The Story of Evil: Volume I - Heroes of the Siege

by Tony Johnson

  As Steve looked around the stadium at the smiling, cheering faces, his eyes caught the face of a beautiful woman. She smiled at him. He nodded back with an attractive smile of his own. It caused six ladies around that area to think the smile was meant solely for them, making all of their hearts flutter.

  The woman Steve was focused on held up her arm and stuck out two fingers towards him. With the pointer and middle finger of her right hand, she held both straight up, high above her head. Steve smiled at her and nodded.

  Two points. That was all he needed before he won and moved on to the championship match.

  Steve galloped over to his side and put his jouster’s helm back on. He was handed a new lance from one of his four faithful squires. These young boys held him in the highest regard. They tried to emulate Steve’s every action and mannerism. Boys wanted to be like him, and girls were in love with him. This was the kind of attention the hometown jouster got from civilians. Everyone put their hope in him to win the golden trophy.

  Clyx was just as popular. Steve was a stable boy for the warriors when he met the stallion for the first time. He had just fed the warhorses their dinner when he heard an odd clicking sound. He quickly turned around to see where the noise had come from. Steve realized it was coming from the newborn colt with short, light brown fur, crunching on his food. Every time the animal took a bite of the hard food, his jaw clicked. That was the day Steve named him Clyx.

  When Steve rode the brown stallion through the city to the entrance of the arena on the mornings of his Qualifier’s matches, boys and girls would run up and give Clyx a carrot, just to hear the funny noise.

  Steve had never met a more loyal horse than Clyx. He had ridden him countless times on his patrols in the city and in battles against monsters outside the city. Steve rode Clyx for his jousting matches in the Celestial City’s qualifying rounds. He had competed in eight jousts held over the past two months as Celestial looked for the warrior who would represent them in the Warriors’ Jousting Tournament.

  After winning the Qualifiers, Steve was offered a different horse. A special purebred was always pedigreed years beforehand specifically for Celestial’s jouster. Somewhere there was a horse being bred for the tournament ten years down the road.

  Steve had declined the breeder’s offer. Clyx was a stallion warhorse. He wasn’t entirely agile or super-fast, but together they had a connection and a bond. Steve and Clyx had willpower that knew no ends. Sometimes that quality triumphs over physical attributes. No one could convince Steve to abandon his trusty steed. All Steve would say was, “Together we have come this far, and together we will go as far as we can.”

  During the tournament, people kept saying Clyx’s build was not meant for jousting and that Steve was just getting lucky wins. Celestial was considered the underdog and everyone expected their next match to be their last. But Steve and Clyx never lost. They were currently in their eleventh match of the Warriors’ Joust.

  Steve turned and faced his opponent, preparing for the next encounter. But before he raised his lance to show the flagman he was ready, Steve stopped. He noticed something odd in the crowd. He looked around and saw that everyone was holding up two fingers. That woman’s signal had been contagious. Two points. Steve would have responded to the crowd by holding up two fingers of his own, but in one hand he held his lance and in the other, Clyx’s reins. So instead, he just lifted his lance high above his head, pointing it to the blue sky, polka-dotted with fluffy white clouds. This elicited another eruption of cheers.

  When Cyrus, Steve’s opponent, received his lance from his own squires and signaled he was ready, the flagman slowly walked to the middle of the arena with his flag held even. As the two warriors anxiously awaited the raise of the flag, a bleeding Celestial warrior with two arrows stuck in his chest ran out into the middle of the arena yelling, “We’re under attack! We’re under attack!”

  Steve heard the screams from the crowd before he noticed the dark shadows on the sand filled arena floor. Along with every audience member, his gaze glanced towards the sky.

  Flaming boulders began raining down around everyone.

  People ran in panic in any direction possible. A boulder crushed a row of wooden stands that people had been sitting in and were trying to escape from. They were lost in the wreckage, being burned alive as the shattered wood caught fire. Other flaming boulders crashed into the buildings surrounding the arena, the very ones the people were looking out of to watch the jousting match. Some of the houses toppled over onto the escaping civilians. The smell of smoke filled the air as flames engulfed anything that could be set on fire. Unfortunately, half of the stadium was made entirely out of wood.

  Clyx spun in a complete circle while bucking. The exciting joust turned instantly chaotic made him nervous. Steve almost fell backwards off his horse, but managed to tighten his grip on the reins and stay mounted. He patted his wild horse between the ears, trying his best to compose his friend. Clyx stopped bucking, but his neighing and tail wagging were still excessive as his wide brown eyes watched in horror at the commotion surrounding him.

  Steve’s blue eyes matched his horse’s expression, although they were hidden behind the visor of his helm. Steve did all he could to try and remain calm, but his heart was racing in a panic. He, Clyx, and everyone else in the arena knew what was happening.

  Monsters were beginning an assault on the Celestial City.

  Chapter 2

  Steve noticed three of his four squires standing near his horse. He didn’t want to imagine what had happened to the missing one. Each boy had been entirely faithful in being his squire, tending to both his and Clyx’s needs for the duration of the tournament. One was tasked with supplying Steve with lances. Another constantly waved Celestial’s red and blue banner. The other two held his weapons: his sword and shield.

