“No! This is not a group choice. We are going to Heshuezo, and that is final!”
“And who has made you leader?” Bixbin cut in. “Before yesterday we all made choices together or choices that suited the mission at hand.”
“Shut your mouth, dwarf,” said Alexandros harshly. “You have not a clue as to what is going on half the time. You like the elf are here for who knows truly. You tagged along because you had nowhere else to go.”
Bixbin clenched his hammer. Alistair stepped in between them.
“Do not be a coward, Belen,” Alistair said.
The mere mention of the word sent rage into Alexandros. Raphael held Alexandros by his arm holding him back from Alistair.
“You wish to mention being a coward, Alistair? If anyone here is a coward it is you. You allowed Barbarious to murder Tobias and break the princess’ legs. You stood there and did nothing! You hid behind me when I stepped in front of you. And if I have learned anything from you, it has to be that you are afraid of Barbarious. The way I see it, you will forever be that cowardly old merchant who lived in the centaur forest.”
Silence filled the road; no one said a word. Alexandros pulled his arm away from Raphael.
“Is there anyone else before me who agrees with the wizard here?”
No one replied.
“You are all snakes…each and everyone one of you. Fine…I shall go alone then…I shall not forget this.”
Alexandros stormed off down the road.
“Do not leave…” Winston said as he half glided and half walked toward Alexandros. “You promised to be my friend, please do not do this…do not go…please… Belen…”
Alexandros ignored Winston and walked off leaving Winston standing alone.
Alistair, Elora, Bixbin, Winston, Raphael, and Valchor watched him walk away. Winston stood sitting on the rocky dirt road, holding back the tears. Elora wrapped her arms around him for comfort.
“Well…does this mean the journey is over?” Valchor asked as he looked around to everyone. “Because my father will not be happy to see me so soon.”
“Well, I cannot imagine anyone who would be happy to see you after just getting rid of you,” said Bixbin.
“Let us set up camp here. Tomorrow morning we shall all decide on what to do,” said Alistair.
Nightfall…
The night came quickly near the valley as Alexandros approached the Heshuezion Mountains. The sun seemed to set faster than usual. He stopped to make a small campfire for himself alongside the road near an eerie dead tree; the only tree for several miles in the area. He seethed with anger. He sat back against the tree and glared into the small crackling fire—the only sound for miles.
How could they all agree with Alistair? Of course, he was wrong. I am fully focused.
Alexandros poked the flames a few times with a long thin branch to keep it burning—and as he did, he felt a mighty blow to the back of his head, sending him crashing hard to the ground. His vision became blurry—but he saw the shape of a dark figure standing over him as he fell unconscious.
When he awoke, a cloaked figured sat at the campfire staring at him. He wore a black dirty old cloak with a hood that exposed very little of his body and face; his hands were filthy, and he was barefoot. While tied to the branchless tree Alexandros sat squirming, trying to loosen the ropes.
“Do not struggle; the ropes will not untie themselves,” the man said in a deep hoarse voice.
“Why have me captive!” Alexandros shouted at the cloaked figured man. “I am no threat to you! Release me now!” The cloaked figure tightly wrapped the rope around Alexandros, which held him to a tree. The cloaked figure had disarmed Alexandros and tossed his weapons in a pile near the campfire.
“Why will you not answer me?”
“You will be fine,” the cloaked figure said in a deep hoarse voice. “What I do, I do for your own good; nothing rewarding can come from the place you wish to go…I shall release you once they have moved on from those mountains.” The cloaked figure crouched by the campfire that burned bright before them. “I have seen what those beasts are capable of… you would be foolish bursting in like a headstrong boar.”
“I will rip your head off and feed it to the wolves if I miss this opportunity,” said Alexandros.
The cloaked figure turned slowly to look Alexandros in the eye. “Well, just try and escape then, my friend…”
“Who are you? Tell me! Who are you?”
