Lands of Darkness

[Easthaven I]

Lands of Darkness
1467 AD (These dates has nothing to do with real world dates or history…its an alternate history with alternate dates, and alternate universe.

The meeting

“This is the place.� Philip Brancus looked over to a two-story cabin. Somehow they ran into it, so well hidden it was, deep in the abyss of the forest. A well tended most beautiful garden laid before the house. A white picket fence bordered it. Clean, trimmed, gallant green grass layered the clearing all the way to the trees of the woods. Birds sang the most heavenly of songs, and the chipmunks and squirrels roamed the garden without fear. Even a deer or two would enter the clearing with a sense of security. A small stable was in the back, where a royal and angelic white stallion stood tall and upright, eating its supper. The mythological beauty of this place seemed so contrast with the outside world. It seemed so close to paradise and for the inhabitants…it was.

“Are you sure Philip? I sure don’t want to get killed for stumbling upon a Russian man’s home.� Pavil Famidan, Philip’s trusted friend and sidekick. Never did he let Philip walk into peril alone, so here he was, loyal, brave, and scared to death…right next to his best friend…his best brother.

“Well, there is only one way to find out, my friend,� Philip turned to Pavil and laid out his hand towards the heavenly home, “shall we?�

Pavil looked uneasily towards Philip. “We shall,� he said, “You first though. If this man is angry, he’ll kill you first, giving me time to run.�

“Don’t be foolish, my brother. My father told tales to me many a day about the heroics of this man. A true Persian he is. An authentic, original…Immortal.� They stood just inside the forest, not quite in the clearing.

“An Immortal you say? So these Immortals, do they truly live eternal life?� Pavil asked ignorantly but sincerely.

“Haha. No my friend. They die like the rest of us. But some do believe they live twice a normal man’s life, and they don’t even succumb to old age and weakness till their very final years.� Philip began staring blankly into oblivion. Enraptured and in awe of the great warriors of what once was.

“And what of this man? What makes him so special, surely he is old now. Couldn’t we have found another without having to march through such unyielding wilderness?� Pavil said as he sat on a rock and began rubbing his ankles.

“No. This man is one of the greatest of the Immortals. He was the youngest Persian General to ever walk the earth, the fourth and youngest son of King Elias, and the most gallant of all warriors. Never did he lose a battle. It is said that once he stepped onto the field all hope for the enemy was lost. With each strike from his blade a man fell, as though he himself was death. He killed many enemies of Persia. He saved Persia during the Greek wars and Roman wars. Always outnumbered he was, and always he galloped out of battle victorious. There! Look! That is his trusty steed. Never did I think it would still breath today, surely it must be decades old. It is also said that this man is the war-god sent down to our world as a man in flesh, to protect the Persians from the evil outsiders. But I’m sure it is only a tale from the lips of a bored old man with a wild imagination. I spent many a day searching for him, and now we are here.� He rambled on about his idol, his hero. And maybe his words were greater than they should, but they still held truth.

“Well surely he mustn’t be undefeated, nor a god. For he did not defeat the Russians when they came. So surely if this man did not fight, then why are we here trying to fight whom we can not defeat? The Cossacks are too powerful, they’ve conquered many, who are we to fight them? We are no Immortals. And if this man decided we should not fight when the demons first arrived, then maybe we should heed his actions, and go home. Besides, I miss my mother, Philip.� Pavil again began rubbing his ankles, with quite the frown upon his face.

“We must fight, Pavil. If not for us, then for our children. I will not live a life without freedom any longer, I’d rather not live at all. My children will have freedom, Pavil. I will not allow otherwise. They must be raised as Persians, not Russian lapdogs. Persia was a magnificent kingdom once, it shall be again. And the heir to the throne shall help us…he must.� He clenched his fist, not willing to doubt his dream.

“Very well then, enough with your never-ending tales. Let us get this over with, shall we.� Pavil stood up and began walking into the clearing with Philip at his side. Then he halted.

“Oh, one more thing, Philip.�

“Yes?�

“What is this great man’s name?� Pavil asked.

“Haha, my friend. If I were to walk alone on my journeys I would never smile, for you would not be there to bring such joy. He has a few names, brother. His name, Pavil, is Fornalin Varha. But as the General, everybody called him Magnata Krigo, which means King of War in common Persian. My father said his fellow Immortals called him Et Overvinna Nago… the Unconquered one. Still holds true today, apparently. For even the Russians leave his home alone, as you can see.� He said as they got closer to the picket fence gate.

“Or maybe the Russos aren’t willing to hike through such hideous toils.� His friend wittily remarked. Philip just ignored it.

They walked through the gate and over the marble stone steps through the garden. And finally they arrived at the doorstep.

They stood there for a moment. Hesitant to wake the warrior. In the depths of their minds they pictured him ripping the door off the hinges and standing ten feet tall with a mighty sword at his side and then begin slashing them into oblivion as they screamed in terror.

“Well?� Pavil hinted, “you know, we can still turn back, go home to our nice families…�

“No.� Philip was determined to do what needs be done. “We must stay the course, my friend. If anyone is to help us, he is the one.�

He knocked two quiet knocks.

Nothing.

He knocked harder this time, three nice easily-heard knocks.

Nothing.

This time he pounded the door five times. Startling Pavil.

“Are you mad! Now he’ll kill us both for disturbing him with such harsh racket! How can we fight Russians when a fellow Persian ends both our lives!� Scared Pavil whispered loudly and excitedly.

Philip just shrugged.

Then the door slowly opened…

And out of the shadows came the inhabitant…

To be continued if there’s interest…

===========================

OOC: I’m starting another story, don’t worry, I’m going to finish the other too. So what do you think? Worth continueing?

[Easthaven I]

The unexpected hostess

“Yes?� The voice of an angel. Philip and Pavil were caught off guard. They expected a giant, god of war and what they got was an angel. She was beautiful to the very core of the word. Dark silky radiant hair ran down over her bare shoulders. Her skin was soft and tan, no other word could describe her…just…angel. Her smile is what made her so heavenly, her teeth were perfect pearls. Her eyes a colorful brown, bright, and nurturing. She was the epitome of beauty, innocence, and all that was good in the world. Dressed in white, she was. She even stood in a perfect posture. And when one was near her, they felt warm and safe.

The two young men stood there with their mouths gaping in awe and wonderment. They just stared at the goddess, appeased enough to just look. Afraid to move to disrupt the perfection.

“I’m assuming you did not come to my home just to stand and stare…� She said as she smiled, “Well? Do you speak? Or do your capabilities end at pounding down my door and waking my child?�

Finally Philip was the one to snap out of the trance that the angel so subtly and accidentally placed him in.

“Umm…uhhh…I’m terribly sorry my lady…umm..see…we came…to uhhh…well see this man we heard of…ummm…Immortal…uhhh…indeed…� He ran on speaking gibberish for quite sometime. Amusing the woman every second of it. She listened with a smile and nodded her head as if she understood the broken words.

Philip went on and started to not even speak any words, just a sort of garbled grunts. Finally the angelic woman raised her delicate hand, and Philip’s ramblings stopped.

She laughed.

“Out of all that came from your mouth, I only understood ‘Immortal’. So let me assume you are here to speak to my husband. Since you made it through such a hideous forest I am sure my husband would agree that you are worthy enough to speak to him. He very much wants to be left alone from the world, so you see why we live in such a secluded place. Anyways, he is not home at the present. He usually goes into the wilderness for a short while to either be alone or hunt. Or even check the area to be sure its clear of dangerous foes. I am sure he knows you are here, and should be home soon. I pray you, come in and be our guests. Dinner is near ready and I shall make two more plates for our visitors this evening. You must be tired, please come in.� She stood aside to allow the visitors in. They enjoyed her little talk, for it was like song to their ears.

