“What condition?”
“He had to defeat the dragol and permanently seal them in their realm in seven years. He could only use the sword of Feona for seven years and any day after the seventh year, he could lose his life, if he kept the sword.”
Davydd stood in stunned silence as he tried to digest all Ovar had been saying. He looked around the room towards the others and then back at Ovar.
“I was born half way through the seventh year... It is what you said.”
“Yes you were... And the world was in turmoil. The battles raged on endlessly, but with the power of the swords we had pushed most of the dragol forces back to their realm. One final push remained. However, there was discord in the house of Angweleth. Your father commanded one of the fiercest armies known to man, and his foremost military strategist, the commander of his army, had been key to the war thus far. However, his reputation and his pride began to sway his loyalty...” Ovar reached out with great effort, and placed his hand on Davydd’s shoulder.
“My boy... no other being in existence knows how to sow the seeds of chaos the way the dragol do. They were born from chaos and they could sense and smell the animosity growing between King Rikard and his right hand man... Sidion Vror.”
“Father...” It was barely a whisper but Davydd knew the voice, and so did everyone else. They slowly turned to look at Vannera. She bent her head down and avoided everyone’s stares.
“That’s how he became King? He betrayed Angweleth? He betrayed humanity?” She said.
“The promise of power and the lust for it can corrupt all but the most virtuous of men my princess.” Leo responded.
“Don’t call me that. I’m no princess.”
“Yes you are... Not by virtue of your father, but by virtue of your heart.”
Leo nodded reassuringly when Vannera glanced at him.
“He’s right.” Ovar added. “You are one case where the apple falling far from the tree is a good thing. You are definitely not like your father. It didn’t take long for the dragol to sway him to their side, and it didn’t take long for him to corrupt a significant portion of the army. A key battle was to be fought at the field of brave souls. This battle could have ended the quest of the dragol. However, Sidion Vror had other plans. On the day of the battle, Sidion and your father went over final strategies. They were to split the Angwelethean forces in half and Sidion was supposed lead his half behind the dragol when the battle had gone on for a certain time. The other kingdom’s forces and the rest of the Angwelethean forces were on the way. Sidion never showed up... at least not in time, and your father’s army was overwhelmed by the strongest of dragols. But your father fought valiantly and he defeated three of the ten principals single handedly. In the course of the battle, he received a mortal injury. His sword failed him that day...”
“His sword?” Davydd interrupted.
“The sword of Feona bestows upon its user a deadly set of powers that once the user masters, can make them quite the formidable foe. None of those powers worked when he needed it the most. Remember that the swords were given to us so we could have a fighting chance. When Feona’s sword failed Rikard Miljorn, he lost that fighting chance.”
Davydd paced around the room for a moment, running his hand through his hair. He took a deep breath and then spoke.
“What about me? What happened to me? Why didn’t Sidion kill me?”
“Your father suspected Sidion’s betrayal. He asked his closest friend to protect you, while Sidion entrusted the execution of you and your mother to his best assassin.”
“Who was my father’s closest friend?”
“Me.”
“So you killed the assassin?”
“You could say that.”
“What? What happened? Who was the assassin?”
Ovar kept quiet for a while and then spoke slowly.
“I... was the assassin.”
Davydd stood shell shocked, staring at Ovar. Tears fell from his eyes as he slowly backed away towards the room door.
“You...”
Ovar got up to his feet with great effort. “Davydd... Wait...”
“You... you...”
“Son...”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Son... my allegiance was never ever to Sidion.”
Davydd kept staring at him, backing up as Ovar stepped forward.
“Yes... you are dead. But this is by my word to Sidion.”
“You faked our deaths?” Davydd said suddenly finding his voice again.
“You faked our deaths.” He repeated the words as if confirming it to himself.
“Yes. I faked both of your deaths.”
“Where is she?!”
“In time, you will meet her.” Matilom interjected.
“How did you do it? How did you fake our deaths?”
“I had a wife who was with child. Our son... They both died during childbirth... You... you became that child for me... and for my wife’s body... Matilom... he...”
“I performed a transformation spell.” Matilom said, finishing Ovar’s sentence.
“Afterwards, I faked my own death... It was not hard to do.” Ovar said, finding his voice again.
“You did that for me?”
“Yes... for you, for your father and your mother, the kingdom of Angweleth, for Terrianus... for the memory of my wife and child.”
“I don’t understand. How could all of this happen? If things had gone one way, I would be a prince and if things had gone the other... I would be dead.”
“There are no random events in life.” Matilom said stepping forward. “Everything happens for a reason, and you are here now for a reason. The only things in life you can control are your choices and you have the chance to make one now. But be forewarned, destiny runs more strongly with some than with others. With you, destiny is overpowering.”
“So... what are you asking of me? You want me to help defeat the dragol?”
