From time to time, rogue survivors of Shindar’s army attacked settlements. They were blind to the reality that the war had already ended and mindlessly carried out their lord's final commands. They were quickly defeated in battle. Tensions remained high, but the attacks lowered in frequency and intensity over time. Shindar’s defeat returned him to the underworld, where he waited patiently, anticipating the prophecy that would allow his return. The dark underworld existed in a parallel realm that could only be reached with the aid of powerful magic. Shindar, an ancient force of evil, never gave a reason for starting the war, and his motives were enigmatic to Marithians. However, over the long years of peace, many Marithians had forgotten his name and foolishly allowed his memory to become a distant one.
Vampires swiftly established a civilisation within a civilisation, blending in with humans and steering clear of Veldrenn. Over time, beauty returned to all of Marithia’s war-ravaged lands. Sadly, this age of peace would be relatively short-lived.
Chapter 1: Marithia
“If you are fortunate, you may sense when we are near. A chill may slowly ascend like a spider up your spine to warn of a darker presence nearby.
We are the chosen ones, commanded only by the great sorceress Kassina. Many have fallen in their quest for her knowledge and power.
If it is answers or power that you seek, you must locate her tower and gain her favour.”
(Unknown)
Ever since the day nine hundred years earlier when Shindar had obtained his child of prophecy, the Forces of Darkness had rapidly risen in power. Vampires revolted against the cruel actions of King Grueber, exacting their own bloody vengeance by hunting down any human they could find. Vampires made a critical error in their bloodlust by underestimating and attacking the great elves, who immediately stood their ground and put up a courageous fight. Veldrenn was fortified against the sudden surge of attacks, and after a brutal war, the elves were victorious. As it often does, however, victory came at a grave price: the elves were driven to the brink of extinction.
Humans and elves put aside their differences, and to drive back the remainder of the vampires that were picking off anyone unlucky enough to cross their paths, entered into an uneasy alliance. Greenhaven was the shining jewel of this newfound alliance, and within its walls was a promise of security and peace. It was decreed that all vampires were to be killed on sight. A new flag was woven, depicting human and elven knights standing guard. It was proudly flown as a symbol of strength and unity.
Meanwhile, reports of encounters with rogue shadow demons were whispered among all Marithians. Fear spread amongst the people, and the Marithian economy suffered greatly as a result. People frequently disappeared on their travels to She’Ma’Ryn, the City of Wonders, and knights commonly accompanied hunters for protection, with gold to line their pockets for their troubles.
Shindar’s Forces of Darkness were not so brazen, but instead used stealthy tactics. The new human-elf alliance proved effective, and the Forces of Darkness were outnumbered. Unrelenting blades and arrows held back their reign of terror. Shindar worked Kassina tirelessly to gather the souls required for the prophecy of the Blood Red Moon. Regardless of all the souls that she dispatched in Marithia and sent to Shindar’s grip in the underworld, it was never enough. Greenhaven held the majority of the human population in Marithia. For the prophecy to be fulfilled, Greenhaven would have to be successfully infiltrated from the inside. Segregation and panic were necessary if there was to be any chance of the great city being taken.
Vampire numbers quickly thinned. As a final, desperate act, they abased themselves at the gates of Kassina’s tower, becoming Shindar’s servants. This tower was the heart of the Forces of Darkness, and was surrounded by dying lands that eroded the lush earth at a slow but steady pace. The lowlands surrounding the tower had almost completely dried up, and were plagued by decay as the life was drained from them.
Greenhaven adopted a policy of zero tolerance as its walls were filled to capacity by those seeking refuge and protection. Defiance, thievery or any breaking of the sacred laws was met with fair but brutal punishment. Entry to Greenhaven was restricted, and its inhabitants rarely left its protective walls to allow others to take their place. Order was upheld within Greenhaven, as both elves and humans focused their strengths on their common enemy.
She flew gracefully in the limitless blue sky, each rhythmic beat of her large wings propelling her closer to her destination. The wind caressed her scales like a mother warmly cradling her child. It had been a long time since any dragon had flown this far into Marithia, but she immediately felt at home in its familiar skies. Nymira was one of the few ancient dragons who had survived. Over millions of years, dragons had witnessed the world change around them, and they, in turn, had changed with it. Many Marithians foolishly believed that dragons had fallen into extinction. Dragons could only be seen if they allowed themselves to be. Over countless brutal years in the world, the power of evolution had granted dragons a precious and invaluable gift: they developed the ability to adjust their scales to enable them to hide within the world around them. By this means they successfully managed to remain hidden from the rest of the world for tens of thousands of years. At times dragons could be heard or even felt, but were often sadly mistaken as only a figment of the imagination. But although they had largely faded from the memory of Marithia, they had not become indifferent to its destiny; where opportunity presented itself, they influenced events in history for the protection of Marithians.
Nymira took only a brief moment to observe the changed land of Marithia rolling by beneath her. Dragons were the most sensitive beings to the effects of magic and the power emanating from the Elven Woods hummed through her bones. She equally felt the dark magic plaguing the lowlands from Kassina's tower as if a storm cloud covered her.