“Thank you so very much, fair lady. Thank you…� Philip and Pavil bowed down several times as they eased their way into the home. Pavil still with his eyes open as to not miss a single movement the woman made.

The inside of this home was just as beautiful as the outside, if not more so. It was smallish yet elegant and yet a family home. They entered a small hall with three open doorways. She led them through the doorway directly in front of them. There they entered a living room. Two sofas and a sofa chair was situated in a semi circle around a fireplace and in the middle was a table. And there was a boy, no older than 8 playing with wooden figures. He paid no heed to the visitors, very much into his pretend battles that he was conducting.

“Please sit, I pray you. I shall bring you something to drink and eat.� There she left them as she walked into the next room.�

“Thank you, fair woman. We greatly appreciate your kindness and hospitality.� Philip called back as he sat at the sofa with Pavil. He smiled at the boy when he looked up. After a few moments the woman came back in with a tray of cakes and cups of some sort of drink. She set them on the table next to the wooden figures the boy was playing with and sat down across the young visitors. Philip and Pavil helped themselves.

“Now tell me. What brings you here? Deep into the forests where not many dare to enter?� She asked as she sipped her cup with the delicacy of a princess.

“We come to seek your husband’s help, my lady. A long journey we’ve undertaken to get here. We hope we did not search in vain.� Philip answered as he took a bite from a cake.

“Well, for the sake of a tale, pray share your journeys with me as we wait for Fornalin.� She sat, listening intently with undivided attention. So, Philip started the tale from the beginning, even the boy became interested in hearing of the strange lands he’s never seen. The woman too listened enjoyably.

The tale carried on into the beginning of night, where footsteps were then heard on the doorstep. And the small creaking sound gave evidence to the opening of the door…

To come…Et Overvinna Nago, “the Unconquered one�

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Grreeeaaatt!! Most definitely want to see you continue this. Fantastic start, dont worry about low response most likely wont pick up untill after the holidays.

Once again brilliant start

[Easthaven I]

Et Overvinna Nago

The door slammed. Footsteps could be heard in the small hall, then a man entered the room. A tall man he was. No less then six feet and two inches. And well built he was, solid as a rock yet he did not illuminate bulging muscles, just rock solid he was. The hood from his grey cloak kept his face in shadow. A bow was in his grip, and a leather bag of arrows slung on his back. Such a posture he held. Not a movement did he commit. The visitors felt his eyes even though they were hidden.

Pavil gulped.

“Sir…Varha?� Questioned Philip the brave. Such darkness this man contained. And then the darkness was swept away as the boy ran to his father. Then the memory of such darkness vanished completely as the fair lady walked over to the man as well.

“What took so long, Fornalin? We went through many tales by this young man, and then some.� Complained the wife as she grabbed the bow and arrows from the man. She walked to a table at the edge of the room and placed the bow ontop of it, and the leather bag below it. Then she walked into the kitchen to ready supper.

The man picked up his son and held him with his arm. He then walked over and sat in the comfy sofa chair situated by the fire. His son sat contently on his lap as he played with one of his wooden figures. Then the man swiped away the hood, and his face was clear. Much younger then both Pavil and Philip expected. Young but hardened. The man…the warrior…had a mustache partnered with a goatee and a shadow of roughly shaven was where a beard would be. He had dark hair, much like his wife, yet it seemed a much darker dark, unlike the pleasant dark of the woman. His eyes were very much different from the lady as well, it were the same color yet different shade. Her eyes were bright and colorful. His eyes were dark, empty and hollow. One could be surrounded in darkness if they stared for too long into the abyss of this man’s eyes. Shadows hung under his eye sockets, evidence to age and experience…and wisdom. He stared with concentration into the fire, still not heeding the visitors. His skin was tan as well, but a rougher tan. The fire played with shadows across the man’s face. Philip saw no king, but a soldier, a worker, and a father. This man was tall, dark and handsome, but no god he was. But Philip knew there was more then what meets the eye.

“Umm…sir?� Philip hesitantly spoke. The man did not move.

“Sir, Magnata Krigo?…�Philip spoke once again. A little hesitant as to which name to choose.

The man laughed.

“It has been many a year before any man has ever called me by that name.� He said. His voice was stern and strong. Confident was an obvious trait. The man turned and looked at his visitors. There, Philip and Pavil felt his dominance as he gazed upon them.

“We’ve come from afar, sir, we come from a village constantly pillaged by the Russian cossacks. They rape our women, and steal our children. All over Persia they are like this, they treat Persians like dogs. The taxes they impose, no man in all of Persia is rich any longer, every man is poorer than even the word ‘poor’ could describe. They steal our homes when they choose, everything that belongs to us belongs to them. And so, me and my friend here could stand no longer. And I’ve heard about you from my father, and I searched and searched, questioned and questioned and finally through much luck and guidance from the gods I found your location. You are the only one I believe could help us. We want Persia as it once was, a kingdom of its own, sir. Where every man would be proud to be Persian, and not curse the day they were born with this heritage.� Philip continued on with his well-practiced speech, trying to get every fact in and persuasive note in before Fornalin spoke. Finally he did.

“My hunger keeps me from understanding your ramblings, please, let us eat first and discuss later.� He stood and guided the visitors into the dining room, where a long table for five was situated. They all sat. Philip was somewhat disappointed and disheartened at the lack of response from the Immortal. The woman then walked in and sat at the end of the table, while her husband sat at the other end. Food from heaven displayed across the table. They thanked the gods for the food then they began their feast. After a short while Natalya Varha spoke up.

“Well? Aren’t you going to hear them out, my dear? They came all this way, it is the least you can do.� She commanded as she sipped her wine.

“I did hear them out, Natalya.� Said he, as he took a bite from a biscuit, not even looking at his wife.

“Yes, and all they got in return was, ‘oh dear I’m hungry’.� She mocked in a silly deep voice. “They deserve more than that, I am sure.�

“Fine fine.� Fornalin turned to the visitors. “And so, you came to ask me to fight for you?�

“No, “ Said Philip. “ Fight WITH us.�

“Well then your journey was in vain. I stopped fighting long ago, and I will fight no more. I have my home and my family and that is all that I want. No more glory, no more fighting. The Russians do not disturb me here, and so I shall not walk out of my sanctuary to pick a fight with them.�

“But Persia is being enslaved while you sit idle here. Others are not so lucky as you, you have my deepest respects, sir, but other families are being destroyed. Wives are being widowed and raped, children are being enslaved and corrupted. This is not for glory, it is for freedom.� Philip pleaded. Pavil just listened and ate…and drank.

“Those families are not my own. And here, I have my freedom. And here, my family is safe. Why should I risk what I have for others?�

“Because you are an Immortal, sworn to protect the people! The Persians! It is your duty as soldier…and king…�

“I AM NO KING!� He pounded his fist on the table. He quickly cooled down. “And I am no longer a soldier. That ended long ago with the trust I had for my fellow man. Persians no longer have what is needed to fight for freedom. It is spirit and honor, they have neither. I’ve seen it. I fight no more! I wish to be left alone, I do not bother no one, and in return I simply ask not to be bothered, and yet you are here. I have bled my last drop and have fought my last fight. No longer shall I see the battlefield. This the choice I have made.�

Philip was heartbroken, and angered. Pavil simply kept eating, glad to be going home after this, but deep down he felt disappointed. Philip was frustrated but felt defeated. He simply looked down and began his meal. He felt the eyes of pity on him, the eyes of Natalya Varha. But he would not meet her gaze.

