The Legend of Alexandros: Belen

by Mr. A. C. Hernandez

  “We should find a place to rest for the remainder of the day…” said Alistair to Alexandros.

  “No. The sun is far from setting, we can still carry on for miles before we need to stop.”

  “You do not understand…”

  “What has gotten into you? You seem to be worried.”

  “I feel we should really not continue on, Belen.”

  “But why, Alistair? What are you not saying?”

  “Nothing. I just think we have walked enough today.”

  “We still have much of these mountains to cross. I say we go on until at least a little after sundown.”

  “Belen…you do not understand…” Alistair replied. He glanced nervously at the sky.

  “…so, tell me, what do I not understand.”

  “Very well. We can continue on.”

  The sound of a most powerful waterfall was heard from the canyon below them. The water crashed ferociously from an opening in the mountain. Jagged sharp rocks protruded out of the falling water. The water at the bottom, surrounded by a small wooded area, oddly remained calm. A long dead tree stretched over the water, almost like a bridge. One by one they climbed carefully down the canyon. The sun shone down through the woods, hitting the water; the cool water from the waterfall glistened through the air. Alexandros reached the bottom first. The lycans leaped off the top of the canyon landing hard on their paws, Maddoc looked Alexandros up and down with arrogance as the Lycans walked off into the forest. Raphael had a difficult time descending the canyon; he slipped numerous times trying to place his hooves on sturdy-enough boulders, but managed to make it safely to the bottom. Valchor gracefully descended by hopping off of the boulders, and Winston placed Elora and Bixbin onto his back and held Alistair as he glided down. Dusk had approached by the time the entire group made it to the bottom, and Alistair rushed them into the woods. Valchor built another small fire in a small clearing.

  “Tomorrow should be our final day crossing the mountains,” Alistair said, picking an apple from a nearby tree. “We have made it past the main mountain area so it should be rather quick from here on.”

  Everyone ate numerous apples and packed many away as well. It had been about an entire day since they had eaten, and the apples made a most delicious meal. Winston flew up to the very treetop and picked the freshest apples for himself. He placed them in a pile by the fire and flew up for more.

  “Alexandros,” said Valchor. “Your Dragon is the greediest creature I have ever seen. His pile is taller than Bixbin.” Valchor said with a laugh.

  Bixbin threw a half-eaten apple at Valchor—just missing him.

  Raphael sat alone with his legs curled underneath him away from the fire, sharpening his sword.

  “You are always to yourself, centaur,” said Valchor. “Why do you not speak up more like your companions? I know more of them than I know of you.”

  “Are you trying to figure me out…after all this time?” asked Raphael.

  “You can say that. So why are you not more talkative?”

  “My father is dead. My people are still somewhere near the marshlands, and a dark wizard wishes to rule all with the Earth’s most powerful staff…so I am far from in the chatting mood.”

  “Would your father want you to be this bitter toward all?”

  Alexandros stood listening to the singing voice of the woman; her voice ran through his ears and filled his body with peace. Alistair pulled him gently by his arm to lead him back to the campfire.

  “Listen to it…” Alexandros said, closing his eyes. “I know you can hear it. You have been listening to it for as long as I have…”

  “I do not know what you speak of…” Alistair replied.

  “Do not lie to me… the mere sound of the voice has put you in a panic. Now tell me what is out there.” Alexandros said sternly at Alistair. Alistair took in a deep breath and glanced over Alexandros’ shoulder to the waterfall.

  “It is a harpy…” Alistair confessed. “I wished to have moved passed these mountains before any of you would notice her.”

  “Why not tell us? We have been roaming these mountains for two days listening to her song for just as long as you have. You should have told us, Alistair.” Alexandros shook Alistair by the arms.

  “Release me, Belen! I was trying to protect you and the others.”

  “You placed us in danger. You cannot tell us what only you wish for us to know and keep us in the dark about everything else. From now on, Alistair, you are not to keep me in the dark about anything. Am I understood?”

