The Legend of Darien: A Hero Rises
By Lauren C. Mayher
Published by Lauren C. Mayher at Smashwords
Copyright © 2010 Lauren C. Mayher
This book is available in print at your local bookstore or purchased through the The Legend of Darien official website.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover art design by Arbor Books, Inc. Owned by Lauren C. Mayher
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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This book is dedicated to my parents for being my best critics and for always supporting me with everything in life.
And to my sisters who used to say I would end up living in a bookstore bathroom.
~~~~~
Chapter 1
The land of Monahelm is a mystical land full of dragons, ogres, imps, and, yes, even humans. Its numerous hills, mountains, and vast oceans provide personality for the land and its inhabitants. Various kingdoms have been built and have remained the dominant means of rule for as long as recorded history. However, the largest and most powerful kingdom is Hemlon, named after the God of Knowledge. Although peaceful in the first days of Monahelm’s creation, battles and wars have plagued the land for the usual reasons: money and power. But the Hemlon Kingdom has remained strong, thanks to the protection of the gods and the loyal knights that serve this kingdom and its territories.
Magic is found in limited quantities throughout the land. Only dragons and Trendol, the traveling land of the imps, are thought to possess it. Also scattered are secrets of ancient lore and mystical weapons that only the worthy are able to find. Ancient stories are told of many heroes finding and utilizing these powerful and supernatural items. Over the years, they only become myth or legend to the disappointment of many hopefuls.
Presently, in the world of Monahelm, it is a dark and violent time. Its inhabitants have never seen such harsh battles as the ones currently being fought, especially the one involving the Kingdom of Hemlon. These wars stem from the poor conditions of the people. Many villages have become poverty-stricken due to oppressive new laws and higher taxes created by Hemlon’s ruler, King Gronte. Dungeons have become so full that some prisoners are being put to death for petty crimes such as stealing or writing scandalous postings. Fires have engulfed and destroyed towns and forests, and many creatures are becoming extinct as gaming laws have become relaxed. Additionally, due to the miserable state the humans have found themselves in, dark dragons have scorched the land and ravaged kingdoms and villages, taking out some of Monahelm’s most powerful rulers.
Death has become common to many, and everyone is in desperate need of a savior.
There is little hope that a mythical warrior will become a reality.
Whatever hope is left, it lies with Darien the Dragonslayer.
For almost a thousand years, many accounts of this hero’s story have been told. But some facts remain consistent throughout all versions of this legend. This noble and courageous knight is to slay hundreds of dragons and save towns, villages, and kingdoms from destruction. He also possesses the necessary abilities to find some of the lost treasures that the gods and spiritual forces have hidden throughout Monahelm. But the greatest deed of all will be to defend the Kingdom of Hemlon and the rest of the world from an evil power that the world has come to know as Loviss.
In order to understand unfolding events, Monahelm’s past must be told…
~~~~~
A long time ago, two powerful entities gathered in the nothingness of space. One is called Heghviss, the lighter of the two entities, and the other is Loviss, the darker one. Together, their powers became so strong that an entire planet was created: Monahelm. Both powers came to understand that the world was theirs to create what they saw fit. Thus, Heghviss and Loviss created the various beings that inhabit the land, plants and creatures that they could feed off of, waters to bathe and drink from, and fire to warm themselves. The grass was greener than anyone today could ever imagine, waters were the brightest blues with the healthiest vitamins and minerals, and the sky was a mixture of the starry night sky with a sunset of purple and orange below it. The sun and moon, like brother and sister, shared the sky with one another.
Indeed, there was peace and beauty.
However, once everything in Monahelm was in its place, a dispute grew between how to rule the living beings. On the one side, Heghviss felt that the reason the two of them were there was so that they could watch over the people. The people should be allowed to live freely and would sometimes be helped by Heghviss and Loviss when it was necessary.
Loviss was firmly against this and believed that if things were run Heghviss’ way, people would take everything they had for granted. If the people did take their lives for granted or forget who actually created them, they should suffer the consequences. Loviss also believed the two of them would gain massive amounts of power if the people worshipped them.
Heghviss did not think it was right to manipulate their creations like that and tried to convince its counterpart otherwise. As Loviss was about to demonstrate the power which the two of them contained, Heghviss stopped it with its own power.
That was how the first great battle came about. The giant gray mass of Heghviss and Loviss that surrounded and provided a shield for Monahelm was now split in two—light on one side, dark on the other. Monahelm, caught in the middle, experienced some of the greatest—and most destructive—powers anyone could possibly think of.
This chaos continued over a century. Finally, as a desperate attempt to defeat Loviss, Heghviss decided to do something that would practically destroy its own individual existence: it split into three. That was how Monahelm’s three gods were born: Hemlon, the God of Knowledge; Lurinia, the Goddess of Serenity; and Peltor, the God of Power. Only together do the Heghviss Gods equal the power of Heghviss, although individually they are strong in power and influence.
The three new gods attacked Loviss from multiple sides in order to prevent Loviss’ power from being concentrated to one major point. After a short while, Loviss was defeated. As much as the gods felt compelled to destroy Loviss, they knew they could not. If that was to occur, Monahelm would be destroyed, since it was created from both entities. They limited Loviss’ power as much as they could, however. Now, the only remnants of Loviss are the night, its violent crimes and murders, and terrible battles with fires that are used for destruction and not for warmth. Those were Loviss’ domains. It would take more than just the gods’ powers to stop all of that.