“You have no weapon, nor money nor food. I will give you these if you wish to continue your journeys and fight. Tomorrow I will show you the safer routes to take out of this forest. That is all I shall give you. I wish you luck, my friend. Tonight you both shall sleep in the guest room, it is the third door upstairs.� With that they finished their meal and went to bed.


========================


Later that night, Natalya couldn’t sleep. Guilt kept her mercilessly awake.

“Fornalin…Fornalin…� She whispered to her husband laying next to her. He did not stir.

“Magnata Krigo!� She whispered louder and shook him.

“Do not call me by that name, my love.� He whispered back, half asleep.

“Why do you not go? Why do you not fight?� She asked him.

Realizing he would not get sleep anytime soon, and knowing it was futile to ignore his wife, he turned over to face her.

“My reasons are my own.� He said.

“But why? People need you. Persia needs you. Never have you ignored the call for help when the kingdom called for it.� She whispered.

“There is no more kingdom.� He whispered back.

“There is! And it is your kingdom! Why shan’t you protect it? Defend it? When defense is needed?� She asked.

“It is not my kingdom, it was my father’s and my brothers’.� He whispered so simply.

“And all are dead! Do not play stupid and naïve with me, Fornalin. I know you are niether.� She whispered sharply.

“Even if I did fight, I am but one man. The Persians have no heart anymore. What can I alone do, against such a mighty empire.� He said. Fully awake now as he sat up facing his wife in the dark.

“You are but one man. But no normal man you are. You have a gift from the gods for rekindling fires within the hearts of men. You can fight at equal strength to a hundred regular men.�

“And even a hundred regular men could not fight off the Russian Empire.�

“Your fellow Immortals are still of this world. They will follow you if you lead them. And with their support you shall gain even more men under your army. You are a good leader, able to transform a small army into a magnificent beast. You have done it before, Fornalin, do it again now that Persia truly needs it.�

“I was young then, and foolishly brave. No longer am I either. And both are needed for such the impossible.� Again he doubted and slashed down his wifes encouragements.

“You are stronger! And wiser. And courageously brave you still are. And always have you been known for overcoming the impossible. Stop talking such rubbish, my husband. Why do you not fight? Have you truly lost the flame within you? The flame that kindled our love?� She was sincere, and warm.

“I will not fight. And that is that. Why do you want me to fight? IT shall put you and young Elias in such dangers as no other. And you are the one who wanted me to stop my warmongering ways, and now you wish for me to go to war once more?�

“Once more yes. For now it is necessity, now it is for freedom. It is selfish of me to keep you from being the hero of the people. Me and Elias will be fine. We are but two Persians, living a life of safety and liberty. While thousands more Persians live the life of the oppressed, hardly a life at all. Is it not right to risk our own lives for the lives of thousands? Is it not selfish to sit idly by while children are being killed, and women are being ravaged? It is not just the duty of soldier or king, it is the duty of a fellow Persian, of a fellow man.� She said so earnestly, so honestly. It sparkled a long lost flame within Magnata Krigo, the man once born to protect the people. But he quickly remembered a memory long lost as well, and the thoughts of fighting was once again quickly turned down.

“No, my love. I will not risk such innocence, for the cruelty of the world. They will fight their own fight. I will fight no more.� And with that he turned and laid back down. And went to sleep.

“But this is your fight…Et Overvinna Nago.� She whispered. But her last words went unheard to Fornalin Varha. He was in the lands of dreams.

Natalya Varha went back to sleep, despaired to have not succeeded for the sake of Persia. Perhaps hope was not yet lost…


To be continued…

=================

OOC: I know it seems probably slow. I’m usually the guy who jumps right into the blood and guts, but if you are patient such events shall arise. I’m just trying to create more story, more love of each character. Feedback wanted, please.

[TheGuitarist]

This is excellent! I really admire your writing style.

Continue ASAP.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

No problem with the character build up East, its great and leaves me wanting more.

[Easthaven I]

Thank you both very much for your encouragement. I shall continue the story the way it is.

[Easthaven I]

The Disappointed Parting

Philip woke up before Pavil, not quite fully rested for his mind was troubled with doubt throughout the moon’s stay in the sky. He did not know where their path would now lead them. He did not know why hope still lingered.

Pavil stirred.

“Get up, Pavil, for the moon has given up its reigns and the sun is rising. It is time to carry on, on our course.� Philip said to his friend as he stood and straightened his clothing. He wrapped his cloak around himself and waited for Pavil.

Pavil heard his friend and reluctantly got up from his luxurious bed. Unlike Philip, he looked very well rested.

They then walked out and made their way towards the kitchen where they smelt an aroma of pleasure. Such a beautiful house it was, one wanted to stay there forever, but Philip had duty and quest to fulfill.

They walked into the kitchen and there was the angel. She turned from her activities and smiled at her guests. She did not look at all like a recently awoken maiden, but a high-spirited Princess with the strength of a Queen.

“Good morning Master Philip and Master Pavil!.� She said, “what dreams befell you in the night?� She placed two plates of food on the table and filled two cups of milk. She sat down invitingly for her guests to sit with her.

“Not many dreams, lady Varha, only concerns on our next step for freedom. Only searching in vain for lingering hopes after so many were lost by the words spoken by your husband.� Philip said as he sat down at his place. Natalya’s smile slightly faded as she heard such disheartening words come from the young man whom was full of spirit on her doorstep.

“I on the other hand dreamt of home, my lady.� Pavil carried a smile as he sat down in front the delicious food. He took a whiff of the aroma expelling out from the meal and then continued. “I dreamt of my little sister and my mother and father. Of our small carpenter shop and the amatuer garden growing in the back. And the rolling green fields of the lands…� He continued his joyous jabbering. Natalya regained her smile hearing such enthusiastic words from one whom lived oppressed and had not much to be happy for.

When he was finished they began their enjoyable meals. She watched them eat and waited until they were deep within their breakfast, then she spoke.

“Fornalin asked for you to go to the hut in the back when you have finished your breakfast.� She said as she stood and began her choirs around the kitchen. The visitors simply nodded, mouths too full to speak.


==================


They finally finished their meals and thanked Natalya countlessly. They then worked their way to the back of the home where the stable and the shack was located. Fornalin Varha was in the stable placing the saddle on the second brown horse. His son watched him and asked him questions like any 7-year old would ask, all the while chewing happily on a strand of straw. Two packs laid on the ground next to the boy.

“So how were your meals?� He asked, not looking away from the horse as he strapped a pack onto it.

“It was a meal from the gods, I tell you.� Said Pavil, reflecting on the past minutes trying to retaste the pleasure.

Fornalin chuckled.

“Yes my friend, my wife is gifted with many talents and cooking is but one of them.� He finished packing the last horse. His son simply leaned back on the corral and listened contentedly.

“Well, you’re fully supplied and packed. These horses aren’t made for war but they are strong and endurable. They will take you to the ends of the world and back again.� He patted one of the horses on the cheek and turned towards the shack.

“Follow me.� They followed him to the work shack, young Elias followed also with curiosity.

The shack was just like any other work shack. Tools lay here and there, dust glided about and the smell of sweat hung in the air.

Fornalin worked his way to the back and rummaged through objects indiscernible. Metal on metal clanking were the sole sounds in the air as Philip, Pavil, and young Elias waited.