  He walked off leaving Alistair standing alone.

  Alexandros soon sat by the fire, wondering what to do about the harpy. Should they should kill it or pass through quickly to avoid it?

  “What was that about?” Elora asked.

  “Alistair has not been as truthful as he would like us to believe.”

  “Is this about the harpy?” asked Valchor.

  “You knew about this creature?”

  “Yes. The moment I heard her song I knew it was a harpy. But do not worry; her song will not work on me.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Night elves have some immunity to certain magics and charms. Just like when we were at the lagoon. It is a gift that we bare.” He tossed the apple core into the fire then sat back against the apple tree.

  “Did it ever occur to you that we would need to know if a harpy was trailing us?”

  “I was, honestly. But the wizard said not to mention her. He said he would take care of her soon.”

  Alexandros stood stunned for a brief moment; he then turned and ran to where he left Alistair. The wizard was gone, and the harpy’s song could no longer be heard. Markings on the ground indicated a struggle.

  “Where would a harpy bring her pray, Valchor?” Alexandros asked.

  “It could be a number of places; these are her mountains. The harpy knows every inch of this area.”

  “How are we to find Alistair?” asked Elora.

  As he opened his eyes, Alistair saw the waterfall crashing down. He could not feel the ground below him, and he felt a tight pressure around his ankles and blood rushing to his head. He was hanging upside down. The harpy had taken him into her cave inside the waterfall. The smell of rotten flesh permeated the air, and the faint sound of flapping could be heard. Alistair squirmed to free himself.

  “Do not struggle… it will make things much worse for yourself,” a deep and masculine voice whispered.

  “Show yourself!” Alistair demanded, scanning the darkened cave.

  The harpy swooped down. She stood about seven feet tall with the body of a falcon and the head of a woman; her feathers where beige with black strips. Her face was haggard and wrinkled with a mouth full of razor-sharp rotten teeth; her eyes were grey, and she had thin black hair. Her talons were sharp and curved inward. She hopped around Alistair, sniffing and poking at him with her right wing. She had a most disgusting foul smell, and her feathers were incredibly filthy.

  “You look most delicious. I cannot wait to feast on your flesh and chew on the bones,” the harpy said telepathically to Alistair, flapping her wings wildly.

  “You are making a grave decision,” Alistair warned. “Release me and no harm shall befall you. I am not alone. My companions are surely searching for me.”

  “How grand! More tasty travelers for me. How are they to find you? None of them saw me snatch you.”

  “That is why I am sending them a signal.”

  Alistair blasted a magnificently bright ball of light into the air. The harpy crashed to the ground blinded by the light; she thrashed around while Alistair tried freeing himself.

  “Insect!”

  The harpy violently beat Alistair with her powerful wings.

  “You will now die a most slow agonizing death!. You have no one. When you are dead not a soul shall mourn you; you cannot even escape by yourself even though you clearly have magic coursing through you.”

  The harpy lunged forward and b
it into Alistair’s midsection, her rotten teeth sinking into him deeply. Her mighty talons yanked Alistair viciously to the ground.

  “Stop! Stop! Gahhhh!” Alistair cried out in pain. Alistair squirmed trying to release her grip but it only made the Harpy bite down harder.

  “Oh…my…you are the most delicious creature I have ever tasted… oh, oh, I shall savior this for all times to come…”

  “This is your final meal, wench!” cried Alexandros launching a dagger into the harpy’s back.

  The harpy lunged toward him, only to receive a powerful kick to the face that sent her to the ground. The harpy rose up quickly and batted her wings causing a powerful gust. Alexandros used his sword to pierce the harpy’s wing. Her screech silenced the crashing waterfall.

  “Alistair! Go, now!” cried Alexandros, but Alistair remained still, bleeding profusely onto the ground.

  The harpy charged towards Alexandros at full speed. Alexandros turned quickly and jammed his sword into her mid-section, he pulled upwards, and split the creature in half.

  Alexandros placed Alistair gently by the fire. Elora rushed over to assist Alexandros and brought fresh water they had collected earlier.

