The air was already thickened with hostile anticipation as a large conference chamber filled with armored warriors. A young noble led the tribe of gathered individuals to their seats around a massive oval table. He took his seat and the room fell silent.
“Lord of Far House, come fourth at once”, an elderly man beckoned from an ancient oak chair behind a large marble table. The elder sat with a presence of utmost importance and his gaze was sharp enough to inspire jealousy in even the most gifted hawks. He rested, one hand folded over the other, with his gaze piercing into the eyes of the young man clad in armor of red; the likeness of a vicious dragon into each scale craft upon it.
“Yes, my Lord?” The man kneeled before the old man bowing his head and placing both hands upon the risen knee. His sword hung loosely from his waist and his helmet lay at his feet. The dragon head helmet sparkled along the light, reflecting the hues of red, blue, green, and violet within the gem eyes jetting out where the eyebrows would end.
“There are three suns left until you are to hold the ceremony in which we will determine which of the students will graduate and become knights of the forest and which will have to study another year and try again. Your son, is he ready for his test?
“Velinor is practicing even as we speak as to be certain of his completion of the exam with the highest possible marks, your excellence”
The elderly man tilted his head forward and the armored man scrambled to his feet and issued a quick salute, “Thank you, Lord” He moved back to his seat at the long table in the center of the long room lit by several chandeliers and candles placed along the walls. Above the main entrance hung a sword crafted from a fine silver for the blade and emerald in the cross-guard and pommel while the grip was wrapped in fine leather. The table seated twelve and on a pedestal just beyond the far end was a luxurious throne of oak. The seat was covered in a deep green cloth laced with ancient symbols of the gods of old. Upon it sat an elderly man well over the age of any mortal man though his keen intellect would fool anyone. The red armored warrior sat the third to the left beside a young lady in a long blue skirt and lime green top, torn at the left shoulder and a piece of armor above her right. Behind her rested a black bow with two dark horns acting as a crosshair. The others at the table were all similarly dressed in green armor and a tunic underneath.
The old man rose to his feet spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and held a wide smile, “As I am sure you are all aware, I did not call you here in regards to curiosity on the progress of your students” He dropped his hands and took a seat at the far end of the table, his face casting a long shadow across the room. “I have called this meeting today because Latus, The Dark Prince, has awakened”
The room burst into a series of demands and protests seeking the source of information and the reliability of this source. Three of the green armored men shattered their glass upon the table and one sat with his sword drawn. The red armored man held his hand on the pommel of his weapon quickly glancing around the room uneasy with so much chaos. He glanced beside him to see the young lady clutching at her dress, eyes void of color and lost in a sea of thought.
“Silence!” the old man’s voice boomed as he waited for the table to regain order. The men bowed and offered a quick apology and sat again in their respective seats, all eyes on the elderly male. He scratched his hair and a pointed ear slid from beneath his hair and then he fixed it, covering his ear and again giving his attention to the table. “The temple in the heart of our beloved woods was attacked two moons ago and when the warriors of our king, Sera, arrived to put an end to the assailants, they found the Seal of Umbrae in purple flames along the floor of the central chamber and the seal which held Prince Latus had been broken”
There was a deathly silence about the room at the sound of the old man’s words. The red armored man rose from his seat and drew his sword only to sheath it and sit back down. The young lady still held that stare of emptiness about her as she clutched the bottom of her skirt. The other men sat in silence as the old man sipped from his goblet. “Now although Latus has been reborn, it is uncertain as to whether or not he still possesses his former strength. It is highly doubtful that he does, else this forest would have already been reduced to a desolate wasteland. No, Latus will need some time to regain his former powers. His true might was sealed into his sword and cannot be released until the Crimson Star flies across this world. It is then that he will have to travel deep into the Novlac Mountains in order to retrieve his sword and take it to the spiritual temple of Aquirnem where he would have to bathe in its healing waters to revitalize the energies within himself and the evil sword, Zoraek. We have until that time to prepare. His army has already grown larger than both the elves army of our grand forest as well as the army of men in Sera-Cin. Although they have yet to begin training for battle, they will once the year of the Crimson Star arrives.”
The red armored warrior started to breathe in deep heaves. “What are we to do, M’Lord?” He looked into the old man’s eyes and the breathing grew heavier.