Fornalin returned, arms full of steel objects and leather. The others stepped aside as he walked out of the shack and onto the grass where he dropped his load.

He brought up two sheathed shortswords and tossed each one to Philip and Pavil. They unsheathed them to inspect and were enveloped in awe of the two well maintained weapons. The lustrous blades reflected the morning sun making them seem emblazoned with white light. Philip touched the blade and felt the coolness of the steel in the moisture of the morning.

Fornalin brought out two chain mails as well, they too of shiny steel. He tossed them to the new masters.

“Put those on under your clothing. And get your sheaths attached to your belts, and be sure to keep your swords well hidden under your cloaks. No need showing unknown strangers you are armed.� Fornalin commanded. He stood there and watched as they did what he ordered. He watched and tried to think if by chance a thought escaped his mind that would aid these young men on their journeys. None revealed themselves if they did so exist.

Pavil had trouble strapping the sheath to his belt. Young Elias intervened and took command of the sheath and easily strapped it onto to the belt for Pavil. Pavil thanked him, feeling a little embarrassed.

Fornalin looked at the young men, trying to scavenge some satisfaction that he was leaving these men well tended. But no such hope came. The more he looked at them the more he felt pity. The more he saw them getting their throats easily slit by annoyed Russian guardsmen. He picked up an old sword from the pile he dropped and then guided the horses to the front of the house. The others followed in his steps, trusting in whatever he would do.

He then walked forward to an area in the green grass and turned. He held his sword in his right hand as he twirled it in circles with complete command.

“Come forward, young Philip Brancus, show me your skills as a swordsman.� He said as he got acquainted with the old battered rusted sword. “I must give you heed though, I am rusty. Haven’t wielded a sword in ages.�

Philip obediently walked forward as he unsheathed his sword. Pavil stood by, smiling. Young Elias climbed up on one of the horses and stood watch from there, also looking forward to the show.

After a few moments of waiting, Philip charged forward swinging his sword. With a quick flick of the wrist, Fornalin swiped Philip’s sword from his hands then brought his blade to Philip’s chin.

“Never strike out of restlessness, my friend. And never be the first to strike unless you have complete confidence.� Fornalin said as he backed away. “Again.�

Philip picked up his sword and charged again, swinging strike after strike. The Immortal easily blocked and deflected each strike with the confidence of a champion.

“Come help him, Pavil. If at any time a situation presents itself in which you may aid your friend against a foe, you must seize the moment while it exists.� He said as he deflected another swordstrike.

Pavil obeyed, And came running at Fornalin, sword held high. He brought the sword down upon Fornalin while the man was blocking a blow from Philip. With another lightning strike, Fornalin struck Pavil’s sword and sent it gliding out of the young man’s hands. Fornalin quickly averted his attention back to Philip, blocking strike after strike with ease.

Pavil ran off to pick up his sword. He came back and attacked Fornalin from behind. As Fornalin Deflected a blow of Philip he flipped his sword over his back without looking and deflected a strike from Pavil. He then spun and struck Pavil’s futile second strike with the energy of what once was. Pavil’s sword leapt from his hands once again. Fornalin quickly reversed his momentum and struck Philip’s weapon with the same might.

Both defiant shortswords laid on the grass, while the rusted sword of old stayed loyally in its master’s hand.

The two young men chased their fallen weapons. Fornalin looked upon them with despair and disappointment. He looked at his son… young Elias shook his head sadly. He turned around, feeling the eyes of the woman he loved, and saw her leaning on the doorway, arms crossed.

He returned his glance at the two young men as they returned…swords in hand. Both were red in the face and excited by the pretend battle.

“Well then. Good show.� Is all he could say. He went to the horses. He grabbed his son and placed him on the ground.

“Go north, you shall come across a stream. Follow it. Do not be alarmed when it runs into a hill and runs under ground. Simply keep riding in the same direction, after no more then thirty furlongs it shall appear again and shall lead you out of the treacherous forest.� He said as they mounted their horses.

“It shall take you five days. Good luck, young Persians. I shall pray you succeed in your endeavors, you will be in my thoughts.� He shook their hands and avoided their fear filled eyes.

“I can not say I depart from your home a happy man. Such sadness engulfs me, but I do thank you with all my heart for your aid. Even this you were not at all obligated to do, and yet you did. And for that we are in debt to you. We will return to pay you, I promise, if we are still breathing after the dangerous toils our paths lead us into.� Philip said with a solemn tone. Fornalin merely nodded and backed way, his hand on his son’s shoulders. He waved them away as they galloped off. Then they disappeared as the wood swallowed them in.

He turned away and walked to his door. His wife still stood blocking the path into the house. Her eyes were narrow and stern as she stared into Fornalin’s eyes as he came. He halted in front of her. She could tell he felt pain inside for letting those men go, knowing they would not survive their first encounter with any man with the conscious to kill. But she held her gaze.

“I fight no longer, my love.� He said pleadingly. “I pray you…let it be.� His son stood in front of him as he rested his hands upon his shoulders. He looked pleadingly to his wife, but then looked away as he guided his son into the lovely home, past his lovely wife.

Natalya Varha looked on, into the forests. In the past she always saw good hopes for the future. And now she still saw those good hopes, but for the immediate beyond she could only see darkness…

To Be continued…next up…Together into Darkness

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Brilliant.

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

Is it just me, or does anyone else get loads of weird symbols in this? Should this worry me? It makes it a little distracting to read.

[TheGuitarist]

You're experiencing weird symbols because your browser isnt encoded correctly. With the default encoding, the browser cant make sense of symbols like quotation marks and apostrophes.

The problem is easily corrected. Right-click on the page and then click "Encoding" in the pop-up menu. Then, select "Unicode (UTF-8)." If this option doesnt show up, click "More" and then select "Unicode (UTF-8)."

Remember to change your encoding back to default after you're done viewing Apolyton stories, or your browser may become confused and spew weird symbols again.

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

Ah, much better. Thanks for that.

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

This is a very ambitious approach, both in terms of the scope of the project and for the manner in which it's told, for which credit is certainly due on both counts. It's highly dialogue-driven, and dialogue is one of the trickiest things to pull off convincingly.

It's very impressive as it stands. Would you like any constructive criticism on it?

[Easthaven I]

Thanks folks.

By all means, Lazarus, criticize away...

Let me know both the strengths and weaknesses of my story, if you would...

[Bugs ****ing Bunny]

"Weaknesses" certainly isn't the expression I would use in the face of what is an excellent story, but I can highlight what I think is the strengths of it.

Your style so far in the main is very ornate, an example being the recurring use of phrases such as "Dressed in white, she was". This has the effect of conjuring up regal/dreamlike imagery.

By carefully varying the tone in other sections, you can create a dynamic contrast that will emphasise the parts detailed above- an example could be if you were dealing with a fight or an argument, or some sort of unpleasant image- in such an event, by switching to a very blunt and direct descriptive style you vary the pace and manipulate the way in which reader visualises the scene. This helps create an immersive story and will make the most of the hard work you've already put in on the sections you've already written.

There's a great example of this in what you've already written-

"Fornalin looked at the young men, trying to scavenge some satisfaction that he was leaving these men well tended. But no such hope came. The more he looked at them the more he felt pity. The more he saw them getting their throats easily slit by annoyed Russian guardsmen. "

In it's context, that's a killer line. It comes like a kick in the teeth. More, please.

The same trick works with dialogue too, and helps develop the characters- mixing taciturn blunt-speakers with florid and poets creates a clear identity that helps drive the dialogues.