Loviss was right about one thing though: worship from their creations is what gave the gods their powers. While this was unforeseen, the Heghviss Gods continued to handle things differently from Loviss. The power they gained from the peoples’ worship was used in return to help them. Although most worship the Heghviss Gods, there are still some that worship Loviss and its dark powers. What these groups do not know is that if the darker entity had its way, it would manipulate everything and destroy life as easily as it created it. Hemlon, Lurinia, and Peltor tried to take it upon themselves to make sure that Loviss would never be able to rule the land.
In time, the Heghviss Gods and Loviss became aware of another development. When Heghviss and Loviss were one, they had the gift of all-knowing—past, present, and future. Upon their separation, this divine aspect held by most gods in the universe was taken away from them and set as a separate influence: The Messengers. These spiritual forces are named as such because they deliver messages by inhabiting the minds and bodies of select people.
These people are able to see things before they happen. Because of this, others credit them with having divine influence. The destinies they tell sometimes take the form of famous tales and legends. Although it seems these destinies are predetermined, people always have a chance to change their destiny…and the destiny of others. Yet, only in rare circumstances could this occur.
Without the gift held by the Messengers, the Heghviss Gods cannot foresee what will happen, and are therefore vulnerable to errors in judgment. The people, unaware of this major flaw, continue to worship Hemlon, Lurinia, and Peltor as powerful, all-knowing gods.
Over time, many on Monahelm would begin to doubt many of the stories and legends passed on by those with the gift of the Messengers. They felt these so-called oracles were nothing but storytellers or liars. What most did not know was that these stories may have come and gone without much notice or they may take time to be fulfilled. One of these stories tells how Loviss will one day rise up again to try and take control of the people of Monahelm and all of the wonderful things it once helped to create.
That is how the tale of Darien the Dragonslayer came about. Most people used to believe that such a person would stand up and defend them in the face of a dark and miserable existence. As years passed, new details of his journey began to emerge. One includes a person who has been given almost equal status with Darien. He is only referred to as “the Usurper.”
Even though his title is negative in definition, the Usurper is far from evil. He will be born a younger heir to the Hemlon crown. His older brother will inherit the throne first and will become the third prophesized figure known as the Dark-Hearted Prince. Loviss will persuade the ruthless and cruel Dark-Hearted Prince to go by its rules and beliefs. The elder prince will eventually welcome the evil Loviss into his heart and, because of this, will give Loviss its power to return to Monahelm.
The Usurper, angered by his brother’s devotion to Loviss, will unite with Darien to stop the peoples’ pain, torture, and suffering. Together, they will gather a grand army to attack the Dark-Hearted Prince and Loviss in order to save Monahelm.
No one knows why so many people claim to have seen a vision about Darien and his adventures. Some guess it is because it gave people hope to a better future. Maybe it is because Darien is that mythical hero that everyone aspires to be. Or maybe it is just because people cannot come up with unique ideas anymore. Whatever the reason, Darien, his dragons, and a power-hungry prince all became a grand mythical legend as time passed.
But for some reason, the gods knew better. They have been able to distinguish between made-up stories and those that were delivered from a Messenger. Hemlon, Lurinia, and Peltor scrutinized the land and people to see if something would change. All they knew was that the Usurper would be born the same day as Darien. They kept track of the younger sons of the Hemlon throne in the hope that a mother and father in a village called Frengrain would name their child Darien.
There is one other thing that the gods and people have become discouraged about: a prophesized end of Monahelm. Found at the end of all Darien stories are these lines:
Fire will destroy the earth;
The guiding star will fade.
But from out of the ashes—
Monahelm is anew!
Light restored to the ones who need it most.
Scholars have debated the meaning of this passage since its first version. Some say it calls for an end of days when everyone will join in one large mass and return to become part of Heghviss. Others feel it talks of the afterlife and those that keep good in their hearts will be the only ones who are able to enter. Then, there are others who feel it merely refers to a fire destroying the Hemlon castle, the Dark-Hearted Prince being killed, with the Usurper prince leading the new Monahelm. Not even the gods know the exact meaning of the passage. Hemlon, the wisest of the three gods, has tried for centuries to figure out what it could mean. He also begged the Messengers to tell him, but they remained silent.
As the tale of Darien gradually changed from one story to another, the gods each anointed their own magical sages who would protect and guide those prophesized in the Darien legend. In this way, they hoped that Darien and the Usurper would be led down the right paths—and the Dark-Hearted Prince deterred from his. The sages’ identities throughout the generations have been kept hidden, and the people of Monahelm do not even know that they exist.
So it is with much mystery that the stories and courageous deeds of Darien are still questioned. Little did anyone know that what was foretold thousands of years ago is finally beginning…
~~~~~
Chapter 2
Trin had been traveling for several days now. It was an intense trip with only one unfortunate event, but that was taken care of. Right now, his only focus was finishing what he was sent to do. Everything was proceeding as planned.
The mission is almost complete, he thought to himself. The Almighty will be pleased. He looked down at the thing he was sent to retrieve.
A boy. The infant started to get restless, which was not surprising with the brutal shaking that the horse created for both riders. Trin placed the milk bottle in his mouth just for a few seconds. When he took it away, the child started to cry.
“There, there,” Trin said mockingly. “No need to cry. Soon, there will be a new family for you. A very famous and powerful family. A family that will keep you from causing problems in the future.” As the horse finally made his way to the top of the hill, Trin pulled back on the reigns to stop it from moving. The hill overlooked the most powerful kingdom in the land: Hemlon. It was the largest, occupying more than several thousand individuals if one included the royal family and those that worked in the palace. A town situated inside the larger wall of the kingdom contained rather small houses, some with two stories and others with one. For the small size, people were still willing to pay the high price to live there for the protection the kingdom provided. At the southern end of the kingdom was the infamous stone structure known as Hemlon Castle that was surrounded by an additional wall at three sides with the fourth wall being part of the exterior wall. The castle contained more than a hundred rooms and was more than a dozen stories high. Several towers decorated the corners and sides of the castle, with battlements littered along the top to allow archers to shoot from. Indeed, this kingdom was magnificent.