  My sword bearer is the one missing, Steve realized. Without being told, the squire carrying Steve’s shield reached up and handed it to the warrior. Even during an attack, here they are, standing by my side; ready and waiting.

  Then Steve saw the fear in their eyes. The boys weren’t really beside him to obey his orders. They were looking to him to protect them during the attack. Stephen Brightflame was their hero, their role model. If anyone could keep them safe it was this warrior they held in such high regard.

  Steve scanned the smoky arena through the small slits in his visor. He pointed his lance to the closest exit. “Get out of the open!” he yelled from the top of Clyx. His voice went unheard by the three boys on the ground, but they knew what he meant by the direction of his pointed lance.

  Steve watched them run for their lives as a flaming boulder crashed into the arena floor not more than thirty feet from him. He used his shield to cover his eyes as an avalanche of gritty sand shot up and covered him and everything in the surrounding vicinity.

  That was too close. Just like his squires, Steve needed to get to cover too, but it was hard to move fast on a horse when the crowd was wildly running every which way.

  Right when he started to follow the boys, Steve realized flaming boulders were not his biggest worry anymore. He watched a group of monsters come through the eastern exit. It was the same exit the three young squires were headed for.

  “Minotaurs,” Steve said under his breath as he saw the two sharp horns jutting out of each of their heads. Minotaurs were Anthropomorphic Monsters. Like the people of the four races, they walked on two legs and had free use of their arms. Three of them entered into the arena. They were equipped with axes and wearing armor that looked too small for them. Undoubtedly, it had belonged to a group of warriors they had killed in the past. Monsters had trouble making their own armor and weapons, so they would steal them from the bodies of dead warriors they had killed.

  Two of the minotaurs had short black fur covering their bodies. The other one had brown. It was the same type of short fur that Clyx had. Also similar to horses, minotaurs had rippling muscles in their limbs. They were considered ver
y aggressive monsters that did not have much skill or technique in using their weapon. Battle usually consisted of them picking a target and hacking away until it stopped moving, before doing the same to the next enemy.

  Minotaur’s heads looked like an angry bull’s head had been plopped on top of their body. They had large snouts, little ears, and beady eyes. Males had sharp, straight horns sticking out from the top of their head. Females’ horns were spiraled, comparable to ram’s horns.

  The three male monsters were wildly swinging their axes at anything that moved. Upon seeing the group of three defenseless squires, one of the beasts smiled and targeted them with his attack. The boys saw the minotaurs, turned around, and started sprinting back to Steve. But they were not fast enough. These monsters could take one step for every four of the small boys’ steps. Even if it were Steve running away, he doubted he could escape one of the muscle-bound monsters on foot.

  One of the squires was a victim of the monster’s weapon. Luckily, the boy had not seen the flaming axe being swung at his head since he was running away.

  At least he died without pain. That was the only positive Steve could come up with in the moment. But Steve’s optimism was quickly replaced with reality. What does it matter? Either way the boy’s dead.

  The squire murdering minotaur had control over the element of fire. Steve could see that the breastplate it wore was glowing with red and orange flames, the same color as its axe. As the monster squared its feet to deliver a killing blow to the two remaining children cowering in front of him, Steve kicked his heels into Clyx harder than he ever had before and raced to save them from a similar fate.

  Steve smashed his lance into the beast’s unarmored face, feeling the entire skull give way as it was easily crushed inwards. The fire on both the armor and the axe vanished the same moment the monster fell to the ground, dead. Still in a full sprint on his blue armored horse, Steve launched headfirst off Clyx, holding his shield above his head for protection. He crashed into the brown furred minotaur, shield first. The two looked like a giant ball of brown and red as they rolled over and over each other in the sand.

  Steve ended up on top and repeatedly smashed the pointed bottom of his triangular shield into his enemy’s throat. He didn’t stop until a geyser of red blood sprayed up and hit him in the face. Steve wiped it off with his gauntlet armored forearm and threw away his battered shield. He sat in the sand, next to the dead monster’s body, and took a moment to catch his breath.

  The warrior looked around for the remaining two squires and saw they had moved to both sides of the eastern exit and were waving to people, showing them the way out of the arena. For a moment, he smiled at the sight: two children who stood risking their own safety just in an attempt to bring what little order they could to the chaotic scene. They will make great warriors if they survive the rest of this day, Steve thought being both optimistic and pessimistic.

  He rolled out of the way as a giant electrically charged axe slammed into the sand, right where his head had just been. The final minotaur in black fur was standing above a weaponless Steve. The monster was furiously mad. Steve realized the other black one he had killed with his lance must have been a close relation. He preferred to think they were lovers. Quite possibly it could have been both. Since monsters did not have morals, it did not matter to them if it was family who pleased them in that way. Warriors often made jokes at the expense of monsters. Incest was prevalent in many of the punch lines.

  Steve lay on the ground with no weapon or shield for protection. He looked up at the minotaur, preparing to die as his enemy raised a sparking lightning axe and started to bring it down for the easy kill.