Hope that helps.

[Easthaven I]

THank you very much for the detailed feedback. It will help indeed. Again, thank you.

[Easthaven I]

double post. My bad.

[Easthaven I]

Together into Darkness
November 15, 1467AD

It was the third day of their departure from the house of Varha. Evening had set in, and they set up camp next to the stream. They set ablaze a small fire, to cook a rabbit Pavil had caught. Their horses stood contentedly eating grass, feeling the relief of having those packs off their backs.

“So where do we head from here, Philip?” asked Pavil while chewing his meat as he sat and leaned against a tree.

Philip lay, his head resting on his pack as he stared into the hypnotizing flames.

“I do not yet rightly know, my friend.” He said, wondering the same question.

Pavil threw the bone into the darkness. He dusted his hands off to swipe the grease away. He then laid himself down and placed his hands under his head as he stared into the night sky.

“Where ever you decide to go, Philip, I shall go with you.” He then closed his eyes, in an effort to sleep.

Philip averted his gaze from the flames and he looked upon his friend. Ever grateful. How lucky he was to have such a loyal and trustworthy companion, so few it seemed were in the world.

Philip, too, closed his eyes. Both too inexperience to know it was safer to sleep in intervals while one keeps watch…for dangerous toils were the normality in the wilderness…


----------------------


Morning came.

Philip awoke, not yet opening his eyes. He yawned and slowly rose…then something sharp poked his cheek. He opened his eyes, vision blurred he could only discern a body standing above him, then two and three. His vision cleared and what he now saw were four men pointing spears at his head.

He quickly looked over to Pavil and saw four men above him as well, in likewise fashion. Panic tried to take him, but he remained calm knowing these were Persians not Russians. And if they were to kill him and Pavil they would have done so while they slept. But still, he was alarmed.

Then a voice spoke out, bringing his attention to a man mounted on a horse above the ashes of their fireplace.

“Two young Persians, no older then nineteen years, sleeping in the depths of the wilder of woods. This brings much curiosity to me and my men.” Said the tall blond man. “But such curiosity is unhealthy. We should just be content in having two extra horses and extra supplies…and two slaves.”



They marched. Philip and Pavil were bound, and forced to march on foot while the, now fifteen, others rode on their steeds. When Pavil spoke, trying to explain their reasoning he was kicked and beaten. Thus, speech was forbidden. They marched all day, no longer along the stream for these men seemed to know their own way.

Philip tried to think of a way out of this mess, but no idea came to mind. No good idea for that matter. These men seemed uncaring at all to whether Philip or Pavil were dead or alive. They would be quick to kill either of them if they became a burden. So Philip and Pavil obediently marched on.

Evening approached, and the men stopped to set camp. They threw the slaves away from the fire and tied them to a tree, back to back. The fifteen men circled the fire. They spoke and cheered, having a merry time. They passed ale around and reflected on past old days. Philip questioned how far off those old days were for these men seemed young. No younger then twenty but no older than twenty-three. The leader seemed the oldest, sporting a bushy blond beard and long brownish hair. He seemed twenty-five to Philip. But these men looked strong and skilled, they looked like soldiers. Maybe they were mercenaries or just bandits. Philip stopped wondering for it made no difference.

Philip leaned his head back against the tree, no longer thinking of a way out, only thinking of his new wife and soon to be born child he left back at home.

Then Pavil coughed.

“Are you well, Pavil?” Philip asked.

“I cough up blood, my friend, and my chest hurts where they gave me that mighty kick.” He replied. “But I’ve freed my hand and am able to untie myself.”

“I pray you speak the truth. Untying yourself! How is it possible?” Philip whispered excitedly.

“Remember when we were children? And I broke my thumb when I fell from the tree behind your home?”

Philip thought for a moment, searching through his library of childhood memories. “Yes.”

“Well you remember how it was never the same after it healed. It bent kind of strangely and could be pulled and pushed. Well somehow I pulled or pushed it, making my hand slip through the loops.” Pavil whispered triumphantly.

“You must escape, Pavil. Get help from somewhere. Go to Fornalin if you can. If you can’t get help within a few days then just leave me be. But for now just get away, quietly and quickly.” Commanded Philip.

“I will untie you.”

“No. It will take too much time and they will notice. Go now while they are deep in conversation, their senses dull, and the fire is weak. This is our only chance, given to us by the gods. Go now Pavil.” Philip whispered with a stern voice, trying to discourage Pavil from convincing him otherwise.

So Pavil quietly ducked down, and slowly slivered away. When he was far enough and under cover of the shadow, he began running.

One of the men on the opposite side of the fire, got up to refuel the flames. He spared a glance at the slaves, and even through his drunkenness he realized the escape.

“One has escaped!” He yelled snapping everybody out of their nostalgia. They all looked where he pointed and saw Philip sitting alone against a tree, and on the opposite side was but slack of rope.

They all dropped their cups and rushed into the shadow of the forest, bows in hand and swords sheathed. Leaving Philip tied to the tree…


====================


“So your father won many wars?” Young Elias asked his father, after Fornalin spoke a long tale to his son.

“Yes.” He answered, staring into the flames of the fireplace as he did so many times during the evenings.

“And he was truly a king? You speak the truth?” The boy asked in awe, not believing he was related to a king.

“Haha. Yes my son. Is it so hard to believe? You also bear his name, my son.”

“Well…my grandfather was a king! And I bear his name!” His son said with pride and awe as he too stared into the fire.

After a few moments of pondering the new facts, young Elias began another barrage of questions.

“So if your father was King, doesn’t that make you a prince?”

“It would seem so…”Fornalin answered, beginning to feel where this was leading.

“Since Grandfather has past, doesn’t that make you King in his place?” Elias asked.

“Well I have older brothers, Elias. The eldest inherits the throne.” Fornalin said.

“What if your brothers die?” Asked the curious boy.

“Then I guess I would inherit it.” Fornalin answered. He began feeling cornered by his boy’s genius tactics in questioning.

“And where are your brothers now, Father?” The inevitable question was asked. A few moments past, and Fornalin said nothing. Then he was saved…by a knock at the door.

Then a clump sound was heard, as though somebody dropped their whole body against the door and slid it down to crumple in the bottom.

Fornalin got up and grabbed a dagger that was attached under the table at the edge of the room. He quietly went to the door, and listened. But heard nothing. He looked back to his son, who sat there by the fire waiting on his father.

Fornalin opened the door.

The body of a wounded and bloodied Pavil fell before his feet…

To be continued…

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Tense really tense Easthaven. Dont make fall off my chair again! keep writing

[unscratchedfoot]

Looking for feedback are you? Okay, here's some feedback from unscratchedfoot.



I wish there was a puking smiley or the one where one is smacking the other with a big fish.
Anyways, waiting for the next installment.

[Easthaven I]

Lol. Thanks for the...uhh...feedback....

[Easthaven I]

…continued

Hope on the Rise
November 20th 1467AD

Pavil woke in pain. His leg hurt, his shoulder also, and his ribs as well. Every time he took a breath it stung.

He groaned. And with that groan came relief, coolness touched his forehead, and his cheek. He opened his eyes and saw the angel once more. Again he became entranced by her beauty.

She smiled.

“You heal quickly, Master Pavil. Most men would be asleep for at the least two days with the wounds you had. You’ve only slept through the night and into the afternoon.” She said.

“My pains keep me from such luxury, Lady Varha.” He then remembered Philip and he became worried, “Where’s your husband? I need his help. Philip is still held captive!” He said as he tried to get up, but the pain slowed his efforts.