It had been a treacherous journey, but Karven had sent her personally, and she would never be able to forgive herself if she let the great dragon king down. He had stressed to her that today’s events were of immense importance, and she had almost reached her destination. She returned her attention to her mission and pressed on.
The city had taken hundreds of years to complete and was a wondrous sight for her to behold after such a long absence. Its stone was covered with a solid layer of shimmering gold that was visible from many great lands and could have been used as a navigation point for those who attempted to brave the deadly seas, if the seas had not been a fatal journey for any who had set sail. Sadly, nobody knew of any sailor that had ever returned home alive.
This great stronghold was now home to thousands of women, men and children. They earned their entry with gold, trade, or through those who held the power to influence. Some, if they were incredibly lucky, were awarded it for service to the crown. The city had prospered, and many trade routes were now well-established. Some called it paradise, most who lived within its walls simply called it home, but all who walked the lands of Marithia knew the city as Greenhaven.
Only a soft swell of wind granted any hint of her presence as Nymira landed as gracefully as a butterfly on its gleaming walls. She took a brief moment to steady her grip in the cracks between the stones, folded her great wings, and scaled the walls to find a window overlooking the great throne room. After what felt like an eternity of searching, she found one and peered inside.
The throne room was filled with dusty beams of vivid yellow light as if it were lit from the heavens. Intricate furniture and beautifully painted walls provided an air of elegance to Greenhaven’s royal quarters. Great statues of heroes throughout the ages were almost brought to life by the many colours of the stained glass windows. Statues of powerful warlocks, armoured knights and two dragons were neatly arranged in the corners of the room. Nymira recognized herself in one of the statues and smiled as memories of the ancients returned to her for but a moment.
Greenhaven’s royals wore only the most elaborate clothing available in all the lands, woven by both human and elven hands
and detailed with patterns taken from nature. They were a stunning combination of rare furs, jewels and the finest of coloured silks. The king was no exception, dressed today in a jade coloured garb, but the beauty of his attire did nothing to hide the expression of anger on his face.
It was not the first time that Vartan had knelt before his king’s throne, but he feared somehow that this would not be a pleasant meeting.
“How could you allow this travesty to happen? She was almost killed, Vartan! I trusted you with her life, and after I granted you care of Helenia, this is how you repay me? Look at her, damn you! I demand an explanation!”
Vartan drew a deep, ragged breath into tired lungs surrounded by heavily bruised ribs, removed the bloodstained helm that was partly obscuring his vision and took a brief moment to observe the room.
King Arman and Queen Andrielle had produced only two children, Princess Helenia and Prince Derian. The two differed from each other in every aspect, and had never gotten along in their childhood. Derian sat comfortably beside the king, with a sly smirk on his face.
He’s enjoying this too much, thought Vartan.
Vartan’s instincts told him that the attack on the royal guard could only have been so successful if the assailants had known precisely where Helenia would travel, and the exact number of knights that would accompany her on her journey. Derian was one of the few people privileged enough to be entrusted with such sensitive information, and he hungered bitterly for the power of the throne.
Andrielle was the Queen of the Elves, and with her marriage to Arman she had forged a new alliance between humans and elves that would see the two races joined for eternity. The king was still young, and the wait to inherit the crown through his father’s natural death was too long for Derian to bear. The prince threatened more than the stability of Greenhaven. If the Elven Queen were ever to be harmed by human hands, it would ignite bloodshed the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the ancient war.
Vartan looked to Helenia and was momentarily lost in her beauty. The princess’s face was kind, her skin pale from lack of exposure to the sun. Her bright blue eyes looked deep into his soul, and he managed a smile before quickly looking away. Princess Helenia could only be wed with the unconditional written approval of both the king and queen. Suitors from other settlements would soon be seeking her hand in marriage, looking to forge alliances and further strengthen Greenhaven.
The love between Vartan and Helenia had existed in secrecy for many years. He was a mere farm boy turned knight, whose only tangible riches were those that the crown treasury allocated him for performing his duties to the throne. What hope could he ever have of gaining the royal blessing to marry the princess?
Vartan placed his crown-provided silver helm down beside his right foot with a loud thud that echoed far down the corridors of the royal chambers, and began to speak slowly through his cracked lips. “Your Highness, we barely escaped with our lives. How could we possibly have been ambushed with such precision and timing? This attack could not have been solely the work of thieves and vagabonds. They were armed with weapons forged by skilled hands, and fought with a purpose unlike that of any thief engaged in battle.”
Be careful, Vartan. I sense true darkness around us.
The elves held many well-kept secrets; Helenia’s ability to speak through minds was one of many elven gifts she had been born with and practiced privately with Vartan.
Forgive my intrusion, but she speaks the truth, young knight.
This voice was unknown to Vartan, and it sounded almost bestial. It held such immense power within it that Vartan was left momentarily stunned.
There is something you must see, and it is of great importance. Open your mind to me, and I promise you will come to no harm.