  Chapter 3

  Steve breathed a sigh of relief as someone impaled the armored monster from behind. The tip of a sword entered through its back and came out of its chest. Steve rolled out of the way as the dead minotaur almost fell down on top of him.

  “And with that I take the lead! Five points to four,” a warrior yelled over the deafening sounds of the battle and roaring flames. He stepped forward and pulled the sword out of the monster. Steve looked up and grabbed the arm of his best friend Tyrus Canard, who pulled him up off the ground.

  “Cutting it close that time, huh?” Steve shouted back as he removed his restrictive jouster’s helm and held it to his side.

  “I wanted you to see how helpless and vulnerable you are when I’m not around to save you,” Ty smiled back.

  “What would I do without you?” Steve said, feeding Ty’s pride.

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to live in a world without me,” Ty said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Steve and Ty were as close as brothers could be without sharing the same bloodline. They were both orphans who had been adopted by the same warrior, Titus Thatcher. Steve had been abandoned by his parents at the age of two and Tyrus’ parents had been murdered when he was only a child. Titus Thatcher had been close friends with Ty’s warrior father, Caesar Canard, and served as godfather to Ty and his older brother Darren.

  Warriors often had godparents set up for their children because they knew they were in the most dangerous profession. They wanted to make sure their children were provided for in case they were killed in action.

  Steve and Ty grew up together and rarely left each other’s company. The two warriors had had many adventures together fighting monsters and always seemed to barely find their way out of hopeless situations.

  Ty joked around a lot on the battlefield, especially during close encounters with death. Steve didn’t mind it because he knew humor was Ty’s way of dealing with the stressors of battle. He had even come to realize that laughing along with Ty (or at Ty) seemed to help ease his mind as well.

  Some warriors used humor in the stressful situations of battle for multiple reasons. One was because in being so close to death, all warriors preferred having the last living memory of a fallen brother to be one in which he was smiling. They also used humor as a way to mask the emotions they felt in battle situations. If Ty could have seen behind Steve’s mask of a smile, he would have noticed that Steve was just as scared as everyone else that was running from the arena.

  “Brightflame!” Steve exclaimed as Ty handed him the weapon he had used to kill the minotaur.

  “I know how much that sword means to you,” Ty said.

  Steve looked up and down his sword as he held it out in his hand, examining it as if it was a precious jewel. He had entrusted it to his eldest squire while he jousted; the first squire who wasn’t with the other three after the attack began. As soon as Steve grabbed the weapon, he winced in slight pain. The coil around the hilt was warm.

  “Why is this hot?” he asked, looking at Ty. Steve knew the answer as soon as he asked the question. The emotion in Ty’s face told Steve that he didn’t need to ask about the squire’s condition when Ty had retrieved the sword from him. Steve knew one of the flaming boulders was the cause of the boy’s death. The fact that Ty had given him only the sword, and not the leather sheath the boy carried the sword in, made sense.

  Metal doesn’t melt as easily as leather.

  “You didn’t hear any warning horns from the outer watchtowers did you?” Steve asked another question, quickly trying to get his mind off the subject of the dead child. He didn’t know if he missed hearing the attack alarm being sounded because of the noise in the arena.

  “No, there was no alarm. I have no idea how the catapults got close enough to launch into the city without being noticed by the patrolling warriors.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Ty,” Steve said, looking around at the surrounding chaos.

  “As do I.” Ty nodded, feeling the same pit in his stomach.

  The boulders had achieved their purpose because the monsters had broken down enough of the inner wall that they were now easily entering Celestial. The other purpose of the flaming boulders was to set the city on fire. That goal was accomplished as well. All around Steve and Ty, the wooden parts of the st
adium were engulfed in flames. As the two brothers stood there, a whole side of the arena collapsed, sending embers swirling high into the air. They both knew it was time to keep moving. They were warriors. It was their job to protect the city and to save the lives of the civilians.

  “Where are you headed?” Ty asked.

  “To protect the castle,” Steve said as he nodded to the north, where the top of a castle tower was now visible through the caved-in side of the arena. “What about you?”

  Ty pointed up to the sky. Steve looked up and saw monsters flying high overhead in the sky. Immediately, Steve knew that Ty was going to fight the monsters in the air. This was one of the most dangerous duties of the warriors, but one that Ty had been trained in and was skilled at.

  “Be safe, brother,” Steve told Ty before they embraced in a hug.

  Ty pulled away and responded with his typical witty humor, “What’s the fun in being safe?” before running off and disappearing into the heavy smoke.

  Steve breathed out a quick two noted whistle, the first note high, the second higher. Clyx perked up, looked in Steve’s direction, and began to trot over to him. The stallion had run over to a small spot of the arena where the smoke hadn’t reached yet. Steve grabbed his horse’s reins and rubbed him between the nose and eyes to calm him down again.

  “Easy, boy…easy,” Steve said, soothing his horse so he could safely mount him. “I need you to be good, okay? It looks like today’s excitement has only just begun.”

  “Jouster!” someone interrupted, yelling in a nervous and shaky voice. Steve hurriedly led Clyx over to where the sound came from. Steve didn’t see anyone other than a dead jousting horse on the ground with blood pouring out of a huge gash through its armor. The voice called out again. “Brightflame!”