“Oh no your highness.” Max said whirling his dagger. “We are asking you to be king. To be the man you were born to be. Defeating the dragol is merely your first and your greatest task.” Suddenly, as Davydd was about to respond, Max put his finger on his lips signaling for him to be quiet. In a flash, Max was gone through a portal. No sooner than he was gone, was he back clasping an Angwelethean soldier around the neck with his dagger on the windpipe. “It seems as though we have a spy.”
“How did he find us?” Sam asked as he walked over to Max and the soldier.
“What is your name?” Sam asked.
“Segmiatus?” Everyone turned to look at Davydd who was staring at Segmiatus in shock. Ovar walked up and gently pushed away Max’s dagger.
“How did you find us?”
“Word spreads fast in Gor. I heard of your arrest Ovar. I tried to come visit you, as I feared for your safety, and Davydd’s. However, you weren’t allowed any visitors. I had no idea what to do, until the rescue... or rather, the escape. I was in town when it happened, so I decided to do a search by myself. I couldn’t think of any place better to start than the misty forest and luckily, Davydd had taught me how to track... but the tracks of your carriage, stopped right where I was. I was about to give up till he appeared out of the blue. Davydd what is going on here?”
“Segmiatus, did anyone follow you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I was not followed.”
“Davydd.” Matilom called out as he walked towards Davydd. “Time is of the essence. Will you accept your rightful place as King of Angweleth?”
“King?” Asked Segmiatus
Davydd turned to Matilom.
“Even if I did... am I to walk straight into the castle in Alvo and declare myself ruler of all? Who would follow me?”
Leo walked up to Davydd and genuflected on one knee, bowing as he did.
“You are your father’s son. You are Davydd Miljorn, son of the great Rikard Miljorn. You will do just fine and I would follow
you.”
“My Feona! Davydd. You?”
“Shocking isn’t it Segmiatus? All my life I never felt much like royalty.”
Davydd turned back to Matilom.
“And where were you all these years? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t Father? Why didn’t anyone tell me or prepare me?”
“Fool!” Matilom said as his eyebrows creased together in an intense frown. “We all had to keep our lips sealed all these years to keep you alive. If Sidion Vror had gotten the slightest hint of the possibility of your survival, he would have turned the entire kingdom of Angweleth upside down just to find you. And the bloodshed and all the people who would die during that search would still be nothing compared to the disaster and destruction that awaits humanity should you walk away now. You asked me why I never showed up. Why I never walked in with words of truth? Because I didn’t have the heart to bring up another boy who would become like a son to me, only to stand by their side while the life bled away from them! I wanted you to live some semblance of a normal life because I knew the day I stepped into your life, I would have to take you away from every form of happiness you might have. Your father fought and gave his life to give you a chance and to give humanity another day to live and exist. And yet, even on his dying breath, he was thinking of you. He would never lay eyes on you again and it was crushing his heart. If you agree to accept your heritage, by the gods I swear, I will take you away. There will be hard times ahead but I promise you one thing. I will do my best to make you the greatest king Terrianus has ever seen. And it is my wish that this time, you will bury me instead.”
Davydd turned and looked around the room. His eyes went from Ovar to Segmiatus, and from Vannera to Sam and Leo and then to Max. Sam got up and walked up to Davydd. He looked at him smiled and got down onto his right knee and bowed his head.
“From this moment, I will follow you until death takes me away my king.”
Davydd ran both hands through his hair and closed his eyes briefly.
“I was really looking forward to going back to hunting.” There was a short period of silence that felt like an eternity.
“I would really like to get to know more about my... royal father, and meet my mother. But they tried to kill the father I know and love. I accept. I accept my heritage.”
CHAPTER FIVE: The Journey Begins
A man lay fast asleep on the cobblestoned street leading up to the massive doors of Alvo’s castle. Suddenly aware that the prickly and cold sensation he was feeling on his right cheek was indeed bare ground, he awoke and sprang to his feet. He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus and remember where he was. Finally realizing he was outside the castle, he banged on the doors with his right fist.
“Guards!” He banged on the doors again, this time with both fists.
“Guards! What is the meaning of this?” He checked to make sure his sword was with him. It wasn’t there. It was then that the man heard footsteps walking towards the two doors from the other side. The man stepped back and the wash of moonlight, fell over his silver armor and cape. On his cape was the insignia of a tiger, holding a sword in its mouth. The doors slowly swung open and a figure in golden armor slowly stepped out of the wash of light from oil lamps, into the silver blue wash of moonlight. His golden armor seemed to absorb the light and a blue glow seemed to surround it. His deep-sea blue eyes stared intensely at the other soldier. He was strongly built, with a tall and powerful presence about him that was only accentuated by the regality of his golden battle gear. He had long brown hair that was tied into a ponytail and a layer of brown beard. The man in the silver armor spoke first.
“You can’t be here. You can’t...”
The man in the golden armor smiled.
“But I am.”
“You are dead. You have to be. I... I...watched you die. I saw Matilom close your eyes.”
“And I’m sure you did. Now be gone.”