“Calm yourself, Pavil. My husband has headed to the Rock Mountains, it is but fourteen furlongs from here. He figured Philip was in trouble when you came back full of arrows, and he knew a fight must ensue to gain Philip back, wherever he may be. He will be back shortly. And he will get your friend back, with your help.” She said as she tried to guide him back into bed.

“Why did he go to the Rock Mountains for? We must leave now!” He said excitedly as he resisted Natalya’s efforts to place him back in bed.

“You will see, Pavil. Be patient and just trust him.”

“It seems I have no other choice.” He calmed, “Please, Mrs. Varha, I wish to stay up.” He said. Natalya finally gave up trying to place him back to rest.

“Very well, come down and eat something. You need to regain your strength, for when Fornalin returns.” She turned and left the room.

Pavil changed from his robes and replaced them with new clothing that Natalya placed on the foot of the bed.

He wondered why Fornalin went to the Rock Mountains…


=============


Fornalin finally climbed over the last ridge he needed to climb. He was not quite at the top of the rocky mountain. He was on a ridge, twenty feet wide and a cave was before him. Well hidden it was, behind thick bushes and indented deeply into the mountain. He turned and searched throughout the land before him, searching for any wandering soul that might find interest in the hidden cave.

He found none. So he headed into the mountain. It was completely dark, but he knew the way perfectly, even though he had not been there for years. He took a certain path through the tunnel, avoiding traps he had set for uninvited guests.

Finally there was light at the end. He approached and entered a large room, light seeped in through dozens of little holes in the upper left wall. Barely enough light for Fornalin to find the candles and light them. The air was thick, and moist. On the walls hung chain mails, swords, daggers, battle axes, bows, bags of arrows and armor for the legs, arms and body. A few helms sat idle on a table, covered in dust at one edge of the room. But Fornalin headed to the far end of the chamber. He placed his hands into a small crevice in the lower wall, it seemed like a normal crack in the stone. He pulled on it with all his might and finally the large stone succumbed to his will and pivoted open. He went to the other side and pushed until the compartment was completely wide.

He then grabbed a candle and entered the open way crouched. He then stood once he was in a room. Much smaller this room was and narrow. To his left and right were shrines to his ancestors of old. All was covered in a layer of dust. He walked slowly down the isle and reached the end, where a statue of his father, King Elias, stood holding the hilt of his sword with both hands as the blade ran straight down to his feet. Fornalin slightly shivered at the overwhelming glory the statue emanated. He knelt in honor. Then he went to the foot of the statue where a large chest sat. He dragged it into the larger room where there was more light.

He broke the lock on it with the hilt of his dagger, for the key was long lost. He wiped the dust off of it. The chest was plated in gold, showing the Persian wealth as it once was.

He opened it slowly as it made the creaking sound of age, as if it took a deep breath from being unable to do so for so long.

There in the chest, waiting patiently and obediently for another day of battle, were his warrior possessions. His black cloak bearing his mark, his silver gold-trimmed armor emblazoned with artistic design, His gold and silver helm,his infamous black bow and its bag of golden feathered arrows, and most importantly…his notorius lustrous silver longsword. Domasken meaning Doomlight was the name it bore, for that’s what the enemy called it. It shone the most brilliance during battle, the steel and silver was different then all the other metal on the field. When they saw the brilliance of the sword, they knew Magnata Krigo was the wielder of the white flame, and all before him fell.

He lifted it and it became shiny under seeping sunlight, as if it was awakening from its long rest.

“Death was brought to many men by your steel. And now, together we shall bring death to our enemies once more, and may it not end until they have all fallen.” He said to it and himself. He placed the sword in the pack he brought, along with all his other equipment from the chest.

He returned to the brown horse that he rode upon, leaving the cave as it was before. He was off, to save a young brave soul from death and fight for what was rightfully his…


==========


Pavil ate and ate. His body hungered and demanded more food, to replenish itself. So he obeyed the demands and ate everything Natalya fed him.

“So I assume Lord Varha will return to idleness, once Philip is saved.” He said in between the spoonfuls of food he dumped into his mouth.

Natalya Varha smiled triumphantly.

“Fornalin is going to fight, Pavil. Not only for Philip, but for Persia!” She said excitedly, she enjoyed delivering such good news.

Pavil smiled, even though his friend was in such a dire position, getting beaten for Pavil's escape and beaten every 3 hours for it as well. But a smile was called for, if an angel smiled at you.

“After you arrived, and was mended, me and Fornalin talked. He realized that not even the forests of our home was safe from the evil of the world any more. And soon the darkness would be on our doorsteps, and such action against it then would be futile. So, for the sake of our son, he vowed to fight, he vowed to defend. He took an oath to take back his father’s kingdom, and he asked forgiveness from King Elias, for sitting idle while dark men took what was rightfully his. So early this morning, before the sun even gave warning to its rising, he rode off for the Rock Mountains.” She was happy. Hope sprouted from where there was none.

Pavil Famidan was equally joyous. He too felt the power of hope, and it felt good…

[Easthaven I]

The Skirmish
November 20th 1467AD

Pavil finished his food and his conversation with the beautiful woman, and decided to go outside to receive healing from the fresh air.

Then he noticed Fornalin Varha had returned. He was preparing his white stallion. He looked different, for a black cape ran over his back down to his legs, and a gallant mark was upon it. The mark was royal. It was a crowned white wolf standing proudly above the golden hilt of a silver sword pointing downward, and on each side of the blade was a black wolf howling in unison, in honor of the white wolf. The tailor of the stitching was a talented Persian, probably the best. Fornalin also had a new sword, sheath and belt around his waist. And a bow was slung over his back with a bag of golden feathered arrows. Pavil became even more optimistic, the rescuing of his best friend seemed more likely every second.

“Good to see you up and well, Pavil. You’re lucky the arrows did not run too deep.” Fornalin said as he strapped the saddle upon his white horse. A black spear stood from the ground next to him.

“Yes sir.” Pavil replied and then began telling the short tale of his escape while looking at the white steed standing with pride. Obediently allowing his master do as he will, knowing the familiar feeling of a battle nearing.

“You ready?” Fornalin asked as he finished strapping on the saddle, and patting the horse on the neck.

“More ready then ever, Lord Fornalin. Let us go kill the savage cowards.” Pavil ranted.

“Haha. You will not fight, my young friend. You will guide me to their camp that you escaped from.”

“What? I can fight. Just give me a weapon and we will crush them together.” Pavil said as small amounts of adrenaline seeped into his system.

Fornalin picked up an old rusty dented breastplate and a hammer, and handed it to Pavil.

Pavil grabbed the objects in disbelief.

“This is not very kind, not very kind at all. And it is hardly a time for a joke.” Pavil bravely scolded the heir to the Persian throne.

“No joke, Pavil. You will not be fighting, but you will be needing those. Do not ask why, just do as I say.” Fornalin commanded. Pavil surrendered the argument. Fornalin then mounted his stallion.

“Well where is my horse?” Pavil asked sincerely.

“Do you forget already? Persian thieves have it, and you will get it back. For now, you shall ride with me.” He said as he extended out his hand. “Hurry, Pavil. They are already far ahead of us. We shall ride day and night to close our distances. Your mind better be clear, for we need to find that campsite before it is too late.”

Pavil ran and jumped behind the Immortal. Fornalin leaned and grabbed the spear from the ground. The white stallion rode as if on air as they galloped into the wilderness…


=========================


November 23rd 1467 AD
They rode for two days, and on the eve of the third day they arrived at the campsite where Pavil made his escape.
Fornalin searched the ground for tracks and after a few moments realized the Persian outlaws marched eastward, deeper into the forests instead of south to leave it. So they followed their trail, not resting but a moment.


