Legends of Marithia: Book 1 - Prophecies Awakening: Uncut and Extended Second Edition (23 page)

Dryden reached up and held her chin to bring
her face up to his as he looked deep into her eyes. "My queen. If I
may, it is
because
you are scared stiff, and you still stand
to lead them, that you are worthy of doing so. Courage is in your
heart, and I will be proud to stand beside you in battle, Your
Highness. I will protect you and Helenia, and would die for either
of you."

Andrielle looked deep into his eyes and she
suddenly leaned in to lay a soft kiss on Dryden's lips before her
eyes burst open and she quickly withdrew from his arms. A shudder
went through the ground as a burning missile crashed into the
city.

She looked away from him and her face
reddened. "Forgive me, Dryden,” she whispered. “You are one of my
most trusted friends, and I did not mean to break that trust. Thank
you for your kindness, but I need to be alone for a moment. Please,
leave me to make ready my sword."

Dryden smiled. "My trust has not been broken,
my queen. I am always here for you, whatever you need."

He shut the door behind him and shook out his
hands to calm his fluttering heart as he returned to his
duties.

Chapter 15: Homecoming

“I never thought war would be such an awful
reality until I stared into its grisly face. To die in battle is
often referred to as a heroic act, but I will never understand
that. What glory is there in bleeding to death in agony on the
battlefield?

I have no intention of dying at the hands of
my enemy.”

(General Faowind of Veldrenn)

Vartan dismounted from Nymira and onto
familiar grounds, drawing the night’s air into his lungs. Closing
his eyes tight, he took in the air through his nose, hunting for
the scent of blood. His eyes shot open and his heart pumped wildly
when the vision’s memories flooded his mind. The blood, the
writing, the bodies, the ropes—all sent cold shivers up his spine
and turned his stomach.

“Vartan, I will hide myself outside and be
ready at the first sign of trouble. All you need to do is to call
for me and I will be right here,” said Nymira.

Vartan and Tusdar watched her slowly fade
into the night as she mutated her scales and her footprints were
all that were left behind.

Tusdar put a hand on Vartan's shoulder and
whispered, “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, thank you, Tusdar,” replied Vartan,
patting his companion's back. “This is my journey to make. Search
the surrounding area, and yell for me if you find any survivors.
Search quietly and carefully.”

“As you wish, Vartan,” said Tusdar, nodding.
He watched as Tusdar began his search through the surrounding
farmland, walking carefully with each step. Satisfied that Tusdar
was busy with his task, he spun around to face the farmhouse.

Come on, Vartan, be strong,
said
Keturah reassuringly.
I am right here with you, no matter what
happens.

I need to be able to see, it’s far too
dark tonight,
thought Vartan.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “
Emitte
lucem et veritatem.
”

His eyelids sparkled momentarily as the spell
took effect. Today he was going to take no unnecessary chances, and
he drew his sword into the night to lead his way. The shimmer of
moonlight reflecting off the blade almost blinded his ensorcelled
eyes and he shook his head to refocus his vision. Vartan stepped
onto his family porch and almost tripped over the rocking chair
that was lying on its side. A horse carving rolled off the chair
and bumped against his feet. Vartan picked it up and raised it to
his face. The memories of his bother playing with the carving when
he was still human filled his heart with joy and he allowed himself
a smile. “Ah Finn, how you always loved to play,” he mumbled to
himself.

He placed his brother's carving back on the
chair and steadied his nerves.

Things are different,
thought Vartan.
And if things are different, then maybe my vision was only a
dream.

Vartan allowed himself a smile and approached
the door carefully. As the door creaked open, the stench of blood
suddenly overwhelmed his senses and stripped the smile from his
face. Embers in the fireplace twinkled in his vision like diamonds,
and a sense of déjà vu smothered him.

Vartan frantically ran up the stairs, taking
no notice of anything else around him until he stopped short of his
parents’ bedroom door. He looked down reluctantly and noticed that
a crude blood trail led into the room, under the door.