  “Belen…is he all right?” Elora asked nervously. “He is not moving…”

  “Where is the Harpy?” Valchor asked as he helped treat Alistair’s wound.

  “I killed her,” Alexandros replied coldly.

  “…that is a pleasure to hear,” said Valchor.

  “Enough about the blasted harpy,” said Elora. “What of Alistair?”

  “He is dying.” said Alexandros, pressing on Alistair’s wound to stop the bleeding. “I do not think there is much else we can do for him…”

  “Wait,” said Elora. “There is a way. Winston! Please you must help us. You must help Alistair.”

  “Of course, I will help…does he need apples?” Winston replied innocently.

  “My word, Dragon!” cried Valchor. “The wizard is going to die. Can you help him?”

  “How am I going to help? I do not know what to do…I do not want Alistair to die…” Winston began to cry. Elora cupped her hands under his eyes and scooped up his tears. She sprinkled the tears on the wizard’s wound.

  The group watched on in sorrow—until they saw his wound begin to heal. Alistair lay on the ground, slowly blinking his eyes.

  “Where is the harpy…?” he asked faintly.

  “Alexandros butchered her,” said Valchor.

  “You saw my signal then…?”

  “It blinded me as I was climbing the mountain near the waterfall. I rushed over as quickly as I could,” said Alexandros and looked at the crowd. “I need a moment with Alistair.”

  Elora comforted Winston, who was still crying. Everyone else then carried on to what they were doing before the panic began.

  “Before you begin, Belen,” said Alistair. “You do not need to apologize. I owe one to you.”

  “I was not going to give you one. Just that you were very foolish for attempting to face the harpy alone…but yet it was brave of you as well. Just do not make a habit of brave acts such as these.”

  Winston slowly inched his way toward Alexandros and Alistair. He gently rolled an apple along the ground to Alistair.

  “Are you dead…?” Winston asked.

  “No, Winston, I am not dead.” Alistair replied with a small laugh.

  “This apple is for you.”

  “Thank you very much, Winston. That is very kind of you…”

  Alexandros did not sleep that night; instead, he kept watch, always thinking he would hear the harpy’s song. The night went on without a sound from the harpy, and when the sun had finally risen it brought along a new and refreshing feeling; they were no longer being hunted and they could now pass through with ease. Alexandros thought of all the travelers who lost their lives passing through these mountains. The harpy’s den had been covered with the bones of hundreds of living beings.

  The day went on as usual, and everyone but the lycans kept close. After hours of walking nonstop, they reached a long wooden bridge built over a rapid flowing creek; on the other side was a clearing from the mountains with green pastures on all sides. Alexandros crossed the bridge last and was startled for a moment, stopping completely…he heard the song of the harpy coming from the mountains. He turned to re-cross the bridge, but Valchor grabbed his arm.

  “This is a fight no man can win…” said the elf. “Leave it be. We are passed the mountains; they will not follow us from this point.”

  “What do you mean, they? I faced only one harpy last night.”

  “Yes. The harpy you faced is dead and gone…but what you hear is the song of…her sisters. Are you coming?”

  “Of course,” said Alexandors. “I am right behind you…”

  CHAPTER XXI

  DREAM WALKER

  Monstrous flying vampires landed hard against the crumbling towers of Siruac. They dug their claws deep into the tower stones. Dark clouds covered the sky as rain fell over the withered land. The castle’s walls and rooftops leaked, causing the dungeon to flood. The very tunnel Princess Elora once escaped through was now underwater. The goblins forged shelters to keep away from the pounding rain. They used stones from the castle to build the shelters and remained hidden in them for most days, instead of searching for the staff that Barbarious wanted them to find. During the night, the vampires fed off the goblins, draining them of every ounce of their blood, although the vampires would have preferred a tastier and more rewarding meal, like a delicious mountain troll. William the vampire king remained in the throne room with Barbarious. For two days they tolerated one another, and the tension heightened the longer they remained in the same room—each refused to surrender the king’s throne.

