The Legend of Alexandros: Belen

by Mr. A. C. Hernandez

  “Goodnight, my lady.”

  “Goodnight to you as well…Belen,” she replied and slowly closed the sheet.

  Alexandros smiled, and for the remainder of the night he stood guard over the princess. He heard the faint sounds of her crying herself to sleep.

  When morning came Alexandros was still standing in front of the hut, sword by his side. The merchant awoke lying on the cold forest ground near the dying fire, not knowing how he got there. With a tired morning voice, he asked, “How on earth did I get out here?”

  “You were kind enough to allow the Princess Elora to sleep in your hut,” Alexandros said jokingly.

  The merchant sat up and tilted his head. “Huh?”

  As he stared at Alexandros, still not knowing what was going on, the Princess had, too, awoken.

  “Good morning, my lady,” said Alexandros as she stepped out of the hut.

  “Good morning,” she replied with a smile.

  The merchant jumped up to his feet. He spit in his hand and pushed back his messy grey hair. “Oh my! When did you arrive?”

  “Late last night,” Alexandros answered for her, glaring at him.

  “No matter,” he snapped back at Alexandros. “Such a pretty young thing as yourself is more than welcomed, my name is…”

  “It is not important,” Alexandros cut in. “The lady and I will be leaving today.”

  The merchant’s face grew sad; it had been many years since he had the company of another, and he did not want Alexandros to leave.

  “Very well,” the merchant said. “Cannot linger here forever you know.”

  Alexandros put his hand on the merchant’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.

  “There is no way I will be able to repay you, old man, but thank you for all you have done. I am truly grateful.”

  “Just come back and visit sometime. I get bored speaking to trees.”

  Alexandros let out a small laugh and agreed. He then gathered his things, and he and the princess entered the forest.

  They soon made it back to the road and walked up hill through the mountains for most of the day. Side by side they walked, looking at the grassy mountain area. The fields near the mountains were exquisite. Tall trees full of lavish green leaves and peaches gave off a sweet scent that filled the air with peace and serenity.

  “Are you a wandering warrior?” Elora asked him.

  He smiled forcefully, then turned to her. “My entire village was destroyed along with my family…by the very demons that took over your kingdom.”

  She took his hand. “We have much in common then, Belen.”

  His heart stopped for a moment, and he quickly changed the subject. “The next village is not far from us now.”

  Elora slowly released his hand. “Where are we going exactly, Belen?”

  “Ezdacir, the centaur village. My father had friends there that may help us.”

  After walking almost all morning up the mountain-side, Alexandros and Elora soon approached a huge bronzed gate; carved into the gate was a mighty stallion. The gate had been built in between two long horizontal stone walls. A centaur guard stood in a somewhat tall watchtower on the other side of the gate.

  “What brings you two wanderers to Ezdacir?” the guard asked in a harsh demanding voice.

  “We are here to see the centaur king, Tobias,” Alexandros replied in a semi-shout.

  The centaur guard looked Alexandros up and down suspiciously.

  “And who shall I say is here to see him?” the centaur warrior asked.

  “Tell Tobias…Mabruk wishes to speak with him.”

  CHAPTER III

  EZADCIR, THE

  CENTAUR VILLAGE

  THE CENTAURS ARE a race of creatures composed of part human and part horse. The centaurs are said to have been born of Ixion and Nephele. Centaurs are best known for their true honor; centaurs hold themselves up with great respect and are the most noble of warriors. Centaurs stand tall possessing grace and dignity and will stand by their allies till the very end…

  High mountains surrounded the centaur village; two mountains on each side reached high in the sky and at the top curved inward. The main gate was high as well and built out of grey stone, with a bronze door in the center.

  “Mabruk you say?” asked the warrior centaur guard. “One moment then.” The centaur vanished behind the stone wall.

  “Who is Mabruk?” asked Elora curiously.

  “He is…was my father…” Alexandros answered with sorrow. He stared at the rocky road until he heard the loud unlocking sound of the centaur’s bronze gate.

