. “I do! I care! My father would have been stronger than this. You are my chosen, and it’s time to prove yourself. We need to win back the hearts of our people.”
The barbs of her words tore through him, as did the fury in her eyes. Her chest heaved with each furious breath. Did she mean that he had to win her heart? He hoped that he had done enough to prove that. Tusdar stood and gritted his teeth. “I am worthy of being your chosen, and I will prove it, if I haven’t already. I love you. You know that.”
Mestal bit her lip and sat back down on her bed. She rubbed her face before turning to him. He saw the dark tears building in her eyes, but appreciated her restraint. There was nothing worse than seeing the only person he cared about turn on him. The thought was uncomfortable to swallow and twisted his gut.
“Tusdar. I know that you care for me, but those are just words of promises. They mean nothing to our people. We need actions and we need them now. I am the only remaining full-blooded vampire. The responsibility for all vampires falls on our shoulders now.”
Tusdar held her hand and his face hardened. “I know. This must be the hardest time for you to face, but I am here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”
Her smile warmed him. “Tusdar, and I love you too. I just have to be strong. We have to be strong.”
“We are. What does that mean, to be the last of your kind?”
Mestal stood to retrieve a new glass and poured herself a replacement.
“You didn’t get a chance to study our books. Let me make this simple for you. We were created by the goddess, Hecate. My ancestors fled to Marithia and started a new life here, after our kind was hunted down. I am a descendant of them, not a turned vampire.”
“You make me sound pathetic.”
“Don’t be so sensitive. Not everyone can create pure vampires, but we can all turn humans. For a pure one to create a child, it can only be with another pure blood, or with someone who is alive.”
The gravity of her words weighted on his shoulders. He pulled out a knife and began to cut i
nto his skin to remove the glass. The sharp pain distracted him from his bruised emotions. He didn’t know why he cared so much about this.
“I never thought of that. We can’t have children?”
Mestal drew a deep breath before drinking and wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Sadly, no. Let’s worry about all that after the war. This is not a good world for children.”
“It pains me to know that your entire family’s gone. I am so sorry.”
“Thank you, Tusdar.”
“I meant it. You spoke of pure blooded vampires. They also live forever, right? When do they stop growing?”
“Yes, we live forever once we’re fully grown. As history has proven, that’s no guarantee of seeing out an eternal life. Look, Tusdar, I appreciate all the questions, but this isn’t the time. Let’s leave this until later, and I promise to give you more answers.”
She sat beside him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry so much about everything. You might make me want to punch you sometimes, but I am always yours.”
Tusdar nodded, smiled, and then headed to their door. “Alright then. There is no more time for waiting. I need an audience with our queen.”
I am already on the way to see you, Kassina said.
It dawned on him that she would have heard everything they had said and put a hand on his tattoo. Suddenly, being connected to Shindar and Kassina didn’t seem so appealing.
He ripped the door open and ran to the portal; Mestal trailed close behind him. The few inhabitants, less than twenty, were already aligned in a row, facing the portal.
The four hollow rings of the portal to the underworld were already spinning. A red orb of light flickered in its centre, before bursting open to fill the space in the smallest circle with a watery surface. Each circle locked into place with a sound of a sheathed sword.
He remembered the first time this happened and how Kassina made him murder his best friend. In his blackening heart, he was still angry at her for torturing him and making him slay Aidan. But thinking back, he only felt a bloodlust to kill again.
Legends of Marithia: Book 3 - Talonsphere Page 4
