Legends of Marithia: Book 2 - Darkness Rising (2 page)

Leon had been granted his wish to
experience human life by Karven, the king of dragons, along with
his late wife Victoria. This was a wish that could only be granted
once and was their most powerful spell, its invocation guarded
fiercely by their kind. Requesting the use of it was not a decision
he and his wife had taken lightly, especially given the complex
process of transformation. To become human, they had to be born
human and would endure an entire childhood before meeting
again.

Born into different Marithian
families, they spent most of their human lives searching for each
other. Unlike humans, their memories and knowledge remained intact
when reborn. There was another substantial cost to be paid for
their transformation; despite the rich dragon blood running through
their veins, they no longer had powers inherent to their kind. They
did have the one form of magic that every human is granted – the
ability to create life, and their children would not be bound by
the cost of their spell. They would, in time, develop the powers
Leon and Victoria had willingly sacrificed.

Once they were married, they were
blessed with two sons, Vartan and Finn who were raised as if they
were merely human, in an effort to protect them. Either of them
could have become the boy of the Talonsphere prophecy. Tragically,
Finn would not survive to fulfil the prophecy. His fate would send
him to die horrifically in an attack by a shadow demon.

Vartan, the older of the two, never
forgave himself, feeling he had failed in his duties to protect his
younger brother.

Thinking Finn had died, Vartan grieved
the loss of his brother. His life focused on living out his
brother’s dreams and taking revenge on the Forces of Darkness that
took Finn from him.

Relief came when Vartan met the Queen
of the Dragons, Nymira. The truth of his parents’ heritage was
revealed to him and he discovered that his brother had been reborn
in his true form. The brothers were later reunited at Trahoterra,
the island of dragons.

Vartan was the prophesised saviour of
Marithia, destined to join with the legendary weapon Talonsphere
and save them from the Forces of Darkness. Unfortunately, after the
battle of the Elven Woods, he lies close to death, but protected at
Trahoterra. The island was remote, sitting deep within a protective
mist, and had been untouched by human hands for countless years. As
such, it was rich with herbs and plants that were extinct
elsewhere. The ancients had explored select parts of the island
when they worked with the dragons many eons ago. They were the only
humans prior to Vartan, Leon and Trisa to be fortunate enough to
visit Trahoterra.

It was not that humans or elves did
not want to see the island. It was simply impenetrable. Not that
the disappearances over the years deterred many from trying. The
razor-sharp rocks protecting its outskirts would sink any boats
that ventured near. There is no beach for any sea vessel to land.
The only way in was by air and this suited the dragons perfectly.
From a dragons-eye view, the island closely resembled talons
reaching far into the sky, as if a bird the size of Marithia was
trying to grasp the clouds from beneath the sea.

Trisa’s healing potions required only
a few ingredients and the most potent of these were only found on
Trahoterra.

To the humans, the Weeping Falls had
only existed in fables. But to the dragons, they were real and a
most sacred place. It is said that the falls contain the tears of
dragons from days of old. They gathered at the falls to mourn their
lost kin and their tears gave the falls unimaginable powers of
healing.

Finn had taken Trisa and Leon to the
falls once he learned what was required to mend his human-born
brother. The dragon’s blood pumping through Vartan’s veins gave him
powers of magic, as well as strength far greater than any human or
elf, but it wasn’t enough to mend the damage.

He would need the combined help of
Trisa’s potions and the Weeping Falls.

Vartan was between the world of the
living and the underworld. He had lost control of his mind to
Kassina’s spell and his memories were foggy and confused. He
struggled to understand the choice between saving his human soul
and being reborn in his true form inside the ancient weapon that
may save them all.

Talonsphere, knowing that the prophecy
was not unfolding as foretold, that it was the wrong time for
Vartan to enter the weapon, worked hard to lead him back to
Marithia and painstakingly attempted to revive Vartan’s
memory.

The ancients built the weapon,
Talonsphere, with the help of dragons. It was believed to be hidden
in Greenhaven, the golden city which had been captured by Kassina,
vampire queen of the underworld. She used the Forces of Darkness at
her disposal to search and dig for the weapon. Little did she know
that she was given a false map to its location and her efforts were
in vain. She had failed to find the weapon but had succeeded in
nearly destroying the city in the process.

Trisa approached the fallen dragon
queen’s body and began her ritual of adding herbs to the water that
surrounded her. She could not ingest any potions and therefore,
Trisa resorted to alternative methods in her efforts to preserve
Nymira’s body. Dragons were adept at healing their own when they
were wounded, but had no knowledge of how to heal one who was
deceased. They welcomed Trisa’s suggestion of preserving Nymira
until a solution could be found.

She could not leave Vartan or Nymira’s
side, so Leon retrieved water from the Weeping Falls for her. The
waters of the falls were powerful, but nobody knew how long they
would protect the dragon queen before she began to
decay.

Trisa ran her right hand down Nymira’s
side, in an attempt to transfer some warmth while greatly enjoying
the texture of the smooth dragon scales sliding over her
skin.

Her eyes twinkled and her voice broke
as she said, “Hold on great queen, help is coming.”

She didn’t hold much hope for the dead
queen being resurrected, but she thought that if she kept speaking
the words aloud… that they would ring true.