At this time, there were very few lights still on inside the walls, both castle and town. Torches were still ablaze around the lookout towers and the entrance to the castle. Trin pulled out his small telescope and viewed the top of the castle. There were several guards on duty, each taking turns to take a short nap while the others paced around, bored out of their minds. Although they were bored, Trin knew as much as anyone who worked inside the palace that those guards saw practically everything—which is why he held back for a moment. He was not to advance until the signal was given. He put his telescope back into the inside pocket of his robe and waited.
Trin was in his twentieth year and was relatively new to the world of magic. He had handsome features with dark eyes that could penetrate into anyone he talked to, except for that of his master. His teacher discovered his willingness to worship Loviss when he was a mere teenager trying to survive in Hemlon’s town, working in the horse stables. It was the Loviss priest that looked at him more than just who he was and took him up as his student. It was impossible to obtain his master’s powers, but he was able to perform minor spells only when his teacher was using his magic. When Trin was told he would play a great part in the future that would alter the world forever, he took pride at having been given the honor of participating. And now the day they had prepared for years has finally come, and in a number of years, Trin would be known throughout the land.
Suddenly behind the rear wall, a red flash of fire shot up, even higher than the castle itself. He could see the tiny guards frantically moving about and shouting orders to the guards that were below to check the woods behind the castle walls.
Trin smiled. He traveled to the opposite end of the kingdom that the fire appeared—what he was supposed to do. The baby started to cry again, but that did not matter right now. All the guards were taking care of the fire that occurred close to the king’s domain. Trin found it ironic that an even bigger event was taking place on the opposite side of the kingdom in the northern woods.
As he and the infant moved deeper into the woods, Trin stopped the horse again and dismounted. The infant was still wailing. As he was looking around, Trin whispered to the child, “Will you be quiet? By the gods, you have already caused nothing but problems!” He glared down at the child who did not stop to his command. “Did you hear me? I told you to SHUT UP!” He brought his hand up to hit the boy.
“Tisk tisk, Trin,” came a voice from behind. “Better be careful how you handle that one. He may remember that when he’s old enough.”
Trin turned around quickly to the two hooded figures, with one getting off from his horse. “I’m…I’m sorry, my Lord!” Trin stammered. “I did not want you to see that.” He brought himself to one knee and bowed his head to the ground. “I have brought the child, just as you asked.”
The taller figure who had just spoken to him slowly glided toward Trin and the crying baby. “How dare you keep me waiting, Trin!” the voice boomed.
“My Almighty,” he said with shaking in his voice, “I did what you commanded as fast as I could! This child was in a village further than most others nearby and his parents put up such a fight…If I have done anything—”
The voice chuckled. “My dear servant,” he said soothingly, “I was only having a little fun with you! Please, stand up.”
Trin slowly arose and passed the child over to the figure that was still hooded. As he took the child gently into his arms, the baby stopped crying. The cloaked-being paused and looked at Trin’s direction. “Trin, you’re injured.”
The servant reached up and touched his cheek. He felt the dried blood from the gash he had received. “I thank you for the concern, your worship, but I am fine. It was worth it for this enormous honor.”
“Sick way of looking at it,” the worshipped person muttered to himself. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”
The other figure now had his hood removed and came next to Trin. It was Vrenot, Trin’s mentor. Vrenot was in his late forties and had been working inside of the castle since he was Trin’s age. He was considered the kingdom’s most trusted Hemlon priest— “Such fools,” Vrenot would commonly say of them. He carried a staff that contained his power. It was made of hardened, black lava which was completely smooth so it made any light bounce off of it with a spectacular gleam. Embedded into it were various gems of all different colors, but it was the top of his staff that was the most interesting and beautiful: a large, flame-shaped orange stone that always glowed, most of the time dimmed. It contained part of his soul and was the source of the power he could conjure.
But his focus was not on this fascinating object. Tonight began the event that would grant him immense power in the future by the god that was shunned by the one he pretends to ultimately serve. He took his duty with extreme dedication and made sure everything was perfect leading up to this night. He looked down into his own arms at another child they had captured.
“So these are the two that were prophesized so long ago,” Vrenot whispered in amazement. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Well, um, night,” the hooded figure said as he took notice of the sky. He then returned to stroking the child’s head and stared into his eyes. “Darien, the Dragonslayer. You were to be the one that would lead the rebellion against the Dark-Hearted Prince and would save the life of the other that lies in Vrenot’s arms.” The baby cooed and was continuing to stare up into the dark hood.
Vrenot looked down at his own bundle. “And you’re the Usurper prince.” He then addressed the figure. “My Lord, why is it that we cannot kill both of them and destroy this prophecy?”
“Unfortunately, killing a baby’s soul is infinitely damn-worthy,” the figure said matter-of-factly. “I know that’s not saying much considering where I have resided these past few thousand years, but if I want any shot of being restored to my former glory, we have to refrain from killing these children. There are other forces besides us three gods at work here.” He looked back at the child. “But don’t worry my little friend…” He removed his hood so violently, that he almost ripped it from the seams. The child could now see his face. “You will be killed eventually, no matter what the prophecy states.”