  “Welcome to Ezadcir, Mabruk. Tobias will greet you in a moment,” said the centaur warrior as he allowed them into the village.

  Alexandros was in awe—high hills and luscious greens fields surrounded them. On the hills were tall stone houses with pointed rooftops. The village itself was massive; the two mountains on each side of the village seemed so close from the outside, but once inside appeared extremely far apart. Hundreds of centaurs roamed around; the men worked the fields, the women doing the house chores, and the children playing along the fields as the men worked. In some way the centaur village reminded Alexandros of his own village, and just the thought of it made him want to cry in anger for what the goblins had stolen from him.

  Alexandros and Elora stood inside waiting at the main gate, and although he had lied claiming he was his father, he did not want to risk being exposed before seeing the centaur king Tobias. Alexandros had never been to Ezadcir, and even though his father Mabruk was welcomed in the village, it did not mean he would be so kindly welcomed so soon or at all. Elora stood close by Alexandros’ side while they waited for Tobias; this was her first time ever far away from her castle grounds, she was terribly frightened being thrown into the world in such a harsh manner.

  “You are not Mabruk…” a voice said. Alexandros looked up to see Tobias approaching them.

  Tobias the centaur king was tall at seven feet. He had long white hair tied up behind his head. His upper body was toned; he had deep brown eyes and thin lips. A long scar starting from the side of his forehead reached down to his chin. Tobias was not an old centaur, around the age of fifty or fifty-five. The horse half of him was a deep black; his tail was grey like the hair on his head, with grey hair around his hooves.

  “You are not Mabruk.”

  His voice was somewhat angry and disappointed for he wished it truly was his good friend Mabruk standing before him.

  “I am sorry; I had to claim that I was to enter your village,” said Alexandros. “I am his son Belen, and this is the Princess Elora of Siruac.”

  “Belen, my boy! You would have been more than welcomed to enter—you and of course your royal friend,” Tobias said with excitement. “How is your father Mabruk? It has been about four winters without seeing him…”

  Alexandros lowered his head; Elora placed her hand on his shoulder.

  “My father and mother were murdered, Tobias. I am not certain how, but the goblins have escaped from their underground prison…they invaded my village…destroying everyone and everything. I came because I know you know where the goblin lands are…and I need you to tell me.”

  A cold look of despair filled Tobias’ face. “I am deeply sorry for your loss, Belen. Your father was truly a great man and warrior. He was my best friend for many years, and it truly saddens me to hear his life was taken from him by the very monsters we thought to be defeated so many winters ago. Vengeance must fill your heart right now, and because Mabruk was a dear friend and for his honor, I will help you.”

  Just then a loud banging came from the other side of the bronze door. The warrior centaur who had let Alexandros and Elora into the kingdom drew his sword.

  “By the gods,” he said with an annoyed voice. “Tobias, my king, it’s that blasted merchant again.”

  Tobias covered his face with both hands. “There is no time for his foolishness right now; get him out of here.”

  “Very well, sir.
”

  The warrior centaur kicked open the door and chased the merchant down the rocky dirt road; despite his older age, the merchant flew down the road as if he were the wind.

  The merchant jokingly yelled at the warrior centaur, “What is the matter, not quick enough with those cheap horse shoes?” Only angering the centaur more, causing the centaur to run faster. The merchant and the centaur ran until they were not seen anymore.

  “What on earth was that about? Why would they chase that kind old man down the road?” Elora asked.

  “My lady, that blasted merchant sold my people extremely cheap horse shoes; it caused some to have permanent injury.”

  “Oh, dear…” She said to herself.

  “Let us not waste time or our energy on him anymore and return ourselves to more important matters,” said Tobias. “Goblins…they never work alone; they are stupid pitiful creatures with little brains. They are cowards as well, and they live in the lands of Heshuezo. If you travel there you will surely find them. Your journey will be one that is not easy; you will need all the help you can receive. Please allow my son to join you, Belen. He is an amazing young warrior, and he shall not get in your way.”