  “Your goblin allies are pathetic,” said William. “If not for my help and the strength of my children, the son of Mabruk would surely have burst in here and taken back Siruac. You should be most grateful I decided on assisting you…Barbarious.”

  The dark wizard peered out of the shattered balcony window. His cold and haunting demeanor made the bravest of men shiver in fear. A fire-filled rage consumed him as he watched as the goblins sitting idle.

  “Zuers!” Barbarious shouted.

  Zuers and Jasmine entered the throne room with arrogant strides.

  “Why are those lower-being creatures simply resting all throughout the day and not searching for the staff?”

  “What would you have me tell them,” Zuers replied.

  “I WANT THE STAFF FOUND!…NOW!” Barbarious screamed, shattering the remaining glass in the balcony windows. Rain showered in, and the hazy mist that covered the floor in the throne room slowly seeped out.

  “Yes, Barbarious…right away,” Zuers said, bowing his head as he backed out of the throne room. Jasmine left in a different direction, hoping to find the staff herself to prove her true allegiance to Barbarious.

  Barbarious created small balls of fire in his hand and hurled them down toward the goblins. The fireballs missed them, but destroyed their shelters.

  “If you are done slaughtering your only help, I may have a small suggestion,” said William. “Why not have the King of Siruac tell you? I am more than positive you have already interrogated him for the answer…”

  “Indeed.” Barbarious smiled horrendously. “Have the goblins bring me our dear King Vincent…”

  The goblins rushed down into what they called the Labor Chamber; where they had forced the resurrected people of Siruac, who were in a zombie-like state. Barbarious had raisen the people from the dead after they had been butchered; the bloodied reanimated corpses slaved away endless searching for the staff, never complaing, never tiring. The goblin in charge of the Chamber jerked the king into the hall and handed him to Zuers.

  Once in the throne tower, Zuers forced him to kneel before Barbarious. The king fell to his side. He tried to rise to his feet, but Zuers kicked him over and laughed while doing so. King Vincent reached his hand up tryi
ng to grasp what was once his throne, but Zuers simply knocked him back.

  “Bring him close…” said Barbarious.

  Zuers pushed him close to his master. Barbarious dug his twig-like fingers deep into the former king’s forehead. The dark wizard closed his hollow eyes and could see Vincent rushing through the halls toward his daughter’s room; he saw him leading the princess to the cellar where he placed her into the escape tunnel—then something caught his attention: the key King Vincent had handed to Elora illuminated the vision. The key shone brightly.

  Why had he not seen this sooner? Why had he not realized the obvious?

  “The staff…it is not in the castle…” Barbarious whispered to Zuers and William. “The key…is the staff.”

  When the dark wizard opened his hollow black eyes, he saw Zuers and William standing behind King Vincent—and he saw Alexandros, who appeared confused peered to the side and standing behind Barbarious the oracle. She floated around everyone only being seen by Alexandros. The oracle slowly conjured up the image of the small key Princess Elora wore around her neck. Then as sudden as the oracle appeared she was gone.

  “TAKE HIM NOW!” cried Barbarious. Barbarious pulled his skeletal fingers from the king’s mind and jumped up—but Alexandros was gone, and nowhere to be found.

  “What are you speaking about? Take whom?” asked William. “There is no one but the three of us in this room.”

  “The son of Mabruk…” said Barbarious. “He was standing in this very room!” Barbarious said. “…and has heard everything…”

  Alexandros jolted awake. He sat confused and baffled for a brief moment. As everyone slept by the campfire, he noticed Elora’s key Barbarious had seen in the mind of King Vincent.

  “Where did you get this key?” asked Alexandros, gently waking the princess.

  “My father…he told me to hold onto it…”

  “May I see it for a moment, princess?”

  “Yes, I suppose you may. It is just a key; I am not even sure to what it is for.” The princess slowly pulled the silver chain with the key from her neck and handed it to Alexandros.