Raising her eyebrow, she asked, “Are you going to run like the cowards you are? This town belongs to us now.”
Drubb and Marr shared a glance, nodding in agreement. Drubb launched his hip sword into the air.
“Not if we can help it,” Marr said, catching Drubb’s hip sword by the hilt.
The elves charged at Wumvarn. Marr kicked into the dirt, sending dust into the demon’s face. The demon shook off the dirt and laughed, gripping the air before her with both hands, raising her arms and lifted the elves from the ground, suspending them in the air.
“So, which of you wants to die first?” she said.
Marr looked around to see that no help was coming. He turned back to Wumvarn and spat in her direction. “Damn you, you horror!”
“I was damned long ago, elf.”
Wumvarn pulled her right hand toward her and his body flew through the air to land on her fist, which punctured through his ribs. His screams weakened as he felt his heart being ripped from his chest. When he fell to the ground, the last memory he had before his world quickly darkened, was Drubb’s cries as he suffered the same fate.
Why did no help come? he thought, before he thought no more.
Vartan opened his eyes, flinching as drops of water hit his face. He tried to wipe it away, but he was completely drenched. The many trees surrounding him were familiar, but his confusion built as people whispered around him. Standing up, he noticed that he wore a tunic.
“What’s going on?” he said, looking around.
He missed something dear to him, and he clutched at his chest, stumbling toward a tree and resting against it. “Keturah, where are you?”
The whispers surrounding him grew to mumbles.
Chosen one... Rise... Awaken...
“What? Who are you?” he said, and when nobody answered him, he began to run.
I have to get back to Greenhaven, he thought.
My love, where are you going?
Vartan nearly tripped over from the shock of Helenia’s voice, and he frantically hunted the area for her.
“Helenia? I am here!” he said.
You are here, but you are too late.
Her voice came from all around him. Tears welled in his eyes as he began to cry. “No, my love... It cannot be true.”
He wiped his eyes and was overjoyed when he saw Helenia step out from behind a tree, her body glowing in the forest’s shadows. “Vartan, don’t cry. My heart hurts like yours. What has been, shall always be.”
Vartan ran to her, but when he tried to embrace her in his arms, he went straight through the blinding light, falling to the ground. The pain of this reality unleashed from within him, choking his breath and twisting his heart. He wasn’t ready to accept her death.
“I will find a way to bring you back. There has to be a spell or something,” Vartan said, returning to his feet.
Helenia shook her head and frowned. “No, Vartan, there is no way to bring me back to your world.”
“I will not let you be brought to life again in the underworld. The things Shindar would do to you,” Vartan said.
Helenia approached him and looked into his eyes, a tear streaking down her cheek. “Oh Vartan. I love you more than you realise, but you need to focus on what you were born to do. Worry not, as I am bound to the spirit of the earth.”
Vartan reached forward and watched as his hand disappeared into her cheek. Blinding light escaped from her body. He pulled his hand back and formed a fist in the air, gritting his teeth as the pain took a harder hold.
“Where are we? And what has happened to you?”
“How we have met like this is a question for the gods, not I, but I am one with Marithia now. She bleeds from her wounds, Vartan, and it is up to you to stop it. When you want to speak with me, you only need to come to the Elven Woods, and call my name.”
“Is that the whispers?”
Helenia nodded and smiled. “You hear them; the ones she has chosen.”
“Why did you do something so reckless? You were not meant to die.”
“I can see now that it was my fate all along. She has helped me see what has been, is, and some of what will be. I was holding you back, Vartan. Selfish, mortal desires which would have kept you from your destiny. My death has freed you.”
Vartan felt his heart surging through his chest and sobbed as tears streaked down his cheeks. He allowed himself to grieve. “But... I was not ready for you to leave me. I’m alone in this world. I miss you, and love you so much.”
Helenia raised her hand to his face, and although the thought warmed his heart, he could not feel her touch. How he longed for her embrace, and he knew that it would never be again. He thought back to the last time that he held her, swearing to always protect her.
I failed you, he thought.
“We are not together in body, but I never truly left you. I will watch over you, whenever I can. My love for you transcends the bonds of flesh. We are joined in the old ways, and our souls will always be connected. You are not alone and never will be. I miss you too.”
Vartan watched as black butterflies descended from the treetops around him, flickering through the air and landing in a large circle around him. He wiped his eyes and reached out to catch one on his open hand, watching as its wings blinked in time with Helenia’s eyelids.
“Vartan, stay true to your purpose and know that however you save Marithia, I will never forget you or change my eternal love for you.”
Vartan placed his hand near her heart and restrained himself from trying to touch her. The pain of being unable to comfort her cut through him.
“And neither will I forget you. I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, before slapping him across the face. “Wake up!”
The shock of the blow surprised him.
Can I touch her now?
Vartan put a hand toward one cheek, and she slapped his other. “Come on, wake up!”
A blinding light flashed around him, and when the third slap hit him, he woke on the Marithian shores, catching Trisa’s hand as she went to slap him again. Trisa’s fingertips on her left hand glowed, looking for damage. The sky was turning velvet, and Vartan heard chaotic commotion around him.