  Alexandros agreed to this simple request. One man against an army of goblins would be suicide, not to mention if it was indeed true that the goblins had a secret ally, Alexandros would need all the help he could find. Tobias sent for his son.

  “Belen,” said Tobias. “My son is about your age now and is great in battle; you will do well together on your quest.”

  Princess Elora gasped as the incredibly handsome young centaur approached them.

  “This is my son…Raphael,” Tobias said with delight.

  Raphael stood gracefully in front of them. He was as tall as his father; his skin was beautifully tanned; he had long black hair tied up in a ponytail, and his chest was perfectly chiseled; His eyes were clear light green; he had full lips with a strong chin. The horse half was dark brown, and his tail black like his hair.

  “Raphael, this is Belen, son of the great Mabruk,” said Tobias. “I need you to travel with him to Heshuezo; together the two of you will protect one another.”

  “Very well father, I will not fail you,” Raphael said to Tobias without question. “But who is this precious young beauty?” Raphael asked as he stepped toward the Princess Elora. He took her hand and gently kissed it. “I am Raphael. What might your name be?”

  Alexandros stepped in front of Elora, and before she could answer, he said, “She is the Princess Elora of Siruac, and she does not need man nor centaur throwing themselves at her.”

  A loud booming laugh came from Tobias. “You two will get along just fine.” He handed his son a sword with a gold trim around the handle and a large round gold shield to match. Raphael’s muscles flexed as he held them. “Now the three of you watch out for each other, for on the road you are all you have…and I shall see you again soon.”

  “Tobias,” Alexandros said as he shook Tobias’ hand. “I thank you for your help and kindness. My father thought highly of you, and now I do, too.”

  “I am much honored to have met you, Belen…now go while the sun is still in the sky; this journey will not be a short one.”

  Alexandros, Princess Elora, and the centaur Raphael bade them farewell and exited the centaur village Ezadcir.

  The three traveled many miles down the road heading to Heshuezo, land of the goblins. With Raphael as their scout, they wished to make it passed the centaur lands before dark.

  “I will scout on ahead to assure its safe for you to pass, my lady,” said Raphael and raced off.

  “This centaur is unbelievable,” said Alexandros.

  “Do not be so hard on him, Belen, he only wishes to prove himself worthy to his father,” said Elora said defending Raphael.

  At that moment Raphael returned. “There is a bridge at the canyon up ahead. Once we cross it we pass the centaur area and into our neighboring village.”

  Alexandros, Elora, and Raphael soon reached the old flimsy bridge at the canyon. The afternoon sun was beginning to set, and the woods surrounding the road ended at the canyon. At the bottom of the canyon was a blue, rapidly flowing river.

  “Careful as you cross. This bridge seems extremely old and parts may even be rotted out,” Alexandros warned Elora.

  As they began to cross, five dirty thieves in grey peasant rags stormed out of the forest.

  “It is twenty dinars to cross over the bridge!” they cried. “And if you pay us no harm will befall you travelers; choose not to and we shall have to teach the three of you a hard lesson.”

  One drunken thief fought hard to stand straight up.

  “If you leave now, no harm shall befall on you; choose to attack us and suffer greatly,” said Alexandros.

  An old toothless thief pulled at Princess Elora’s gown. “You look rather tasty, my dear…” he said; his breath smelled of ale.

  Alexandros stepped in front of Elora and pie-faced the dirty old thief, causing him to fall back hard on his back.

  “Princess…we shall meet you on the other side of the canyon,” Alexandros told her firmly. The princess turned and ran cautiously across the old flimsy bridge.

  Alexandros and Raphael then stepped in front of the bridge, blocking the path from the thieves.

  “One last time…leave now,” Raphael demanded.