No! It can’t be true!
he thought.
I
need to keep my senses sharp, and I can’t do that with this spell
on my eyes.

“
Ex viso cantio dispellatur.,
”
whispered Vartan, and his view returned to darkness.

Only the light escaping from beneath the door
and the dim red glow from the fireplace downstairs granted him
sight. The sound of the blowing wind whistled from behind the door.
It was then that the creaking of ropes reached his ears. Abandoning
all hope, Vartan could only see red as his blood surged through his
veins.

Please gods, no. Let it all have been a
dream,
thought Vartan.

Taking a step back, he booted the door open
as hard as he could before charging into the room. He squinted as
his eyes adjusted to the bright moonlight through the broken
window.

With his sudden entrance, Vartan had barely
enough time to notice the silver blade coming at his neck. He
dropped onto his back and slid forward on the dusty floor. As if
time had slowed down, he watched as the shiny blade flew over his
nose and Vartan felt the cold of its steel on his skin before his
sliding body halted near the open window under a cloud of dust.

In the moonlight, Vartan could make out the
grey skin of his mother lying dead on the floor. The usually light
wooden planks were almost completely drenched in dried blood. Like
a startled snake, Vartan turned sharply on his opponent, whom he
could just make out. The figure appeared too large to be a woman
and was wearing a heavy robe.

The rage took over his body when he noticed
the hanging lump of flesh out of the corner of his eye. The blood
dripped onto the floor and rivulets of it trickled into slowly
expanding pools.

“Damn you!” screamed Vartan. “May the gods
not
have mercy on your soul!”

He ran at the figure in the darkness and
stabbed at him with furious intensity. The man grunted as he barely
dodged the attacks; Vartan’s sword met his own with a loud clash of
metal. Vartan shouted and kicked the man’s chest with all of his
might. As the force of the blow sent the man crashing through the
wall and tumbling down the stairs, dust from the broken wall filled
the room and made Vartan cough uncontrollably.

Like a man possessed, Vartan hurtled through
the broken wall and down the stairs to see the man crawling towards
the door in agony, spitting blood across the dirty floor. His sword
lay idle by the fireplace, and Vartan snatched it hastily off the
ground.

“Nobody skins my parents and lives to tell
the tale, you filthy animal!” yelled Vartan.

With a smooth motion, he plunged the man’s
own sword through his leg and pinned him in place. The man grunted
in agony and his hands shook weakly. He spat more blood from his
mouth. Vartan lifted his sword high in the air and aimed it at the
man’s still-cowled neck. The man waved a hand with his remaining
strength, as if he was trying desperately to gain Vartan’s
attention.

“What could you
possibly
have to say
for yourself before I run you through?” asked Vartan angrily.

Despite his leg, still impaled to the floor,
the man managed to turn over to face Vartan, his quivering hand
pathetically shielding him from Vartan’s sword.

Vartan, is that who I think it is?
asked Keturah.

Vartan dropped to his knees by the man and
was overwhelmed with grief. Tears clouded his vision.

“No! What have I done?” he screamed at the
top of his lungs. He buried his face in his hands in anguish.

Vartan thought back to the vision and
realised that he had ignored something. He raised his head and
turned to the message written with blood on the wall.

How does it feel to have killed your own
father? Now who is the pathetic one, young knight? Lots of love,
Kassina.

“No!” screamed Vartan, turning to his father
who wheezed on the floor. Vartan crawled over to him desperately
and felt Nymira’s presence through the open doorway.

By the gods, Vartan, is that your
father?
she asked.

“Nymira, you have to help him,” pleaded
Vartan. “Is there
anything
you can do?”

He opened his father’s mouth to see that his
tongue had been roughly cut out. Fresh blood still oozed from the
wound.

“That damned witch Kassina—what has she done
to you?” cried Vartan.

I’m sorry, Vartan,
said Nymira
, but
I cannot take him to a healer in time to save him from a human’s
death. However, this will not be the end for him. He will be born
again as a dragon, as will your mother. Nothing on this planet can
save him. Where is your mother?