“You are to continue to train your students until the day of the exams. From there we will decide a proper method of reaction. Until then you are to mention this to no one. Now leave, may the fates guide you” He opened his hands in a welcoming gesture and the door flung open. The group departed in a series of soft mumbles and worried expressions.
The woman in the blue skirt sat beside a small river that cut along the edge of Korgranth. Her bow, now strung with six arrows beside it, rest alongside her clutching at the dirt with its tiny hook-like thorns. There was a small thicket of trees around her to offer some privacy even in a tiny village like Korgranth. She was singing a tune that put several of the angels to shame. Even Serenade, Goddess of sound and water, would have had her attention caught by this voice. The strings of a violin pouring its soul into a pot with the strums of a harp and flute’s whistle to boil upon the flames of a series of horns were an imitation to the grace in which this voice demonstrated. Her icy blue hair hung below her shoulders to her chest, covering the rip over her left shoulder yet swayed as if dancing to her song.
Her feet dipped into the cold pool of water flowing along the village. A chilled shiver rushed up her back, ending her song, but she smiled from the touch of the coolness. Latus has returned, really? She looked around and smiled to the trees behind her and shook her head. That may be so, but he isn’t back at full strength yet so the prophecy may still be fulfilled.
She stood from the water and began to fire arrows into the targets she lined around the training area, each one being further from the last and at seemingly odd angles as well. The fury in her eyes burned with intensity but behind the fire rested a lonely pool of water drained of its contents and its last remaining droplets bleed into the charred wasteland.
The sound of crunching leaves broke the silence that surrounded her. She spun and aimed an arrow towards a figure emerging from the shadows of the large oaks blocking her view of the village. “Careful now, you might hurt yourself if you let that go”, a strong voice called from the darkness. Stepping into the light was a man clad in red armor crafted to resemble a dragon. His sword still hung in its scabbard tied to his waist. His long white blonde hair draped down his back and his emerald eyes sparkled into the water’s light. He flashed the young woman a smile, “Mind if I join you, Lone Wolfe?”
“Lone Wolfe, huh? I like it. It feels…mysterious and yet still powerful”, she said lowering the arrow from the man. “I suppose it would be alright, but what does a legendary hero want with a lowly archer girl like me?” She placed her hands on her hips after setting her bow down to rest beside her. Lone’s cerulean eyes shimmered as they looked upon the warrior’s armor.
The man laughed and bowed to Lone “My apologies, Miss. Call me Lucian. I simply wished to get away from the thoughts of that monster returning and maybe I would find a nice escape here. It seems you are after the same thing. Perhaps we could help keep our minds off of those thoughts? I don’t know much about you. Perhaps you could tell me more as we continue with our practice?”
“You may train here with me, but it will take time before I am comfortable enough to reveal more of my inner self to you.” She picked up her bow again and fired more arrows into the targets around.
“Very well” Lucian said drawing his sword. The blade was long and held a curve to it and was crafted with but a single edge. The steel was a shining blue white the cutting edge itself was emerald. The guard and pommel were shaped to mimic that of an attacking dragon. “This blade was crafted from the smiths of Aquirnem. For centuries the elves were known as the greatest blade smiths but this blade puts all the elves work to shame”
“You speak ill of your own race. Have you no shame?”
“I speak only the truth. Their craftsmanship is unsurpassed by any of this world” He swung the blade around effortlessly and with astonishing grace. Lone turned back to the water to hide the red flushing into her cheeks as she watched him move about the training area.
She crouched down and ran her fingers through the water, “You are familiar with the Prophecy of Despair, correct?”
Lucian stopped to look her way. He sheathed the blade and sat beside her in the grass, “No. What is this prophecy?”
She sat watching the water flow without a word. Where to begin? She glanced to the sky and then back to the water. Her hair shimmered in the light and her pale skin glowed in radiance with the water. She cast her gaze to his and tossed a pebble into the stream, “When the darkness sealed breaks its captors hold, calamity will plague the world. It is then that a hero will rise and, with sword in hand, banish the darkness into the void of nothing” She shifted her gaze to the clouds above and smiled lightly. “That is the short version of the prophecy. Only the monks atop the Clouded Peaks of the Novlac Mountains know the true prophecy. “
Lucian fixed his sight to the running water and rose to his feet with his hand resting upon the pommel of his blade. He drew the sword, swung it a few more times in various motions, and sheathed it yet again, “I am afraid I must be leaving now. Farewell, Lady Lone” Lucian turned and departed through the thicket of trees blocking the view of the village as Lone gathered some sticks and rocks to begin making more arrows.