Darien’s eyes widened and he started to fearfully cry. Most would do the same if they saw a human-like figure with a wolf head. The God of Power, known as Peltor, laughed with his fanged snout. His dark-brown fur stood straight up as a dog’s when ready to attack. His blood-red eyes stared angrily, but excitedly, at the infant he held. In response to Darien’s cries, the other baby started to wail, too.
“Aw, I’m sorry, Prince Aernon, did I leave you out?” Peltor snarled and quickly darted over to the other baby who began to cry even louder. He snapped his jaws at the child, taunting him.
“If you don’t shut them up, the guards will come over here!” Trin snapped. He regretted saying that as soon as it slipped his tongue.
Peltor looked over at Trin. “Vrenot? You haven’t been teaching him to talk back to an all-powerful god, have you?”
“Of course not, your mighty!” Vrenot said. “I’m sure he was addressing me to do something. Isn’t that right, Trin?” He was so mad at his student that he could have killed him—if Peltor did not do so first.
Trin nodded his head tremendously, but averted Peltor’s gaze.
“I’m sure he wasn’t, but I’ll just pretend I’m a moron just this one time.”
“You’re n-not even close to being a m-m-moron, Peltor!” Trin stuttered. “You should know you are the greatest of the three gods!”
“Trin, just stop. I got it. But, yes, I’m not one for modesty, so you would be correct. Look at what has transpired so far: I have the Dragonslayer and the Usurper and my plans have yet to be foiled by Hemlon and Lurinia. Now all I have to do is get these two to stop crying and we’ll be—”
Suddenly, a man darted out of nearby shrubs toward Vrenot and snatched the Usurper from his hands. He pushed the two priests out of the way and hit Trin’s horse on his behind which made the horse begin to run. The man hopped on it and started to gallop away.
Peltor snarled and freed a hand. He cast his fingers toward the stranger, but nothing came forth from them. “Damn it! I forget my powers don’t work here!”
“Don’t worry, Lord Peltor,” Vrenot said with a smirk. “I’ll get him!” He jumped onto the horse that he had supplied Peltor with and took off in the man’s direction away from the kingdom.
Peltor came up next to Trin and stared out after his most faithful servant. He gave a low growl. “Hemlon and Lurinia will pay for what they have done to me!” he muttered. “Here,” he said to Trin as he handed over Darien, “take him into the Usurper’s bed chamber.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“No one should be able to figure out that the child is switched. He will be raised as a brother to the prince he was at one time born to kill in the future. Ironic, don’t you think?” He put his hood up and started walking the opposite way of the two riders. “You won’t disappoint me, will you, Trin?”
“Never, Lord Peltor. But tell me this stranger won’t ruin any of your plans. What if he escapes?”
Peltor gave a quick glance back at Trin, and smiled. “Hopefully, Vrenot will catch the thief and we will have nothing to worry about. However, as long as we have at least one of them in our sights, we can still change things. Vrenot knows what to do at a later time. Both—or at least one of them—will never grow up to fulfill their destiny. It stops when both reach their eighteenth year. It will not be long after that I will return to rule this world and you will be there to help rule it with me. Glory will be ours!”
“I thank you, my Lord!”
“You will not be seeing me until the Dark-Hearted Prince restores me to what I was like in the heavens. I was only granted this one time ticket to this earth. I am too weak to roam here. But you will be hearing from me and I will always be with you.”
“Thank you, Great Peltor! I look forward to hearing your voice again soon!” He went back again to one knee.
Peltor continued to smile until he turned around then rolled his eyes. “Why is everyone so obnoxious when they praise me?” And the all-powerful god walked out of the woods toward the entrance to his void.
~~~~~
Vrenot followed closely after the baby and abductor. They had already traveled out of the woods surrounding the kingdom and were riding along the hilly terrain. The stranger darted the horse back and forth to slow down the warlock. Giving up on trying attacking him at close range, Vrenot finally pulled out his staff. He sneered as he pointed his fire-shaped stone directly at the intruder. A large ball of fire emulated from it, but it missed the man and landed onto the field and started to burn a small area of the ground. Vrenot could almost feel the person’s fear, and he shot another one at him. The man ducked underneath the fireball as it overshot him. The warlock clutched his staff in frustration.
“This ends now!” He kept his balance on his horse and grabbed the staff with both hands. He placed it above him and was ready to strike when he saw the man turn around. Vrenot paused shortly as he got a shot of the stranger’s face. He recognized it somehow. But his thoughts were interrupted when he caught a glimpse of the child in one arm and in the other a…crossbow?
The man shot at Vrenot. Vrenot tried to use the power he was going to cast at the stranger at the arrow instead, but it was too late—it struck his horse. The horse made a horrible sound and reared onto its hind legs. He yelled as he fell backwards off the beast. As it started to come down on top of him, Vrenot quickly created a powerful blast from his staff so it directed the lifeless body to have it land away from him.
Slowly, he got up and stared out into the night at the rider. He was too far away now to do anything to stop him. “You may think that you saved the day,” Vrenot muttered toward the abductor, “but we still have the main protagonist. This is just the beginning.”
~~~~~
Chapter 3
Almost eighteen years later…
Verina’s eyes were shut tightly as she could feel the prince’s lips gently kissing hers. He pressed her against the wall of the castle with his hands wrapped around her waist. She broke them apart suddenly. “I’m sorry, Aernon,” she gasped.
“Don’t be sorry,” said Aernon. “Just…kiss.” He leaned toward her again.
“No!” She walked away from the stone wall that she had been against. “You know that our fathers can’t know about this, so if anyone sees us—”
“What’s the big deal? I’m a prince, you’re a princess. It all checks out.”