Leon grunted again as he grabbed Vartan’s
sword, placed the hilt into Vartan’s hands, and nodded with tears
in his eyes, collapsing his head on the floor. Vartan stepped back
in defiance.

“No, I will not kill my own father. I will
not fail my entire family. Not today, not
ever
,” he
cried.

Vartan, do you have any other artefacts
aside from me?
asked Keturah.

Vartan turned to Nymira as the realisation
sank in.

“You said that nothing on
this
planet
will save my father. What if something from another planet will?”
he asked.

Vartan quickly threw his pack to the floor
and rummaged through for the objects he obtained from She’Ma’Ryn.
As he searched his pack, Vartan found the source of a faint pink
glow and when he pulled the glowing object out, he held the golden
egg. He smiled as hope now spurred him on.

You cannot heal your father while he has a
sword stuck in his leg. It has to be removed, and you will need to
act quickly,
said Keturah.

“Father, I need you to prepare for me to
remove the sword. I am so sorry, I had no idea it was you,” said
Vartan.

Leon nodded in agreement and he closed his
eyes tight to brace himself for the pain. Vartan grabbed hold of
the hilt with both hands and held down the leg with his knee to
stop his father from moving unnecessarily. He carefully eased out
the sword. Fresh blood spurted into the air and all over his body.
Leon groaned with the burning white pain as he clutched at the
wound.

Vartan panicked at the sight of the blood,
staring with vacant wide eyes.

Now focus!
said Keturah.
The
artefact you hold is called an Egg of Life. I have seen these in
our world’s equivalent of your City of Wonders. It is incredibly
rare and immensely powerful. You need to carefully twist it open
and be sure to get every drop into him.

Vartan lifted the egg to his face and gently
turned the two halves until they clicked. As carefully as he could,
Vartan pulled the halves apart. There was a slight hiss and the
scent of a desert rose filled the air. There was a sparkling pink
liquid within the egg. Vartan balanced it precariously in his
hands, battling with his nerves to stop it from spilling uselessly
to the ground.

“I need you to swallow all of this. I know
your mouth must be painful right now, but it is the only way,”
whispered Vartan.

Vartan used his free arm to help raise his
father’s head, and Leon sipped the pink liquid into his mouth and
swallowed. Twitches of sharp pain passed across his eyes and he
clenched his fists. It only took a few moments for the magic to
start its work. Leon’s body began to glow pink, increasing in
intensity until Vartan couldn’t bear to look at him. The light was
almost blindingly bright.

The room filled with a high pitched ringing
sound that grew in intensity until Vartan had to cover his ears to
block it out.

The light slowly dimmed, and Vartan turned to
look at his revived father. Leon was already standing up straight,
breathing deep with his sword in hand. He had discarded his heavy
robe and stood before Vartan in his slightly torn clothes, the fury
in his heart pumping through his veins. He reached into his mouth
and found that his tongue had also regenerated and he was once
again able to speak.

Smiling with pride, Leon strode over to give
his son a rough but warm hug.

“Thank you, Vartan,” said Leon. “That
cowardly bitch Kassina and her vampire assassins ambushed the house
while we were sleeping; they imprisoned us after taking Greenhaven.
By the gods, whatever was in that strange egg has returned all of
my strength to me!” He flexed his muscles in wonderment. He swung
his sword into the wall with the crudely written blood message with
such force that the blade stuck, leaving the hilt wobbling in the
air.

“That
wench
skinned your mother, while
the vamps forced my eyes open to watch before they cut my tongue
out. I can still hear her screams... how I long for the day to
return that favour,” growled Leon, his face full of horror. He
turned back to Vartan. “Then they left me here alive and told me
that if I were ever to leave the rotting bedroom, the assassins
would be waiting for me and turn me into one of those vile
creatures. I thought you were one of
them
when you burst
into the room. I managed to find my sword that I had hidden away in
case anyone broke in, after they had left. I thought about jumping
out the window, but I would have broken my legs."

His face paled as it dawned on him that he
had fallen into a trap, and he ripped his sword out from the wall
hastily.