“I am…the grave keeper,” the cloaked figure whispered. “My crypt is not too far from here. I shall keep you until they move on from Heshuezo.”
Alexandros tried to break free, but the grave keeper simply tightened the rope. He smacked Alexandros across the face for trying to escape. Alexandros clenched his fists.
“Now listen to me, my friend,” said the grave keeper. “Where you are off to is a place no man should ever step foot on. No good can come of it, and you would surely die.”
“You have no clue what you say stranger; you do not know anything about me. You have no right passing judgment over me.”
“I am trying to open your eyes, you foolish traveler, but you seem to be extremely hard-headed. You, young warriors and your blood lust…so blind it is truly sad.”
Alexandros rolled his eyes. The grave keeper lifted a small black traveling bag from behind the flames and pulled out shining silver dagger. He heated the blade over the fire.
“Well…” said the grave keeper. “It seems I am going to have to cut the blindness from your eyes.”
Alexandros fought hard to escape; the grave keeper pushed back the young warrior’s head and proceeded with trying to cut out one of his eyes.
Alexandros swiftly kicked the grave keeper in the chest sending him crashing onto the campfire. Alexandros then reached with his foot for the silver dagger, which had fallen to the ground. The grave keeper thrashed about as he tried to put out the fire that took over his cloak. Alexandros kicked the dagger into his reach picked it up and cut the rope. The rope snapped. He jumped to his feet, ran to the grave keeper, and began to stomp on him repeatedly, releasing a month’s frustration on the cloaked grave keeper. For several minutes Alexandros repeatedly stomped on the grave keeper until finally Alexandros stopped and fell to the ground, he stared at the grave keeper who could barely move.
“I am going to thank you right now…you have opened my eyes to something. I cannot do this on my own,” Alexandros said, stepping back, completely out of breath and left the bloody beaten grave keeper on the ground. The grave keeper’s cloak had been beaten off of him revealing his battered face. He was bald; his eyes were round and dark…and he barely looked human, being incredibly pale and filthy.
Alexandros gathered his weapons and made his way back to the road, glancing first toward Heshuezo, and then he turned to head back to his travel companions. He heard the moans from the grave keeper in the distance. Suddenly, the grave keeper jumped onto Alexandros’ back and began striking him in the face. Alexandros tossed the grave keeper off of his back, and the grave keeper kicked Alexandros in the midsection, laughing insanely as he swung his dagger. Alexandros grabbed the grave keeper’s hand and broke his wrist. The dagger dropped to the ground, and the grave keeper shouted in pain—but he refused to stay away, even after being badly beaten and having a broken wrist. He charged again at Alexandros. Alexandros lifted the dagger from the ground and with all his might launchedimpaled the dagger in the grave keeper’s face, sending him hurtling backwards, killing him instantly. Alexandros left the body sprawled out on the barren road that led to the mountains of Heshuezo.
By dawn Alexandros had reached Alistair and the others. Slowly he walked to them, not knowing whether or not they would want to hear what he had to say. The group stood silent as he approached. His face showed how sorry he was. Breaking the silence, Elora brushed the hair from his face so she could look into his light blue eyes…and she smacked him. Shocked filled the faces of everyone there, not a soul thought Elora would
ever be so mad at Alexandros. Elora’s eyes then filled with tears—but before he could apologize, she silenced him.
“Before you say anything to any of us, Belen…speak with him first…” She pointed to Winston who sat alone looking off toward the hills. Alexandros slowly moved passed everyone. He walked up to Winston and sat beside him.
“Forgive me my friend,” Alexandros said to sorrowfully to Winston. “…I lost myself for a moment and the weight of my journey had taken over me.”
“I knew you would not abandon us…” said Winston, smiling. “I knew you were my friend…I knew you were still my friend…right?”
Alexandros smiled in return and softly said, “Of course, I am. It is what you deserve, remember.”