He was familiar with the prophecy. I saw it in his eyes as he stood to leave. She sharpened a rock on a slab of stone. Her hands were trembling. She was afraid. The Dark Prince was revived so the calamity would surely occur but no one knew how or when it would happen. She reached for her bow as the only comfort around her and held it close. The sharp horns pricked her chest and she had to let go in a surge of hot pain.
She picked her bow back up and walked through the thicket into the village. The buildings weren’t very tall save for the large building at the far side of town where the conference was held hours ago, although, now Lone felt that every second was like an hour and every hour, a day. Lone dragged her feet with a sullen look on her face. Why did he have to be revived during my lifetime? What should I do? Will I be strong enough to hold my ground if he attacks? The roads stretched endlessly before her as she pressed on through the menacing grasp of twilight.
A tiny flame flickered upon the candle resting on the tray in the Elder’s hand. He waded his way through a sea of books to a small table that looked more like a deserted island in the immense waters of knowledge. As he sat, several books lined along the edge of the chair fell into the consumption trap swallowing all who enter. He smiled, opened a book, and skimmed through page after page in a desperate search. Though what for was a question that even he would have no answer for. He had been in a panic since he learned from a dear friend of his in the elven capital, Lethraiem, about the resurrection of the Dark Prince. “I am thankful that I have told the others of this matter. I am but a priest, but I am very well respected in the Church of Caelum.” He ran his bony fingers through the thick grey beard that draped down to his knees as he continued to skim through books and notes. Nothing he found made any connection to the return of the Dark Prince except for a prophecy he noticed in an ancient text written by a poet of the First Age.
He chuckled at that thought of it being the Third Age and he managed to live this long. “The Second Age was very quiet. I was truly hoping that I could die in the Third Age and live a peaceful life, though it seems the Gods have other plans for me and this world.”
A heavy creak broke the Elder’s thought as footsteps wandered through the sea of books to the old man.
“What is it, Termina?” The old man was still skimming through a book and didn’t look up.
A boy about fifteen dressed in a green tunic stood beside the old man holding a steaming cup upon a small plate. “Master Lerale, the sun has long since set and you have not yet come down to have supper nor drink. I bring you a hot cup of Forest Leaf Rock.” He placed the cup on a clear spot away from the books so to not spill. The scent of alcohol rushed through Termina’s nose, but not a strong scent. Although he believed that any alcohol would kill his thoughts and hinder his judgment. “I will return shortly with your supper”, he said as he turned and departed from the tiny island table.
Leaving that sea of books was more difficult then entering! Termina complained in a silent hall void of life. He rushed through the vast emptiness, passing the lavish paintings of the priests of old, as well as Korgranth before it was swallowed by the forest and was adopted by the elves. The village (back then) was surrounded by lush grass and held the great castle now used by the church. Sunlight bathed every inch of the village and the forest was still a league away in those times. Rows and rows of paintings lined the walls as Termina hurried to the kitchen.
In the cupboard were many bowls and plates of varying sizes and shapes, of colors and designs. Termina grabbed a midsized ceramic bowl from the center of the pile whilst stopping the others from crashing to the floor below. The scent of cheese and broccoli filled the air as Termina filled the bowl with the soup he was keeping warm with a small fire.
“Excuse me? I am seeking Elder Lerale. Would you please inform him that I wish to speak with him?” A voice called from behind Termina, a voice so delicate that it could have been woven by the hands of the almighty.
Termina turned to find a woman with blue hair standing in the doorway. She held her hands folded over her long blue skirt and in them lay small book bound in red leather with words of shining gold along the cover. “I am afraid he is rather busy at the moment. I kindly ask that you return here in the morning. My master is currently in his study, pouring himself over many books and will be there for quite some time.” He grabbed some bread from a pantry and placed it upon a small circular plate.
“Please, I beg of you! I must speak with Elder Lerale! It is urgent!” She pleaded
“Fine, I will let him know that you are here. Though do not be surprised if he should turn you away” He said as he vanished into a tunnel of darkness.
Will these books ever cease in their attempts to drown me?! Termina screamed silently as he waded through the sea of book to present his master with supper.
“Thank you, Termina.” Elder Lerale still hadn’t looked up from the book but was buried in an even deeper pile than before.
“Master, there is a woman who wishes to speak with you. She claims that it is urgent. Shall I send her away?”