“Hey, Prince Vartan is awake!” she said.
Yuski ran to his side, her body suffering many bruises and cuts. “So he is. About time too.”
“This is truly remarkable. He should have drowned in the water, and to have suffered no damage from the fall?” Trisa said, busy checking him over.
Did he wake from a dream, a vision? Or something else. He couldn’t be sure, and he was determined to seek answers. Denial of the truth would save him the pain. The pain returned to him like an old enemy. As soon as he could, he would seek her out.
They stared at his watering eyes, and he wanted no pity from them or have them see his moments of weakness. He had already shown them too much of that. He closed his eyes. Although he couldn’t stop the pain in his heart, he could clear his thoughts and paint a new picture that he could focus on.
“Moments like these, I am even more thankful to carry Mazu within me. How is Kari? Is she hurt?” Vartan said, rubbing his head and dusting sand off his armour.
“Are you jesting? Her protective god awakened as she fell. I was bruised, but she was the one who saved me,” Yuski said.
The more he tried to push the pain away and focus on something else, the more he knew he couldn’t stop it all.
“Helenia,” he said, drawing a deep breath. He looked to the gaped mouths on faces as pale as the old moon. They mustn’t have known what he was going to do. He wanted so badly to hold Yuski and weep, but he couldn’t do it in front of his people. He must remain strong, even if he was broken inside.
“She’s gone. I know,” Vartan said, finding his feet and looking toward Greenhaven.
The western wall had collapsed, with exception to sections that clung to the remaining turrets. Some dragons were busy picking up the heaviest chunks of
the wall, and moving them to the training fields within Greenhaven. Others hauled large buckets of water to put out fires within the castle.
Stay strong. Keep it together, he thought.
“We found her remains with her armour. I am truly sorry,” Trisa said.
Her words echoed in his mind, and any hope of her remaining alive was torn from him. He turned away from them, rubbing his eyes with his palms.
Vartan turned back and squinted. “Thank you, Trisa, but I need some time before I can speak more of this. Where is the queen? Is Andrielle alright?”
Trisa nodded and joined in staring at the fallen castle wall. “I haven’t seen her, but I think she must be occupied within the remaining walls. I thought Greenhaven could withstand anything.”
“It appears we were both wrong on that one. They dealt us a heavy blow, but I see that we are wasting no time in rebuilding,” Vartan said.
“What other choice do we have but to rebuild?” Anakari said, approaching from behind him, carrying long planks of wood. As he looked into her eyes, he saw her pity. She tightened her grip on the wood as she mumbled a few syllables.
Vartan held back a volcano of pain, and he was not ready to deal with the aftermath if it erupted. He steeled himself and unwound the fists he was unaware he had made, quickly searching under his chest plate.
I am still here, Vartan. I don’t know what to say, but I can feel your pain. Do not ask me to confirm the truth of what you already know, Keturah said.
You need say nothing at all. I need some time, Vartan thought.
I understand and am here when you are ready. I’m sorry.
He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring her, or himself.
Vartan forced a smile and approached Anakari, taking the planks of wood from under her arms. “Let’s stay focused. This is the best time for our enemies to strike.”
Chapter 15 : Tainted Shadows
“We grow fond of what’s familiar, like the family dinner table we grow from staring up at, to sitting down and eating on.
What happens when the table is turned? Or thrown upside down?
The bitter taste of the unexpected is hard to swallow.”
(Kai’En - Marithian Seer)
Shindar thundered around the table of monks, many of them hunched over. The demon of darkness smashed his fist on the table, startling some tired monks as he stared them down.
Patience was never one of his virtues. He wanted to strike back at his enemies and damn the costs. The humiliation of being forced back into the underworld was one he would not bear.
“Our forces have been defeated, again. Kassina is no longer connected to me, and none of you can explain why. The Blood Red Moon is weakening, and if we don’t do something soon, then the war will be lost before I step another foot on Marithian soil. At least the demons had the sense to join us, and succeeded in battle. The blood fiends were completely useless. What use do I have for you?”
The monks stared at Shindar, a few of them stirred in their seats, but one rose shakily to face him. A part of him enjoyed that someone had some balls to stand up to him. Maybe they had lost their senses in their exhaustion. He cared not.
“My lord, there are elements which we couldn’t discover the reasoning behind, and we are no closer to discovering the location of Talonsphere. Kassina cannot be found through any spell we have attempted. However, you can return to Marithia. It will come at a heavy price.”
Shindar brightened at the monk’s words, and a dark grin spread across his face. “Go on.”
“The spell which captures souls in our realm, uses a great amount of our power. With the Blood Red Moon already initiated, and our realms already beginning to merge, the souls we keep, including our skeleton warriors, are slowing the merge.”
The picture was clearing in his mind. He could almost taste the blood of those he would slaughter. The excitement raged through his body.
“You mean to say that if I kill the Marithians here, then I can return?”