=========================


The fifteen men marched in a column, the point man farther down the trail to give warning to any dangers ahead. The leader was the sixth man down the column, Philip Brancus marched on foot right behind him, and the nine others followed with the two extra horses trailing the last horseman. Not much conversation erupted during the day as they marched, but in the night they camped and there they conversed with one another more liberally.

As they rounded a corner the second man called back to their leader.

“Captain Megido.” He called.

“What is it?” Answered the leader.

“Its Clorik. He seems to have halted.”

Megido contemplated this for a moment then understood that Clorik probably ran onto somebody else’s trail. For if it was more serious then Clorik would have signaled.

“Carry on, we will see the cause of his halt.” So they marched on towards their fellow thief.

The rider was but ten yards behind the point man, Clorik. Clorik seemed slumped, his head pointed downwards.

“What is the hold up, Clorik? You know this isn’t the proper way to halt the column.” The rider eased closer with his followers close behind. The rider rode slowly to the point man’s side. His eyes widened as he discovered a golden feathered arrow protruding from Clorik’s lower neck as it slowly came into view.

The whistle of an airborne arrow broke the silence as it pierced into the man’s left ear and into his head. The dead man fell off his horse and slammed into Clorik’s horse as he plummeted to the ground. Clorik’s steed galloped forward causing the corpse of Clorik to fall backward onto his fellow victim.

The men of the column were caught by complete surprise and hesitated. Another arrow whistled from the woods and struck the third rider. Then another whistle ended the life of the fourth man.

The horses stirred and Megido was frightened by this unseen killer.

“There! Release your arrows upon the foe! He is to our left!” A shower of arrows came from the eleven remaining riders. But they couldn’t hit their target. He was but a shadow moving swiftly about the trees.

Wheeeeeeew! came the call of death.

The rear man fell.

The young riders released another volley of arrows, but it was futile. The swift shadow could not be hit.

Wheeeeeeew!

An arrow struck into the left eye of the fifth man of the column, sending him to the earth.

More rustling was heard from the forest, and a dark figure could be seen among the trees before the desperate preys released more arrows. But the blond Persians dwindled and the sole shadow remained.

[I]Wheeeeeeew![I]

A golden streak flew through the air and claimed the life of another.

Eight of the fifteen were left. Philip stood still as a statue, engulfed in disbelief.

“Enough of this! Unsheath your swords, men!” yelled Megido the leader, as he prepared to charge.

Then the flight of the golden feathered arrows stopped. And came sounds of hooves stomping the ground, and of a horse’s heavy breathing came from the shadows.

“CHA….!”

CLANK! CLANK! CLANK!

The unexpected sound came from behind the riders, Megido and the others turned their heads. Expecting an ambush from behind. That was Megido’s folly. As the riders turned their heads for that split second to the other side, the pounding of hooves erupted as the shadow exploded out onto the young Persians. A black spear, like a lightning bolt from the gods, came down from the shadow warrior as it pierced Megido’s armor and entered his chest sending him backward off his steed. The Persian to the right of Philip had his head hewed off by Domasken.

Philip took advantage of the situation and ran off to a safer distance from the battle.

The six remaining could not wreak havoc upon the shadow warrior using their numerical superiority because they were tightly packed together in the column.

The shadow warrior deflected the scimitar strike from the Persian on his right, who was the first now in the column. Magnata Krigo blocked another strike and with a quick swing of Domasken the twenty-one year old Persian was headless.

The ambusher guided his horse to the next victim, blocking the man’s sword and keeping it in the air as he lifted his leg and kicked the rider off his horse. He quickly gave his attention to the next man who was immediately on him. Their horses were side by side as they battled each other. Another rider came to his comrade’s aid, and the shadow warrior began fighting off two men. The man on the ground got up and began making his way through the riderless horses to battle the ambusher as well.

With another block to each man, he quickly rolled backward off his white stallion and ran to Megido. He pried off the black spear and threw it with the strength of a demi-god into one of his mounted foes. Three remained.

The grounded man charged at him carelessly. The sole warrior spun, avoiding the man’s charge, and then thrusted his sword into the young Persians’ lower back, below the armor. The man howled in pain as he fell to his knees.

One of the riders got free of the herd of horses and charged at Magnata Krigo. He ducked at the charging man’s swing, as he did so he removed his dagger and threw it at the rider who didn’t charge, stabbing his shoulder but not killing him. The rider now behind the warrior reversed and charged again. The Immortal waited until the last moment before he dodged to the other side of the horse and struck at the man’s back as he sped past, knocking him off his horse. He rushed to the downed man, and thrusted his bloodstained sword into the back of his neck.

The last rider, wounded, began to run off down the trail. Fornalin Varha, patiently but quickly, dropped his sword and grabbed his bow. One more arrow streaked the air. One more corpse fell off his horse…

[ChrisiusMaximus]

FANTASTIC !!!

[Easthaven I]

Together into the Shadows
November 29th 1467AD

After the skirmish Fornalin gathered his golden feathered arrows. Philip and Pavil recovered their swords. They dragged the dead riders far off the trail and covered them with sticks and stones, not willing to give the time to give them a burial they did not deserve. Pavil tried to throw away the old rusted breastplate and hammer but Fornalin made him keep it. They gathered the horses and tied them together, then began marching back to the house of Varha.

Midday of the 29th they were still marching, at a slow pace considering they were herding fifteen other horses and equipment with them. Neither Philip nor Pavil spoke much, they were still awestruck by the skirmish. One man killed fifteen trained younger soldiers and received not even a scratch. No doubt lingered any longer, if there ever was doubt, that Fornalin Varha could fight.

“Thank you for saving my life, Lord Varha. I am in your service. Pavil told me you decided to stand against the Russians. So you have my word, that I will follow you wherever you may lead.” Philip said as they marched through the woods.

“Me and Philip come as one. So I am under your command as well, my lord. If you shall have me.” Pavil said immediately.

“That is good to hear.” Said Fornalin, not looking back. “I shall have you both.”

Later in the day, another conversation sprang.

“Lord Varha, who were those men that captured us? I thought no one entered these forests.” Asked Pavil.

“They were just bandits, traitors to Persia. But they were highly trained and equipped. The Russians, they equip them and pay them. For the sole purpose of doing as they will to the Persian lands and its people. They hire these mercenaries to crush the spirits of the people. Unleashing well-trained barbarians to pillage, rape, and murder is quite demoralizing.”

Pavil grunted in acknowledgment.

They continued the march…


==============


December 1st 1467AD

They still continued, not resting once. Through the nights, through the days…they marched. Accompanied by fifteen riderless horses. Philip broke the silence.

“What will we do now, Lord Varha?” He asked, wondering their first move towards war.

“Tomorrow we shall arrive back at my home. There we shall rest for one day. Then we will pack up and ride out once more.” He informed them as he ducked a low branch. “Three men can not fight the Russian Empire alone. We need to plan, and we need to gather our friends. Spread the word to the people that Persian liberators are arising from the ashes, and the Persian Kingdom will suffice once again. If they have the hearts you two are so confident in, they shall prepare as well. They will grow more grain and stock more food to sustain armies. They will gather able men, ready to serve under a new Persian army. Blacksmiths will secretly begin making weapons and armor. Tailors will secretly stitch what needs to be stitched. All of this will occur quieter then a whisper, and as hidden as the stars in the fog so that the Russians will neither hear nor see the preparations of the reconquest of Persia. For that was the code my great-grandfather implented during his reign, when the threat of the samurais of Japan was at its highest. But Persia remained safe then, my father repelled the invasion at the age of twenty and no one witnessed if the code would work. We shall see if the people remember…”


=================


December 3rd 1467AD

The horses were packed, Philip and Pavil were already mounted. A cold breeze blew through the strands of the beautiful silky hair of Natalya, giving the warning of the arrival of winter. At her side stood young Elias. Fornalin approached them to say his farewell.