“But…you’re second in line,” she said as she turned to face him. “We’ve been through this. Your brother will inherit the throne, and he’s the one with the power that my father is thinking about. The official merger of our two kingdoms will be beneficial to everyone. This is a big deal with the war going on.”
“My dear, Verina,” Aernon said as he came close to her and brushed her cheek, “you worry too much. Yes, I may not have Bayron’s power, but our friendship goes back into our childhoods. There’s trust, loyalty…” He paused and looked deeply into her gray eyes. “…and devotion.” He went to kiss her again.
She darted away from him again toward one of the benches. Aernon rolled his eyes and looked to the heavens. Why are women so difficult?
“All I’m saying, Aernon,” she said as she sat down, “is that we should wait. I don’t know what my father’s intentions are at this moment. He could be fine. But, like I said, with the war against the Kingdom of Crenya currently going on, it’s possible that you’ll be sent to lead the armies instead of ruling Hemlon.” Tears started to fill her eyes. “And I don’t know if I would be able to handle worrying about you everyday while you’re out there fighting.”
Aernon sat down next to her. “Hey, don’t be this way. Nothing is set in stone yet. Besides, the law states that I can’t be a part of any battle until I turn eighteen—”
“But that’s two days from now!”
He thought about it for a moment. “Right. Okay, that is true. Bad example. But my father wouldn’t send me off to war so soon after my birthday. He’ll give me some time. I have to go through the battle plans, types of weaponry—”
Verina put her face onto his shoulder and began to cry more.
“Alright, alright!” He lifted her off him and wiped the tears from her face. “Look, I’m not being really good with words here. History and ways to tell someone that you’re not going to die in war weren’t my two greatest subjects.”
She gave a small smile, but was still upset. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time, Aernon. I love you.”
Aernon didn’t respond.
She continued. “In a way, I always felt like we are destined…somehow. When we first met, there was this ‘feeling’ that you and I were supposed to be together. Since I was young, I didn’t think anything of it. I just figured it was because I enjoyed your company and we had fun together. But now I see that it’s much more than that.” She paused and looked into his face. “Aernon?”
He just stared at her, as if shocked. He blinked. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Destined. Love you too.” He kissed her quickly on top of her wavy brown hair.
“Were you even listening at all?”
Aernon panicked. “Well, um, actually…I was thinking about today being the new year and all.”
“It’s not the new year! That’s months from now!”
“On the contrary,” he said with a grin, “it’s the first day of spring. You know what that means.” He kissed her hands. “Love.” He kissed her on the neck. “Passion.” He kissed her lips. “Desire.”
“What’s with the three item mentioning today? A little obsessed much, aren’t we now?” she laughed.
“Now you can see why I wasn’t paying attention.” He brought his hand slowly to her neck and pulled her close to him and kissed her again. This time, Verina did not push away. She welcomed the affection that her prince gave.
“Verina! Come! It’s time to go!” her father called from inside the palace.
Now she pushed. “I hope no one saw…”
“Will you please calm down? No one saw us.” He looked at her with his penetrating green eyes. “I will see you again on my birthday.”
“If my father has anything to say about that,” she muttered jokingly. She kissed him once more and then got up. “Enjoy the ‘new year.’”
“Mmm…probably not anymore. You’re leaving as soon as I declared it a holiday!”
She smiled at him and began walking up the steps. “Oh, and Aernon?”
“Yes?”
“Do try to work on that obsession of yours, will you? I don’t want to have to come in secret to cure it.”
He laughed. “Don’t tempt me!”
Aernon and Verina locked eyes with each other as she ascended the stairs. When she was out of sight, he waited a few moments and then leaned his head forward into his hands. “Wasn’t expecting that one.”
“I could.”
Aernon turned around to see his bodyguard, Maxwell, leaning against the side of the castle wall. He was a large character—more than six feet tall and seeming to weigh as much as a boulder. He was about ten years older, so Aernon’s childhood fantasies sometimes revolved around Maxwell battling dragons with his own two hands and pulling his father’s carriage all by himself. But the prince knew that in the end he was extremely loyal and protective. He was glad to be on his good side. He also provided great company.
But he did not welcome it now. “Okay, you do know that when I’m with a girl, you shouldn’t be watching.”
“Oh, but they’re the ones I have to be the most careful about. They seem so sweet and unpredictable then they eventually rip the rug out from under ya’ and take everything you got!”
“You didn’t get much play with the ladies, did you?”
“I think they’re scared that I’d rip their arms off,” Maxwell said as he looked at his muscles.
Aernon laughed as he got off the bench. “I wish I could say I’m surprised by that, but then I remember that I get scared by your muscles, too.”
They started walking around the paths of the courtyard. The courtyard was beautiful: an enormous space with many types of trees that were cut on a regular basis into different shapes, and the flowers had too many colors to even fathom. There were several fountains with designs adorning the center of them, including those of lions—the symbol of the god Hemlon. There were many stone pathways with some leading into private areas to relax, pray, or do whatever one wished to do there—some things that Aernon would not dare tell anyone else.
“Alright, you sneaky little pervert,” Aernon said, “what made you suspect that she would pull the whole ‘I love you’ phrase?”
“It’s the hopeless romantic in me, what can I say? When you read a lot of stories and poetry in your spare time—and I’ll have you know I have loads of time when Verina or any other female stays in Hemlon for awhile—you pick up a few things here and there.” Maxwell looked over to his prince and saw a sly smile on his face.
“Like?” Aernon asked, not commenting on his past personal escapades.
“Well, aside from saying you-know-what, she has given you subtle clues in the past.”
“Will you get on with it? I’m growing impatient here.”