The silver armored man looked at the vast castle from end to end. He brushed his black hair away from his eyes and rubbed on the brush of beard growing on his jaw.
“Go where? This is my home. This is my Kingdom.”
“How does it feel to have it taken away?”
“No one’s going to take it away! No one!”
The man in the golden armor smiled again.
“I am merely bringing you a message Sidion. Your time is running out. He will be coming soon.”
“Who will be coming?”
The man in the golden armor turned around and began walking back inside. Sidion tried to follow but he felt a force push him back. Or was it that he was walking in place? The doors began to close again.
“Who is coming? Rikard! Who is coming?”
“Someone greater than I ever was.”
The doors finally closed.
“Who? Rikard! Rikard!”
Sidion Vror opened his eyes and shot up from his bed breathing heavily. He was completely drenched in sweat, despite a cold and gentle early morning breeze, sifting in through his window. It had been a dream, or rather a nightmare. Sidion got up from his bed and paced back and forth in his room trying to make sense of what he had just experienced. He noticed that his hands were trembling, and it annoyed him. He was afraid, but he didn’t know what it was that terrified him. He decided he needed a bath to clear his head. Sidion walked past the elegant curtains of his bedroom into another that had freshly plucked sweet smelling flowers stashed on each side of its walls, in concrete holders that had been built specifically for them. In the center of the room, was an artificial hot spring, which he promptly immersed himself in. He leaned against the wall of the spring and let the hot bubbling water sooth him. There were also beautiful naked women who were on their knees surrounding the room. They knelt below each stash of flowers awaiting orders of any kind from Sidion. It didn’t take long for Sidion to beckon for one or two to join him and give him a scrub. As they gently scrubbed his back and abdomen, Sidion closed his eyes and took a deep breath. At that moment, a guard walked in to the king’s chambers and stood at a respectable distance, waiting to be acknowledged.
“What is it?” Sidion finally asked.
“Your highness, lord Trudor has returned from his trip to Gor, and requests to speak with you. He says he brings news that can hardly wait.”
Sidion sat up and motioned for his robes.
“Very well. You are dismissed.”
The guard nodded respectfully, turned and left the room.
Sidion dried off with a woolen cloth and then slipped on his silk red robe and a pair of sandals made from animal skin. He walked around the hot spring towards a door that led into a hallway lit with flame torches hanging from either side. Sidion followed the path as it turned right and descended into a set of stairs that led to what seemed like a huge study or library. It was a grandiose circular shaped room lined with huge bookshelves that stood like massive wooden giants. The ceiling arched into a dome made of the most expensive stained glass paintings in the kingdom of Angweleth. The floor was a well-polished marble, covered in different sections with highly decorated mats and rugs. On top of the mats and rugs were study desks and chairs. There was a huge table in the center of the room on which lay a spread out map of Angweleth. Trudor stood at the other side of the table.
“I see you have returned.” Sidion spoke. “You were away a bit longer than I expected. What did you find out?”
“Your highness.” Trudor nodded his head lowly. “Jaynea is alive but I have confirmed that the princess was killed during the attack... I am sorry your highness, I couldn’t get there in time.”
Sidion’s gaze shifted downwards toward the marble floor and almost as suddenly, a wave of grief came over him. But soon enough, he regained control over his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he asked.
“You say Jaynea lives. Have you brought her to me?”
“Therein lays the problem your highness. She seems to have found friends with skill enough to deter my team from apprehending her... It is as a re
sult of this unexpected resistance, that Brutus is dead.”
“How is this possible? No group of men could possibly best you and your team Trudor, unless they are of reaper class.”
“There was one man that could your highness... At best he fought on par with us your highness, and as I said, he wasn’t alone. He had a group of fighters, each seeming to possess knowledge on the arts of magic.”
“Describe this man to me.”
“He was big and strong in frame. He wielded a sword as if it was a wand, and his form and stance had no weaknesses. He had dark graying hair and beard. We were able to overpower and arrest him. Before he was rescued by his friends, I did my very best to get some answers. All I found out was his name... Ovar Tardust. His son Davydd Tardust seems to have an interest in Jaynea.”
“Ovar Tardust...” King Sidion said and then trailed off.
“Your highness”. You seem to know him.”
“Knew. I knew him. He was a young soldier who fought during the Great War and was a student of my partner. A pauper with great dreams and a lot of promise, if I must say. He died before his time, much too early in the war. Another ambitious young warrior cut down by the Dragol.”
“It would seem he survived after all.”
“Oh no. He’s dead. Very dead.”
Sidion turned and surveyed the map of Angweleth.
“You say his son is Davydd Tardust. You would not happen to know what the boy looks like do you.”
“I do.” As Trudor proceeded to describe Davydd’s features to king Sidion, the king’s eyes widened ever so slightly in fear. Someone greater than I ever was.
Could this really be happening? At this time nonetheless?
“Baximus Bastien.” King Sidion finally said.
Metal and Magic: A Fantasy Journey Page 66