CHAPTER XVII
OVUNAS
LYCAN, WEREWOLF, JUST two names for the beasts that had forsaken the woods of the village Ovunas. The fear of werewolves is nightmarish; their attacks are so frequent and atrocious that the villagers fear to travel from one place to another. Every morning for years, villagers found the half-eaten carcasses of their animals scattered among the road. Rumors persist that some of the lycans that dwell in their forests are so old they have lost the ability to revert back to human form; those lycans rarely show themselves, but yet there are those rare glimpses…”
An eerie grey fog rolled in from the woods that surrounded the long dreary road. The sound of howling wolves consumed the area. The full moon was high in the sky, and a lonely traveler quickly paced himself as he herded his sheep to his small farmhouse just past the Ovunas forest. The people of Ovunas pleaded and warned him to travel during the day for, although it was still not all that safe, it was safer than moving about at night. The elderly traveler held his lantern high to see through the fog; his shaking hand caused the lantern to rattle. The trees rustled as he slowly walked, branches on the ground could be heard snapping, and a cold sweat ran down his forehead. The sheep were skittish, jumping to just about any sound they heard—until they panicked and fled in every direction. The elderly traveler could almost see the shape of what looked like an extremely large dog slowly crawling out of the dead forest. In a panic the elderly traveler started to run down the old road toward his farm… in the distance he could see the form of what he knew was his shelter—but he never made it to his farm. He, along with his sheep, vanished in the night…his family never saw him again.
Disturbing solitude filled the road to Ovunas. Dead trees stretched out over the road, and their thick skeletal-like branches covered the sky. For most of the days in the area it rained incredibly hard. The sky was cloudy and the road gloomy; the straight narrow road was rarely walked on. The seldom-visited Ovunas village was located not too far away from Heshuezo. Not even the goblins dare ventured to the village for they, too, were very much afraid of what lurked in the woods.
Alexandros led the group down the road with Elora at his side. Although she had not fully forgiven him, she still felt safe in his presence. Winston also stood close—which was odd. Winston generally preferred lagging behind. Winston’s nerves had gotten the best of him, however; he walked on all fours and glanced every now and then at the thin branches that hovered over the road. No one really spoke as they traveled; they were tired, hungry, and a bit sick of each other. Heavier clouds rolled in; the sky began to darken; the air around them began to become damp. Finally, from a distance, Raphael caught a glimpse of a sign that read “Ovunas, the Great Mountain Village.”
Raphael’s depression had gone from bad to worse; he barely spoke or ate. His eyes lost almost all emotion, and he walked with a small slouch.
As they passed the wooden sign the smell of death took consumed them.
This was a mistake, Alexandros thought, but they had walked too far down the road to turn back now. Going back would make no sense, and, with night-fall approaching a lot sooner than expected, one night at the village inn would not do any harm. As they approached closer to Ovunas, they could see wolves’ bane nailed to trees with rusted bent nails. Snapping branches and rustling were heard in the forest that surrounds the road. All eyes looked from side to side, weary of what could be making the sounds. A loud wolf’s howl then filled the air.
“Belen…” Elora said in a nervous whisper.
Keeping their quick pace down the road, they reached Ovunas just as the sun had begun to set. The forest path led to the village, which was built against an oval-shaped mountain. The mountains surrounded the village with high un-climbable rocky walls. The village was large; a stream of water stood in between the mountain wall and the village. Fishermen from the village fished and retrieved their drinking water from the mountain springs. Every home, scattered around the village to create a triangular shape, was built of stone. A high watchtower stood in the center of the village facing the forest. A lone watchman remained on the lookout all night until dawn—but that evening no one watched over the village. The village was messy with personal items tossed around everywhere, torches lit and placed outside of homes.
Alexandros cautiously led them into the village. Not a soul wandered about, which was strange, for this was the one day that it had not rained in the area in about four days.
“Do you have a death wish?” a voice asked.