“Like saying, ‘I wish I could stay here longer,’ or ‘I want to get married in the biggest church in the land,’ or ‘When we have a child together, let’s name him George.’”
“She never said that last one!”
“Well, she damn well thinks about it! Look, you guys have been friends since you were both young. Pushing each other in the fountains, playing all the kid games—she has a greater history with you more than any other girl you’ve met. Her feelings are genuine. A girl cares a lot about you if she pulls away from a kiss she thinks about all the time in order not to jeopardize that relationship. If a girl is actually willing to be caught, there is something in it for her. She would make it so that someone would see her with you. Verina cares about you so much that losing you in any way would break her heart.”
“Okay, Sir Softy, I think you may want to slow down with those romance novels. I think you’ve proven your point. But I just don’t know, Max.”
“Don’t know what? If you’re still confused about how she feels then I really don’t feel like elaborating on it.”
“No. I get it. She loves me more than the power…blah blah blah. However, it’s me that I’m unsure of. I should be thrilled of all the women that I’ve…you know…that she should be the one that beyond a doubt I want to marry. I would want her for my wife. She keeps me levelheaded—within reasoning—and I trust her more than any other person in my life.”
“Gee, thanks,” Maxwell said amusingly.
“Yes, I dream about you and our little make-out sessions,” Aernon joked back. “Seriously though, I pretty much know everything about her. But I just don’t know if I love her as much as she loves me. Something feels off about the whole thing. Something is holding me back from wanting anything more than what we currently have.”
“So you’re using her for pleasure?”
“I’m not that crude…” He paused. “Well, I don’t use her for pleasure, but that’s not the point. In a way, I do love her, I miss her when she’s not here, but I don’t know if it’s the same type of love that she has for me.”
“Yeah, I’m putting my money on ‘no.’”
“Besides, like she pointed out, it’s not like I’m inheriting the throne anytime soon. There’s no need to worry about marriage right now. I have more important things to worry about.”
“Like what?!” Maxwell exclaimed.
Aernon did not say anything for some time. “Oh! There’s my birthday coming up!”
“Yes. I’m sure you have so much to plan for that one day of your entire life that will be over and done with by next week and that you don’t even have to do anything for it except show up.”
“Hey, it’s a big one this year. This isn’t just your average birthday. I have to do the whole initiation rights into adulthood thing. I have to know the right things to say, when to say them, and not to mention being stuck in a room with a bunch of priests from around the land to tell me the various things I should do as an adult.”
“Which I’m sure you won’t be following even into your death.”
“Would it kill you to give me a little credit here?”
“I only speak the truth,” he said smiling.
They made their way over to the western wall. There, Aernon and Maxwell saw the king’s elder son, Bayron, sparring with his own bodyguard, Purown, on the playing court. Purown was a bit larger than Maxwell—if that was possible—but this was no surprise with Bayron being the immediate heir to Hemlon.
Bayron had the look for a prince. He had long blonde hair that was usually tied back in a ponytail, unlike Aernon’s short brown hair. His body was slim, but toned and he had the face that would please any female, if the power did not please them first. As much as Aernon loved his brother, he found him to be extremely cocky and pushy. He bragged about the most insignificant accomplishments and would make it known to everyone about them. However, Aernon felt he knew the reasons why he did so.
“Ah! The birthday boy!” Bayron called out in the middle of the fight. “Haven’t seen you for a couple of hours.”
“I was, um, hanging with Verina. You know, talking…”
“Talking? Is that what people call it nowadays?” Purown suddenly made a downward motion with his sword which Bayron quickly blocked. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he said with a smile.
Aernon shot a quick glance to Maxwell, at which he shrugged in response.
“I guess so.”
“Wonderful!” Bayron moved forward and tried hitting his guard from the side, but his sword got nothing but the shield. “Care for a fight, little brother?”
Aernon’s eyes slowly moved upwards to the balcony overlooking the playing court. His father stood there, not trying to make his presence known to anyone below. But he and Aernon’s eyes met, and they were expressionless.
“No, Bayron,” Aernon said, bringing his eyes back to ground level. “I think I’m just going to go to my room to relax for a bit.”
“No way! You can’t back out on this one. You’re just afraid I can take you.”
Aernon paused, trying his best not to look at his father. He hated when this happened. “You’re right. I know you’re just too good for me, so no bother trying.”
“Aernon!” his father’s voice boomed from above.
Both King Gronte’s sons looked up.
“Fight your brother,” he commanded.
Knew that was coming, Aernon thought to himself. “As you wish, Father.” He walked over to Purown and he collected his sword and shield. Purown moved next to Maxwell.
“Bet you ten marlues that my prince will beat your’s,” Purown whispered to Maxwell with a greedy grin.
“No deal. You know why.”
Bayron smiled as his brother got into battle position. “My sparring teacher has taught me some new moves. You wouldn’t mind if I tried them out on you?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Aernon said half-heartedly.
They stared at each other, walking around in circles for a little while. Bayron’s face was alit with pleasure whereas Aernon’s face was deadpan. Finally, Bayron charged at him with his sword, striking down. Aernon blocked it with his own sword and went to defense. With no hesitation, Bayron made another movement again, this time moving his sword back and forth, with his brother either blocking it with shield or sword. Aernon then used his shield to push Bayron away, and moved to offense. He swung his sword from up to down, left to right with Bayron blocking each time.
Aernon was moving so fast and so forceful that he did not realize that he had moved Bayron right up against the courtyard wall. When he discovered this, he delayed his next movement for a few seconds. During that time, Bayron went back to offense and tried to lance his sword into Aernon’s stomach, which was blocked once again.
