Click here to read Part One.
As the boy and his army landed on the shores of Tenebris, a fortress loomed up ahead. Its granite walls seemed held up by the very hills themselves. The boy put the helmet on, raised the sword over his head, and yelled out. The skies darkened, thick clouds of fury formed, and rain began pouring down. Then, turning to his army, he spoke: “May this storm follow me wherever I go, staying where I walk, covering the land until the day my country has been avenged. Then will you who live through be set free. I see it punishment enough for you to kill your own… to murder them in their sleep, to fight them in battle.” Horns and drums sounded from the fortress. One of the men stepped forward. “They have sounded warning. It is known that a mage stands in our-” The man crumpled to the ground as his young chieftain ran him through. “‘Tis no magic I practice, but a gift given me by the divine. The next of of you to say I practice magic will be dragged behind a horse, until he die, however that may be.” The soldiers looked nervously between the boy and their king’s home, the fortress. “Aye King!” yelled out a voice from the back. “Let you be known from this time on as The Lord Dethroner, for no king shall stand before you! Any man, woman, or child that fails to call you so, will be sent to hell. You are our Lord, and not one life shall live, but by your will.” The man speaking pushed his way to the front and addressed the boy face to face. He carried a scar over his left eye, and wore a black beard, twisted into a braid. — Excerpt from A Sailor’s Tale of Tenebris, as told by Callos Histos. The ground was a slough. Armor sunk in, falling, and slipping, but the soldiers were pushed on by a whip. Kel spun and moved through the soldiers, constantly stabbing and slicing. Men fell, groaning in agony, few dead, but many wounded. He swept through them like a gust of wind, leaving chaos in his wake. But even love can’t carry one forever. Thrusting the dagger forward, Kel slipped, falling to the ground. Water splashed up in his face and mud flew in his eyes. Rolling, he kicked and fought back to his feet, but a hard shield rammed him from behind. Hardened wood struck bone, skin split on rivets, and blood seeped through the linen shirt. After being thrown down, iron hands grabbed him, and held him up. A bugle sounded, and men called out that the defier was taken. Several minutes passed as they held him, pressing a sword to his neck. Minutes later, the ranks parted and there came a man in imposing armor, with a two handed broadsword over his shoulder, and a great, horned chieftain’s helmet on his head. Walking just behind and to the right was a man with grey hair, whose beard twisted down into a long braid. A pale scar ran above his left eyebrow. The man in front spoke, his voice like thunder: “So now I get to meet the stumbling block of my army.” He smiled, anger hiding behind his grey eyes. “Your willingness to fight is rare. You are the only one that decided to try and stop me. But there’s one thing you don’t understand… I won’t stop. You fight for love, but love is something to be lost. I can’t lose it; I’ve already lost all there is to lose. It was taught to me very long ago that mercy, peace, joy... and love, are not things which will come by while you wait, you can’t count on them. They must be brought in. So I’ve decided to step up and do it. I will be the sword, but I will also be the peace. I will bring justice, but there also will be mercy. I will bring order to the chaos. Darkness will be smoldered out. And you, standing in my way are fighting that. I offer these things, and you fight back?” The man leaned forward. “You have one last chance to aid this cause.” Kel was lifted from his feet as the chieftain stooped down and picked up the bloody dagger known to many of the soldiers as their death. Finally, pulling the strength from his tired muscles, Kel spoke: “In the days after creation, this world Ildathore was beautiful. Only love and joy lived therein.” Lifting his head, Kel let a cold fire burn in his eyes. “But something happened. The beast, dragon, became jealous of something that was given only to man. So it chose to make man pay, it killed the firstborn of Ila our mother. Man saw what had happened, and grew hateful. He hunted the dragon, and threw it down. But he didn’t stop there. When confronted by the Creator, man said he was restoring order where creation had failed. But it was not so. It was hate—” Kel’s words were cut short as his own knife was driven into his heart. The Dethroner moved his face very close.“I have lost everything!” he hissed. A burning began around the wound and Kel took a sharp breath. “Then what do you have to give?” he gasped. The land of Tenebris stayed under the dark clouds. But though he tried, The Dethroner never completely extinguished the light. His storm of revenge continues over Tenebris, but ever hope endures in the hearts of some, looking to the light of what they had and still have. Life… and love. — Excerpt from A Sailor’s Tale of Tenebris, as told by Callos Histos. Written by Buddy J. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room
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The time to mourn is not now. Drawing the fletched shaft back to his cheek, Kel let out one last tear, one last shudder, before releasing. They made a choice. The string slipped from his calloused fingers, sending the arrow off its rest, speeding away. The hard iron tip flew between darkwood trees and thunked into its target.