An old haggard woman stood outside her home. Her home was the very first house on the left of the forest entrance. She had crazy wild gray hair that almost stood straight up and was thin with a long face. Her nose was long and pointed with big round hazel eyes to match. She wore a baggy brown dress torn up at the bottom and was barefoot. Her left eye twitched as she spoke.
“Get yourselves in here at once, the sun is setting,” she said as she pulled Alistair by the arm to enter her home.
“I am very sorry, but we need to find the inn…” Alistair said, pulling his arm away.
“Well, then, you came to the right place. She said as she stood directly in front of Alistair, she stood on the tip of her toes to look him in the eye. “I am the innkeeper,” she said with a crazy smile as her left eye twitched.
“This has to be a most cruel joke,” Valchor said, condescendingly. “This crazy old bat is the innkeeper? I shall not spend one moment in her poorly constructed home.”
A few moments later Valchor was sitting in the corner of the woman’s home, sulking and complaining to himself. Her home was wide and shaped like a hexagon with many large windows, two of which faced the center of the village and four in the back of the house. Her home was stifling; all the windows were closed and boarded up with thick pieces of wood. An assortment of junk cluttered the place, but the only furniture was an unusually long table with chairs that wobbled when sat upon. The steps that led to the second floor of the inn were also cluttered with junk, which did not matter much because not a soul ever really stayed in her inn. Once the sun set she pushed everyone inside and away from the door. She walked quickly towards a small lantern on the table and lowered the flame.
She then quickly walked to the first window and peaked outside through a tiny peephole that was carved into the wood that boarded up the window.
“Why on earth are you in such a panic, old woman?” asked Alexandors. “What is troubling you out there?”
“Hush! Hush! Hush!” She answered in a trembled whisper, shaking her fist. “They are here…”
Alistair looked through the peephole himself. Massive ferocious beasts were swarming the village; they ransacked the things left outside and clawed at one or two homes that did not have wolves’ bane on the doors. The beasts reached nearly seven feet tall standing on their hind legs; they had thick dark brown fur and long snouts. They walked on all fours and were incredibly fast for their size and weight. They had some human qualities to them but were mostly beast-like.
The old woman stood back with her wrinkled hand covering her mouth. “Mustn’t make noise…no, no, no…they hear everything.”
“What is out there, Alistair?” Alexandros asked, whispering.
Alistair slowly opened the door. The old woman l
eaped forward to him in a frantic panic trying to stop him, but Alexandros held her back. Elora rushed outside to find Alistair and what she saw startled her. The wizard began to illuminate with a mystical white aura. His eyes became vacant and white as he chanted under his breath.
“Dumious luminous clado…”
Alistair slowly gazed up, just as the beasts noticed his presence, and engulfed the village with the bright blinding light. The light blinded and burned the monsters. The monsters shrieked and howled as they took off into the forest.
Alistair returned to his normal self. The white aura slowly faded, entering back into his body as he fell to his knees, weakened; Elora helped him to his feet.
The old woman, whose name was Gertrude, explained what had been going on in her village.
“They have been invading the village every night for the last twenty winters or so…they came from out of nowhere one evening. The moon was full when they arrived, which is when they are at their most ferocious and powerful. My mother was outside that night with my father. She had stepped out to help him bring in the fish he caught throughout the day. I was getting settled into my adult age, but my parents were so very full of life and happiness. Then the howls were heard and the screams began. As I stepped outside my home to see what was happening I was knocked back inside by a most powerful blow to the face and did not wake until the sun had risen… that night I lost my parents, and our nightmare began. They ripped through the village like a wild storm. The next night we boarded up the windows, and it has been that way ever since…”
“Why not leave then?” Alexandros asked. “During the day, it should be safe enough.”
“Young man, we have tried. Many who venture barely escape, and now with my old age, I will not make it far…I shall die in this village,” she said sadly.
The Legend of Alexandros: Belen Page 11