King Gronte watched his children moving about, their swords glowing. The sound of steel-on-steel made his blood boil with the thrill of a fight. But he watched Aernon closely, as he always did.
“What are you doing, Aernon?” he whispered to himself.
“Another day, another sparring match,” came a familiar voice from behind him.
Gronte gave a small chuckle and turned his head slightly. “Good afternoon, Vrenot. Care to join me?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said with his warm smile.
The king continued to look behind him. “Trin, you’re more than welcome to watch, as well.”
Trin came into the sunlit balcony. “Thank you, sire.”
Gronte adored Vrenot. His wisdom allowed Gronte to listen carefully to whatever advice he had to offer. The priest’s age started to show: balding on the top, with the rest of his jet-black, shoulder-length hair and beard filled with graying batches. But he still looked relatively young for his age. His staff was always impressive, with Gronte being sometimes envious that his scepter was not as interesting. Over the years, his priest had filled his staff with pieces of different colored jewels, but the fire-shaped stone at the top was something that always caught his eye. Gronte swore that it glowed sometimes but never dared to question it. He always admired his dedication to the religion of Hemlon. He would quote the king with passages from Hemlon’s book that always seemed to give the right advice to the current problem at hand. Although Gronte liked Trin as well, Vrenot always held a special place in the king’s heart.
“Look at their forms,” Gronte stated. “They’re magnificent.”
“Something that you should be very proud of, your majesty,” Vrenot said. “They take after the best.”
“Yes, I believe they do. Especially my youngest.”
“Aernon?” Trin stated with what seemed to be surprise. “You think he could beat Bayron?”
“Without a doubt. He possesses the skills that are like so many of my family before him.”
Aernon dodged a swing from Bayron and came up on his left. He brought his sword down towards his older brother’s upper arm, but Bayron brought his shield to it. As Bayron spun to his left to try and slice his sword to Aernon’s extending arm, Aernon brought his arm back so his sword was hit instead.
“You are most likely correct with that assumption,” Vrenot said, “but there is one small problem about his fighting ability.”
“Yes…” Gronte said with interest. His focus was on Aernon now, watching every movement he made. Bayron’s teeth were clenched as he was determined to end this fight. He started to forcefully tear into the air close to Aernon, and Aernon used his sword rather than his shield to fight it. If Bayron moved left, Aernon moved left. Then, it seemed Bayron hit his sword so hard that Aernon’s sword went flying over onto the grass. Bayron kicked his brother’s chest which knocked him to the ground. When Aernon finally looked up, he stared straight at Bayron’s sword.
“…he always seems to lose,” the king finished.
Maxwell nudged Purown. “See? That’s why I won’t take that bet.”
The king sighed and moved toward the steps. “Sorry, gentlemen, I must congratulate my son.”
“Which one?” Vrenot joked.
Gronte only smiled before turning to take his leave.
Trin moved closer to Vrenot and the both of them watched the king approach his sons with open arms.
“The time is almost upon us,” Vrenot said with a low voice.
“Only two more days,” Trin said with extreme pleasure. “It’s amazing how fast this time has passed.”
“I will have to agree with you on that one.” Vrenot eyed Aernon, who was now being addressed by the king. “I must admit, it’s a pity to kill someone as skilled as he is. But that’s what makes him so dangerous.”
Trin reached for his scar on his cheek. Indeed, he would be dangerous if his family’s history had anything to say about it. “He may be able to see Bayron’s next move,” he said with a feeling of vengeance, “but he’ll never see ours coming.”
“No. And even if he could, no way could he stop this movement.”
He stared at the stone on his staff which began to glow.
~~~~~
Gronte stepped back and clapped. “Well done! Both of you.”
“You saw me defeat your youngest once again?” Bayron said with a huge grin, acting surprised that his father decided to watch the fight.
“I did.” He put a hand on Bayron’s shoulder. “You did a tremendous job! You will do well in a fight.”
“He could learn a lot from me if he took more effort into his studying.”
Gronte looked over at Aernon who had his head down, still catching his breath. He put a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t be upset, Aernon. You did a wonderful job, too.”
Aernon looked up at his father who had used a somber tone like that many times in the past. “Thank you, Father. If you wouldn’t mind, though, I would like to head up to my room now. I am very tired.”
“Don’t make excuses for losing this time, Aernon!” his brother exclaimed. “I could’ve beaten you with one hand tied behind my back.”
“I’m sure you could have.”
“Aernon, could I have a word with you?” Gronte asked.
“Why do you want to talk to him? He just lost!”
“It’s for, um, motivational spirit. I want to cheer him up after his loss, Bayron.”
“Oh. In that case, I’ll allow it. Besides, it’s his birthday coming up. I should have gone a little bit easier on him for that.”
“No, it’s okay, Bayron,” Aernon said. “I don’t expect you to make special accommodations for me.”
“Good because I don’t like giving them.” Bayron laughed. “Purown, come! Let’s go at it once again.”
Purown gave another smug smile to Maxwell as he went back onto the playing court. He snatched the sword from off the ground and went back to fighting his prince. Maxwell followed his own prince and the king as they made their way around the courtyard.
“Have a lot of things on your mind?” Gronte asked his son.
“I guess. It’s this whole birthday thing. You know, the initiation rights and going into isolation. It’s just nerve-racking.”
Gronte did not say anything.
“What?” Aernon asked.
“Aernon, you’re holding back.”
“I told you it’s because—”
“You’ve been doing it for years now. You can’t blame your birthday on those past times. I would just like to know what’s going through your head, that’s all.”
“Nothing is going through my head. Bayron is just better than me.”