  The toothless thief wobbled back up to his feet and charged at Alexandros, with a thunderous punch. Alexandros struck the thief in the face knocking his three remaining teeth out. Alexandros then grabbed him by the throat, turned towards the canyon, and, with a swift powerful kick, knocked the thief off the edge sending him falling to his death. Another ragged thief yanked on Alexandros’ arm. Raphael leaped forward and hacked his arm clean off. Screaming in agony, the thief held on to his shoulder, which now had a gaping hole. Bleeding badly he fell to the ground shaking. The three remaining thieves grabbed their wounded friend and took off cowardly down the road. Alexandros picked up the severed arm and tossed it down the canyon.

  Raphael then crossed the flimsy bridge, followed by Alexandros. The sun had now completely set when they reached the opposite side of the canyon. Elora approached them when they reached the land.

  “Did they listen to reason, Belen?” she asked nervously.

  “…of course, my lady.”

  “Not only that, but they also gave us a helping hand as well,” added Raphael with a chuckle.

  Alexandros smirked. “Let’s go. The village cannot be far now.”

  The walk to the village took much longer than they had realized, so Raphael placed the princess on his back and allowed her to ride side-saddled the rest of the way, which allowed the group travel faster.

  “Thank you for allowing me to ride.”

  “Problem at all, my lady,” Raphael said. “So may I ask, how did you meet Belen Alexandros?”

  “Belen…saved my life, centaur prince. He helped me when no one else would. I escaped from my kingdom lost for many days, and no one would stop and help…until I met Belen.”

  Raphael smiled as he saw the passionate look on her face as she gazed at Alexandros. “Hmm, I see…”

  With the moon high in the sky, they made their way down a dark wooded road. Alexandros could not escape the thoughts of his village and family. The sorrow-filled thoughts made him want to seek revenge even more.

  “I’m going to kill them all,” he thought, “every last one of those demon goblins.”

  “Look,” Raphael said pointing towards an orange light.

  “Torches,” Elora added softly.

  The villagers of BueHoov were friendly towards the centaurs. Many years ago a warlord had wished to reduce the villagers to slaves, but the centaurs stepped forward and protected the villagers. The Centaurs fought off the warlord and his dreadful army. As a “thank you,” the people of the village named the village BueHoov in honor of the centaurs.

  Hard rain began to fall as Ralphael, Elora, and Alexandr
os entered the village. Alexandros helped Elora off of Raphael’s back, and they walked quickly into the BueHoov tavern. They burst in to find a large number of dwarves drinking and having a great old time.

  “Welcome strangers!” cried the dwarves.

  CHAPTER IV

  BUEHOOV

  THE TYPICAL DWARF is short in nature, long bearded, and skilled at mining and metallurgy. A dwarf is often depicted as having a low affinity for most magical abilities or a resistance to magic. Dwarves are known best for their tempers, if made extremely angry they can unleash a force like no other.

  The tavern was large and square and made of thick strong wood, which had the scent of the most powerful liquor. The bar was filled with about a dozen or so dwarves. Large round wooden tables and chairs were thrown around, and the dwarves drank and danced

  “Please help!” a voice said through the heavy noise of the dwarves. A teenaged boy ran towards the group. He was tall and lanky; he had short blonde hair and was dressed in peasant clothes. His clothes were covered with food and drinks. The dwarves were tossing things at him every time he asked them to leave.

  “What on earth is going on here?” Alexandros shouted over the noise.

  “They came, drank and will not leave. Please help me get them out before my father returns,” said the teen in a panic.

  Raphael, wanting to prove his intimidating strength to the dwarves, stomped his front hooves.

  “Silence!” he cried.

  The dwarves placed their drinks down and looked up at the centaur prince.

  “Why are you here?” Raphael demanded.

  The dwarves drunkenly stumbled and fell around the tavern. “Shut up centaur, and pull up a chair if you can find one.”

  “They are here to kill the evil Dragon that has been causing trouble,” the young boy answered, looking toward Raphael.

  Alexandros turned to Elora. “My lady, we will find another…” Before he could finish, he found the princess sitting with a dwarf, drinking.