Vartan focused hard on clearing his mind and felt a sudden jolt as a connection was made with the dragon suspended from the outside wall.
With a blinding flash, Vartan found himself hovering above a place he’d never seen before, a dark room lit only by soft candlelight. It was as if he was within the walls themselves, and had become one with the stone. He heard the soothing sound of water as it gently trickled somewhere beyond the light, and soft footsteps approaching from afar.
A tall figure slowly materialised from the darkness. It wore a crimson hooded robe and had a small dark wooden chest in its hands that rattled heavily with the sound of coins. The hood hung low and shielded the face of the figure inside it, but there was something painfully familiar about it, and a wave of uneasiness overcame Vartan. This was evidently not the first time that they had met.
Calm yourself... this is only a vision, thought Vartan.
An old wooden table bearing various marks of wear sat alone in the darkness. The figure hesitated for a moment before walking towards the table cautiously. It slowly began to be illuminated by brighter lights which revealed the intricate golden artwork on his robe. The chest he held bore the royal crest of Greenhaven.
That’s not possible! Those chests are only given to—
Yes, young knight, your eyes do not deceive you.
Another figure approached with much haste from the darkness, and Vartan felt sick to the stomach at his presence. The new figure swiftly pulled his hood back from his head to reveal himself and spoke quietly but forcefully. “It is all here. You are well-compensated for your troubles.”
That’s Derian! I should have known.
“That may be so, young prince. As you know, she will be well-protected and this brings a certain element of danger which our kind does our best to avoid. What of the royal guards?” asked the mysterious man.
Derian's eyes narrowed at the man. “I’m sure you can handle some guards, can’t you? Or should I seek out someone else for the task?”
“Your words are unnecessarily sharp, young prince; doubting our abilities is an unnecessary wounding of our reputation. I hear many whispers of a loyal knight who leads them on this journey who has a particular talent of disposing of demons. What do you know of him?”
Derian sighed loudly, reached into his robe, and snatched a white scroll bearing the royal marks of Greenhaven.
“Here is a map of the surrounding lands; it details where Helenia will be traveling. Worry not of the knight, as I already have a plan for... dealing... with Vartan. If you somehow manage to kill him yourself, it would save me a lot of trouble and would land you the role of military advisor to me as your new king."
Derian unrolled the scroll on the table and pointed out the exact location of the ambush.
"This is where I suggest you attack them. If all goes to plan, and you perform your duties without hesitation or incompetence, then the king’s famed knights won’t be around to protect him. Without the knights, we won’t have a problem. Now get to work and prepare. It’s time for my precious sister to have a little unfortunate accident.” Derian laughed darkly.
The man scoffed and snatched the scroll from the table. "We don't question the jobs we are given; we only question the payment. But I now see why your cold heart is truly worthy of Kassina's affections."
Derian grabbed the man roughly by the throat, and brought him close to growl in his ear. “Never forget who you are talking to! Did you bring me my special request?”
The mysterious figure forced away Derian’s hand angrily, reached into his coat, and slowly drew out a tall, dark bottle of liquid.
“Never lay your hands on me! I am not one of your servants, and your moods have been unpredictable of late. The next time you grab me will be your last. I hope you appreciate how difficult it has become to fulfil your requests. People are beginning to grow suspicious of the disappearances…”
“Vartan! Vartan? Whatever is the matter with you?” asked Arman, who now stood from his throne.
Vartan drew another deep breath as his mind hazily returned to the present as if he was a sobering drunk. His head felt like a struck bell from the connection with the dragon’s mind, and he brought his hand up to his forehead in a useless atte
mpt to ease the throbbing pain within.
Helenia stood confidently to address the room, but the look of concern on her face worried Vartan. “Father, the attack is not the fault of Sir Vartan. If he hadn’t protected us with his own life, I might not be here at all. By the gods, just look at him! He is clearly hurt. I suffered only a scratch and I am here to tell the tale of the ambush. Isn’t that what is most important?”
Arman turned his attention to his daughter and sat back down on his throne.
“My dear Helenia, you speak out of turn. Of course we are all relieved that you have returned to us. But until you have been asked to speak, I strongly urge you to display one of our most practised virtues—patience,” replied Arman.
Helenia sat back down heavily at her father’s reprimand. Her face reddened and her nostrils flared.
Arman turned to Vartan and cocked his head slightly. “From Helenia's reports and from what I know of you, you fought with honour, Vartan, and that I would not doubt. However, I simply cannot excuse the fact that Derian had warned you of a planned attack, and you chose not to heed his words."
The king stirred in his chair, "What else am I to do? This is a failure of your sworn duties as a knight, and therefore you simply must be punished. I cannot be seen to have laws for some and differing laws for others. Therefore, failure to heed such a warning carries serious consequences. You knew this the day you were knighted.”
Derian glowed with delight, a conniving smile dancing its way from ear to ear.
This was his plan for me all along? thought Vartan. Then I truly have nothing to lose. I must try to warn the king, no matter what the consequences are.
Legends of Marithia: Book 1 - Prophecies Awakening: Uncut and Extended Second Edition Page 2