“That is correct, but it would take a heavy sacrifice. You would need to kill many, which would render your army heavily depleted. All magic used in the underworld comes at a price, and has to be borrowed. If you release more of that magic, then Marithia will fall deeper into the grip of the Blood Red Moon, and your powers would grow.”
Shindar narrowed his eyes for a moment, and the room was as silent as a temple. Shindar chewed his bottom lip, considering his options.
Losing most of his army was not what he imagined doing. Their souls would be lost to him and return to the gods that he despised more than anything. He would be doing the gods a favour. One that would last as long as Marithia remained theirs to watch over.
“Is there anything else that we can do?” Shindar said.
The monk looked to the others, who all shook their heads.
“Even with cutting off our support for Zhendur, we are losing the balance of magic. No, that is all we can do.”
Shindar nodded, stretching his shoulders and neck. He launched toward the speaking monk, and in a smooth motion, drew his sword and plunged it through his chest. The monks were too weak to respond. He ruthlessly dispatched the entire room’s inhabitants in swift moves, leaving their twitching bodies to crumple to the floor.
Wiping his sword on their robes, he grimaced as he marched to the nearest door and booted it open. The force of the blow reverberated down his dark tower’s corridors. His monstrous steps were followed by screams as he killed anyone in his path. Anyone foolish enough to put up a fight was swiftly dispatched. Some defending monks attempted to cast fireballs on Shindar, with some managing to make contact, but most were deflected or absorbed. He was minimally unaffected by their magic, absorbing the blows, and relishing in the burns that’s he knew would quickly heal.
His eyes glowed as he proceeded through his tower. Nobody was safe as he dispatched any being in sight.
I will walk the lands of Marithia once more. Whatever it takes, he thought.
Vartan had completed a day of assisting rebuilding efforts. He had succeeded in keeping himself so busy that his body ached. His mind was on those around him. By burying his grief, he had planted a timed explosion in his heart. The wick was short, and he wasn’t sure how long it would keep burning.
It amazed him how lonely he felt, listening to the sound of his own breathing. His heart was cold as waves of pain washed along its shores.
He ascended the stairs, making his way toward his bedroom. Their bedroom. Each step was a struggle. He dusted off the dirt from his armour. Yuski and Anakari had wished him goodnight. The Blood Red Moon had already risen, its crimson shadow casting through the castle’s windows.
This is harder than I ever imagined it would be.
Vartan stopped in front of the dusty beams from the nearest window, raising his hand to cast shadows, and watching as the dust scurried from his touch. The moon’s glow was a darker shade than he remembered. He thought back to the butterfly in his meeting with Helenia, and he scrunched his eyes, clenching his jaw as he continued his ascent.
Vartan, I feel your pain and am also being torn apart from the inside. You have to let your feelings be freed, before they destroy you. I fear they may destroy us both, Keturah said.
Deep down, he knew that she was right. This pain was all too familiar. When he thought he had failed and lost his brother, his world darkened. He feared this could consume him.
He paused and leaned back, focusing on his echoing footsteps. When he heard another set behind him, he drew his sword. Its shiny surface reflected moonlight as the blade lay flat in front of him, a sharp ringing echoing down the stairs.
He growled, “Who goes there?”
Straining his ears, he heard no more sounds, then sheathed his sword and turned back.
Whoever it is, let them come, he thought, forming fists.
Vartan, I worry about what is going through your head, Keturah said.
You and me both.
He soon came to his door, placin
g his hands on its surface and shoving it open. The sharp creaking of the door’s hinges made him wince. Their bedroom windows had been left ajar; a strong wind blew over him. He drew a deep breath of crisp night air and exhaled a cloud of fog. Closing the door behind him, he found that each step was hard as he made his way past the bed that he had recently shared with his wife.
He couldn’t bear to look at it. Staring at the floor was a better option for him. A safer option. His heart surged when he sat on the bed, and he gritted his teeth as he launched off it. He didn’t think he could sleep, and certainly not where he could still smell her.
He ran his fingertips over the satin covered sheets and made his way to the open windows, shutting them. Vartan began to undo his armour, first removing his helmet and placing it on the ground beside him. He had not realised that tears had smeared his face, until he saw himself in the mirror. As his face twisted from a surge of agony, the vision of himself blurred.
Looking away from his reflection, he stared at the ground and grimaced, struggling for breath. He watched as tear drops splattered on his helmet. In a smooth motion, he picked it up and launched it, watching as the helm crashed into his cupboard and broke the left door into two pieces. The broken pieces fell to the floor and revealed Helenia’s dresses within. Her white wedding gown shone in the moonlight.
He felt it coming. It was an avalanche that he was powerless to stop
Vartan growled as he drew his sword and swung it through the air, twisting as he kicked the wall with all his might, sending dust flying around him.
“I failed her!” he said, his rage awakening the spirit of Mazu inside him. He turned toward the bedside tables, narrowing his glowing eyes as he raised his sword above his head. He froze in his tracks as he felt the icy touch of night air, and the long white fabric of Helenia’s gown flew out from the cupboard, waving before him as if it were a flag.
Legends of Marithia: Book 3 - Talonsphere Page 18