The armored figure he’d known as Uncle Giles crumpled to the ground, an aspen shaft sticking from his neck. Shouts arose and the entire army stopped. Bugles sounded and every man turned to face their enemy, the archer. Shields locked and spears bristled. “Give me the man called Dethroner!” Kel yelled. “The man you call ‘lord.’ The demon you sacrifice your future to is mine. If you don’t give him, I’ll kill each one of you, just to run an arrow through his throat.” Wiping his face of any sadness, Kel looked each soldier in the eye; men he’d known as friend, neighbor, and towns folk. “You may say I’m only one man, but I tell you I am one man fighting for love. Nay you shall not have me, I shall have you. Let it not be said that a single one of you made it to the next town while I still stood!” For many a second, not a sound was made. Trees no longer creaked, leaves stopped whispering, and birds went silent. The black cloud overhead darkened, getting heavier by the passing. As the clouds overhead darkened, a bugle blew, three short blasts. As one, the armoured wall began inching forward, closing in. Drawing another shaft, Kel thought of the old poem. Ever in darkness, always no light. The sky is clouded, we ever must fight. He let the arrow fly and its cold tip whispered, flickering through the trees. The razor sharp head struck its target, sinking in between two shields. A man’s shriek of pain split the air and the wall’s pace doubled. Lightning struck in the dimness and thunder roared. The clouds became too heavy and let loose. First only a trickle, but then a flood. Metal joints squeaked and faces dripped with sweat and water, while the ground turned to mud. Kel unclasped his soaking cloak. Anyone caring to count would have seen twenty eight arrows bristling from the right shoulder. A dagger was strapped to his calf. He drew the next shaft, setting his stance, prepared to meet the foe. From the towering flames of a burning home, many years ago, stepped a boy of fourteen. In his left hand was an empty helmet, and in his right a sword near as tall as himself, dragged on the ground. The soldiers stood, frozen with shock. The boy had killed their chieftain, whose helmet was now being thrown at their feet. Then grabbing the massive sword with both hands, he raised it over his head and yelled. Clouds formed over the smokey sky…. Dark clouds. The yell turned to words, and at the them, those in the dark armor trembled, falling to one knee, in hope to live. “You barbarians of Tenebris live that others might die! I tell you now that he who lives by the sword will die by the sword… the ones that chase after land and lives shall find theirs taken.” The clouds grew heavy, and let forth a torrent. “I will not execute you here, no… I will not execute you at all, but you will die by the sword, and those of your own country. We will sail west to the land you call home. It will be mine, and you will take it for me. We will go first unto your king; his crown shall be mine. And then, I will show the whole world my mercy. Mercy you have never shown.” None dared challenge the boy, who called upon the strength of the storm to face his adversaries. — Excerpt from A Sailor’s Tale of Tenebris, as told by Callos Histos. Kel drew his second to last shaft. Pulling it back to his cheek, he breathed in, choosing a target. The army had pushed him back, but that was fine. So long as they’re moving away from the next town. The sharp tip swayed, pointing at the mayor. Of my own town. He released, and the arrow wisped off burying itself between two armor plates. Reaching back to draw the last arrow, he paused. That one’s for someone in particular. The man that ravaged this land for so long, while we hid low in our little town, hoping never to be found. He found us, and killed the children… the women… the men of the town gave in and joined. I’ll fight my way through an army to get to him. Reaching up, he folded the cover over the last arrow, then dropped his hand down and clasped the solid handle of his dagger. It slid from the sheath, dripping wet, razor sharp, and glimmering in what little light there was. Written by Buddy J. Edited by The Flabbits Copyright © 2018 by The Flabbit Room |
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