Elder Lerale turned his head from the book. His eyes were swelling and the bags growing under them were starting to sag heavily, “No, you may send her here. Perhaps what she has to say could be of great importance.” He waved his hand to the door, sending Termina on his way.
The girl with the blue hair made her way behind Termina keeping a brisk pace as to not be left behind. Termina opened the door and she hurried passed him through the ever-expanding sea of books. She took a seat beside Elder Lerale who was swallowing a chunk of bread dipped in the broccoli and cheese soup. “I am deeply sorry for disturbing you at such an hour, Elder Lerale, but I have something I must tell you.” She placed her book on top of the table and began flipping through the pages frantically. She stopped on a picture of a circle with several designs and words of an ancient language long lost to the tongue of inhabitants of the present world. “This is what I wished to speak with you about.” She pointed to the circle and Elder Lerale nodded with a look of sternness one could have mistaken his face to be made of stone. “This circle was said to have been seen as well in the temple when the Dark Prince was returned to this world. It is called the Seal of Zux.”
“I am very familiar with the Seal of Zux, Arabella. Please explain why you have brought this to me.” His voice shook but didn’t break as he was fighting a battle as to not allow that to happen.
She nodded “My apologies, I have brought this to you attention because if this seal was used, it could only mean that the Dark Prince is seeking to renew the old order and revive the Church of Zux and in doing so, bring back the Zuxian Gods and cast the world into another Dark Age.”
“Then the prophecy is coming true . A great catastrophe is going to occur and the age of darkness will begin anew.” Elder Lerale said holding his head down.
“There is still time to act. I don’t know what to do, but surely you can think of something before his power return and ends all of us? She closed the book and rose from her seat. “I am going to continue my training and work with Lucian to do what we can so that we survive this threat and banish it.” She bid him farewell and departed from the sea of books.
Elder Lerale let out a sigh of exhaustion and left the sea as well. He made his way to the courtyard where a single tree grew surrounded by lush grass and beautiful flowers of violet, red, yellow, blue, white, and pink that almost painted a picture of a setting sun over a vast ocean along the beach. He glanced to the far side to see Termina swinging a wooden sword around, practicing his exercises to become a knight. Lerale laughed and strode over to Termina’s area and took a seat again on a small chair on some cobblestone. The smooth stone felt nice to sit upon and watch Termina from under the moonlight, “Perhaps we may have some hope after all…”
“Velinor, I am told that you will be taking the exam for knighthood upon the rising of the third sun”, Lucian drew his blade stepping in front of Velinor, placing several feet between them. “Let us hone your skills a bit before that day comes so that will be ready.” He flashed a smile to his son but his eyes held a terrible sense of loss. His hands slid along the hilt of his blade evening the weight for the sword to move freely. “Do not hold anything back, my son.”
“Father, I am no child. You should be the one giving it your all. You treat me as though I am one of the new students, holding a sword or a bow for the first time in my life. I am strong now father. You will see.” Velinor drew his weapon, a single edged sword with a slight curve along the thick blade. The pommel glistened with beautiful shining silver and the cross-guard matched its glory. He held the sword so the center of the blade lined along his line of sight and the cross-guard lay just behind his ear. His opposite hand hung just beyond the tip of the blade for balance and one leg stood angled from the other. “Father, let us begin.” He lunged forward thrusting his blade at Lucian’s heart, but Lucian parried deflecting the tip of Velinor’s sword to the side exposing his torso for a strike. Lucian finished by rushing forward and placing the blade of his sword against Velinor’s chest.
“Remember yourself, boy.” Lucian sheathed his sword and sat cross-legged on the hard floor. He placed a hand on the floor which told Velinor that he is to sit as well. Lucian squinted from the light of the flames blazing throughout the chamber and then closed his eyes once Velinor was sitting as well. “I am your father, but I am also a warrior just as you are.”
Velinor nodded, “yes sir”
“Then you must know that facing a warrior far stronger than yourself at their best is often the same as a death wish. I cannot tell you that enough. One day, my son, you will face someone who will not hesitate to take your life simply because you thought you had the skill to defeat such an opponent.” He sat motionless with his hands folded over his lap. The sounds of the flickering flames echoed across the chamber and all was still except for the dimming and brightening of the light. “Come, we will level your skills to higher peaks as this moon hangs in the sky.” He stood and drew his sword again as did Velinor.