Gronte laughed. “You know, your uncle would get upset each and every time I would defeat him in the beginning, knowing that I would get Hemlon before he ever would. But that just made him work harder at it. We then became pretty equal on winning matches because he started practicing more and made sure he could get the moves down. So that is why I’m asking you: if you know that he is better than you, why would you allow this self-fulfilling prophecy to exist?”
It was now Aernon’s turn to remain silent. He turned his head downwards once again to refrain from being tempted to look at Gronte.
“Fine,” Gronte said with some disappointment. “Just think about it. All I’m saying is that it may be possible that you could win a match or two against your brother if you show determination and put in a little more practice.” He stopped, and his voice turned grim. “You used to be able to when you were younger.”
Aernon stopped too and just stared at his father. Flashbacks appeared in front of him of many things that he had placed in the back of his mind for years. His heart rate increased. He could almost feel the blood retreat from his face. Aernon closed his eyes and forced himself to forget it.
Gronte placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “You’ll make a fine soldier one day.” The king started to walk back toward the castle. “However, I would like to speak to you tomorrow morning. I have something very important to tell you.”
“What is it?” Aernon said, suddenly very concerned and having his composure regained.
“We’ll discuss it tomorrow,” Gronte said, smiling. “For now, do a little more memorization of the initiation rights and then take a rest. It’s going to be your last night where you can just relax. Then, you’ll be up for hours on end.”
“Oh, I just can’t wait.”
The king gave a low chuckle. “Good evening, son.” He then looked over to Maxwell. “Good evening, Max.”
“Good evening, your majesty,” he said with a bow.
With that, he turned toward the castle to his throne room.
Aernon stood there for a moment with what seemed like a thousand thoughts running through his head: what his father had to say to him tomorrow, his birthday, what was going to become of him and Verina, another tally placed into the “loss” column of his and his brother’s matches, and not to mention his childhood sparring with Bayron. He needed to hide somewhere for a little bit. His bedroom was out of the question. It would be the first place everyone would look for him.
And he knew of just the place. “Max, would you mind if I had a few moments to myself? I don’t really want to be bothered right now.”
Maxwell hated these requests. “Very well, Aernon. You have the whistle, correct?”
Aernon took the small metal object from around his neck and lifted it up so his guard could see it.
Maxwell nodded. “Okay, remember: be safe.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to blow the whistle when the goldfish jump out of the fountain and start attacking me.”
Maxwell gave him a sharp look and headed over to the castle. Aernon quickly made his way over to the back of the courtyard toward one of the gardens. He knew that this one was rarely used by other people. He arrived at a small ivy-laden gateway and descended a series of stairs.
Unlike the other gardens in the courtyard, this one went underground, but instead of the ceiling being covered by rock or the ground itself, it was left partially open which allowed vines and flowers to grow around wooden beams and some of the sunlight to enter through. Two of the walls were made from the stone of the exterior kingdom wall and were totally covered in ivy while the other two were mostly built with similar stone blocks. It was not a large garden like some of the ones above ground, but it was not so small that one would feel claustrophobic. There was only one stone bench with small rose bushes on each side planted in stone pots, and the bench faced one of the most fantastic uses of flowers against one of the walls: it was in the shape of a lion’s head, once again the symbol of Hemlon. Yellows and blues made up the head and eyes while purple flowers outlined the image. Why bother with going to the religious services when he felt that this was magic in nature?
But all of this did not catch his attention right now. He stepped down onto the floor of the garden and walked toward the bench. “Where the hell do I begin to think about?” he muttered lowly to himself. “‘Oh, Aernon, I love you!’ ‘The big day is coming up, Aernon!’ ‘Why do you always lose to your brother, Aernon?!’” He wanted to hit something, and he felt kicking one of the rose pots next to the bench was efficient enough to release some of the tension.
As soon as he did so, a voice yelled behind him. “HEY! If those flowers did anything to you, I’d like to know about it before I buy those seeds again! Otherwise, STOP DESTROYING MY ROSES!”
Aernon turned to his right and saw a young girl—no older than he was—who was sitting on her legs. Around her were various plants wrapped in material and different types of gardening tools, including one in her hand.
She was actually a very pretty girl—well, could be a pretty girl if she cleaned herself up a little. Her long, wavy blonde hair was tied back into a thick ponytail that went almost to her waist. She wore the typical garb like any castle servant: rugged clothes with a small apron that looked as if it was used to wipe her hands and face with.
However, Aernon could tell from her expression that she was furious. “I’m sorry, I’m just—wait a second! I’m a prince! You don’t address me that way!”
The girl blinked. “Oh, yeah. It’s you.”
He was taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she said as she stood up, “that you use my residence as your reflection place and, most of the time, your ‘pleasure ground.’”
Aernon looked around. “You live here?”
She briskly walked over to the side of the Hemlon flower arrangement and lifted up the ivy to reveal a large door ring, which she pulled to show the entrance to a small room. “Satisfied?”
He peeked into the door to see a small and lowly lit room: a bed, a cabinet, and a small table and chair. That was it.
He turned to face her again and smiled. “Satisfied? Hardly…but I could be if you gave me the time.” He winked.
The girl groaned and slammed the door. She went to the broken pot that had held her rose bush and started to pick up the pieces and put them into her apron.
Aernon started feeling around the other walls to see if there was anything else he had missed. “You would think that with all the time I had been here, I would’ve seen you.”
“Well, with the amount of time that you’ve spent here, I should demand some rent payments or something, especially with the noises that keep me up some nights.”
“You hear those?” he said with too much enthusiasm.
She clenched her teeth. “Why the hell would I mention it?”
“Excuse me? I think your attitude is way out of line here!”