Although Trisa was not aware of it,
Nymira’s spirit remained, tethered to her fallen body ever since
she plummeted into the ground at the battle of the Elven
Woods.

The dangerously powerful spell she had
cast in an effort to destroy the vampire army had nearly taken her
life. She appeared lifeless to others. Although she wasn’t inside
her body, Nymira was conscious and able to see everything that took
place around her. She could only observe and listen; tormented that
she could not tell anyone that she was still there.

Try as hard as she might, she wasn’t
able to return to her fallen body. It was as if an impenetrable
gate was half closed and she could not fit through the opening. So
there she waited, anchored by the chains that linked her body and
soul… a soul which was now overwhelmed with sadness.

Nymira could not shake the dark
emotions within her. She wanted to return to herself so badly, but
felt trapped, like a prisoner, barred from returning to her own
body.

Suddenly, Trisa too was overwhelmed
with an unexplained sadness and shed tears uncontrollably. She wept
so heavily that she was almost blinded.

With great difficulty, she removed her
hand from Nymira’s body and the emotions slowly drained out of her
body. Shaken by the impact of the emotional barrage she had just
experienced, her mind swarmed with the realisation that she must
have felt Nymira’s distress.

Her moist face brightened with a smile
as she now knew that resurrection was a real possibility and she
wiped the tears from her face. “I know you are in pain, but we are
doing everything we can for you.”

Deep down, the dragon queen knew that
everyone was doing what they could. She just hoped that it would be
enough and that help would arrive in time.

Chapter 2 : Deadly
Ties

“
Deception is the grandest
of all magic tricks, and by utilising it I have managed to weaken
our adversaries’ resolve. They honestly believe me to have perished
and that I could die by the blade of a pathetic human
healer.

This is not a world crafted by their
dreams and I am no fairy tale.

We will make them realise that true
power cannot be defeated. One by one, I will crush them like the
insignificant ants they are, under the heel of my boot.”

(Queen Kassina of the
Underworld)

Shindar, the Demon of Darkness and
lord of the underworld was rarely sighted without the blackness of
death following close behind. The underworld was a chaotic plane
identical in its design to the world of Marithia and was roamed by
countless souls who had been banished there. Dark tales of the
underworld spoke in detail of his creation, but those stories
varied from blood scripture.

In the times of ancients’ rule,
Shindar had been granted the gift of life by the gods of the higher
plane, the same gods Marithians would come to worship. Most
Marithians were unaware that the scripture once taught by their
long abandoned churches was built upon words spoken by the lord of
the underworld who they now feared the most, Shindar.

There was a time when he wasn’t feared
by any Marithian and he was, in fact, lovingly worshipped. His life
was spent spreading words of peace, living modestly and purely and
he provided the world with a unified belief. He taught ways to live
fruitful, productive lives worthy of entry into a higher plane. A
place that would allow them a life they could only dream of. He
performed miracles utilising the magic granted to him by the gods,
proving to Marithians that he was from a plane more pure than their
own and worthy of their worship. His priests recorded his teachings
and distributed the books across Marithia bearing his name.
‘Purity: The Book Of The Gods’ became a household name and was
studied by all.

As could be predicted, his popularity
swiftly grew like wildfire and many women yearned for his
affections. He fell in love with the one woman who was famed for
her beauty across the lands, the one woman that most men wanted for
their own. Shindar took her as his wife and after some time, they
decided to start a family. Marithians kindly built them a
picturesque cottage; a gift for the enrichment his teachings had
brought to their lives. However, all beautiful things can be
destroyed by one singular act of evil.

One fateful night, Shindar returned
from his usual task of fetching firewood. He walked joyfully,
calling out eagerly for his wife. “Angeline, I’m home.”

When there was no answer, he felt that
something was wrong. Angeline always eagerly awaited his homecoming
and often was waiting on their porch after hearing his call. As he
neared the cottage, he noticed that a window had been broken. As if
day had reverted to night, he immediately dropped the firewood and
searched the house frantically. What he saw would change him at the
very depths of his soul, forever. His wife lay brutally raped and
murdered on their marriage bed. Her mouth had been gagged and
bloody tears had streamed from her staring, lifeless eyes. It was
obvious from the horrific wounds on her arms and hands that she had
fought for her and their child’s lives until the bitter
end.

His jaw clenched so tight that he felt
his teeth crack under the pressure. Running to his wife’s side, he
placed his hand on her belly… hoping for signs of life inside her.
His child was dead, taken from the world before it had a chance to
be brought into it.

Bracing for the pain, he closed his
watery eyes and mumbled a spell. With a flash of light under his
eyelids, he relived Angeline’s last moments. He could see the faces
of the attackers and immediately recognised them… he remembered
them from his church, his place of supposed peace.

His eyes narrowed as the realisation
sank in and he growled, “No!”, breaking the spell as the vision was
too painful to bear.

Shindar cried uncontrollably in agony,
his body violently shaking with the pain and power of hatred now
surging inside him.

He heard loud, quick footsteps hastily
departing through his front door.

Unable to control his rage, he tore a
wooden leg from their bedside table with his bare hands and gave
chase to the two men, growling as anger ate away his soul. It did
not take long for him to gain ground on the men and he took vicious
vengeance into his own hands. His ferocious blows tore flesh from
their bones, and he did not stop until they were turned into a
bloody heap before him and his heart had turned as black as a
moonless night.