He kneeled to his son and gave him a hug.

“You take care of your mother, Elias. Here,” Fornalin said, as he took a pure silver ring from his forefinger, “take this. This is the heirloom of the House of Varha. Only the ones who wore it knew of its existence, and only Kings possess it. My father gave it to me. And I to you.”

The clever boy took the ring, and clasped it in his hand as he nodded to his father.

Fornalin stood to meet the eyes of his wife.

“I will return, Natalya. Don’t worry.” He said.

“I can’t help but worry. But I’ll get by.” She smiled, tears forming in her eyes. Making them even more angelic.

“If there is danger, you know about the cave.” Fornalin said. Natalya nodded.

“If I do not return…if pressing matters keep me from here or if I feel that danger is near, then I will send for somebody to bring you and Elias to safety, my love.” He said as he touched her face.

He kissed her with passion, fearing not being with her. For she was his light in a world of darkness. So he feared being away from her…not having that light. But as long as she lived that light lived, compassion lived.

“We will meet again.” He said as he turned and ran off. Jumping with skill upon his horse. The three riders galloped away…Together into the shadows.


==============


OOC: Thanks Chrisius.

The title of this section is similar to another. It fits better here. So……

I'm getting the feeling this is going to be a long story...

Feedback please. Any kind will do, even a puking smiley

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Long eh oh good Ill get me slippers and settle down for the next part of this epic in the making.

[TheGuitarist]

Crazily awesome. Loved the wild battle sequence. Can't wait to see where it's going.

[Easthaven I]

Lol...slippers...


"Crazily awesome"... I like that. Thanks.

[Easthaven I]

So Begins the Rally
December 12th 1467AD

The travelers had finally arrived at their destination.

Fornalin did not say much to Philip or Pavil on where they were going, he just said “To enlist a brother”. So they rode through Persia, north bound. Fornalin kept mental notes of the sites he saw. He saw the pain and suffering the people went through. The Russians acted like arrogant gods, doing as they will to whomever and whatever. They were great in strength, showing that the simple troops assigned to garrisoning Persia were professional. Though, Fornalin noticed that the greater the distance from Russia, the less Russian troops…and less power.

Light was fading. The mounted three stood on the crest of a distant hill, beholding a large home. Smoke came from the chimney and the glow of lights flooded from the windows.

“Who is this man, my Lord.” Philip asked.

“An old childhood friend, a loyal warrior from the Immortals, and a true brother.” Fornalin then kicked his horse and galloped down the hill. Philip and Pavil followed.


====================


As they neared the home, a man came out…armed with a bow.

“Trespassers! Speak now! Or face death!” He called as they galloped near.

Fornalin halted as he raised his hand, signaling Philip and Pavil to do likewise.

“Do you not recognize an old friend?” Fornalin said.

“You speak friend, but your face is hidden.” The man said, keeping the string in tension, “The sunlight is all but gone. Identify yourself with words, stranger.”

“I am your Captain.” Fornalin said, “Your friend.” He eased closer, “Your brother.” The light from the open doorway first captured his horse and then himself.

The man lowered his bow slowly, caught with an unexpected surprise. His awestruck expression quickly changed to a smile as he opened his arms in welcome.

“Fornalin Varha! Brother! I am flooded with joy! Such years have passed since our last meeting, it would have been a shame if I would have released my arrow and concluded our first meeting since so long. What brings you so far from your lovely wife.” The man said.

“And lovely son.” Fornalin informed. The man smiled in satisfaction, “Me and my companions have rode without much rest since our departing. Let us rest and reacquaint before we discuss our purpose.”

“As you wish, my brother. Please come in and eat. My wife is readying dinner, we shall set a place for three more.” The man led them in.


The man was Lord Cornelius Valen. His father was one of King Elias’ closest friends and advisors. He grew up with Fornalin and they grew into a mighty friendship. They were tutored together and joined the military together. They both showed tremendous promise and were recruited into the newly experimentally formed unit called the Immortals where both rose to the top quickly. Since childhood, Lord Cornelius served as Fornalin’s second in command and a lot of the times they shared command. Together is what made them invulnerable, not just Fornalin, which so many people seem to believe. Long ago, they both gave an oath to each other to be forever brothers. Lord Cornelius held much of Fornalin’s trust, second only to Natalya. He was a tall man, much like Fornalin. His hair was lighter, and his face shaven. His eyes dark, sharing the same experiences as Fornalin.


=====================


They talked for hours, mostly about the past. They informed each other of the happenings after their parting so long ago. They told each other about their families. Fornalin learned that Cornelius’ two sons had died. One from a strange disease, another from murder…the murderer was unknown for the boy was found hanging from a tree. Cornelius suspected Russians. When Cornelius talked about this his face became somber, and he began taking more frequent drinks from his ale. But he finally changed the subject…

“So, now that we have caught up on old times. Shall you tell me the purpose in which you bring yourself here on my doorstep, Fornalin?” He asked.

Fornalin placed his drink back on the table.

“I’ve come to ask for your service, my brother…once more…” Fornalin told him everything. Of Philip and Pavil’s visit, of the skirmish in the woods, and of the events he saw during his ride through Persia.

After he finished there was a long pause. Lord Cornelius sat, contemplating.

“I must admit, out here we are seldom touched by the Russians or even much news of the world, much like yourself, Lord Fornalin.” He said and paused. Then he continued, “We must gather the Immortals once more. And spread word through the people…the Kingdom of Persia is on the arise.”

“So you will join me?” Fornalin asked.

“We took an oath, Brother. Do you remember? During our time in the enemy prison. To serve each other. To never forsake each other. I will not forsake you now. Our swords will be drawn together, once more.” They clashed their cups of ale together and gulped the remnants of the alcohol. Their spirits were rekindling. These men were warriors. Born for war. Their souls existing for that sole purpose. So when war comes to them, while other men become frightened and heavy-hearted, these men smile in anticipation, their blood boil and their spirits become enlightened. They will not admit it ever, but deep in their souls…war is their nourishment.

After their realization of a difficult war on the horizon, they began talk of planning.

“Do you know where Lord Eleazer is located? He will be of great help. But I do not know of his whereabouts.” Fornalin asked.

Philip and Pavil just sat by listening to the kings of men discuss the plans of liberation. Both very proud to have been the ones to have started it all.

“I am not sure, Fornalin. Brother Eleazer would be of great help, indeed. Such a loyal and brave warrior. I will ask around, I have a few friends gifted in such knowledge of tracking. I will send for him tomorrow.” Cornelius Valens replied.


Lord Eleazer Gordian. He met Fornalin and Cornelius while their first beginnings in the Immortal unit. After several battles and certain events, Lord Eleazer, too, took an oath of Brotherhood with Fornalin and Cornelius. The three became gods of war during their time as Immortals. Unbreakable loyalty pulsed through their veins. He was but an inch shorter than the other two. His hair was long and dark. He was a big man, bulging muscles intimidated all who dared try to duel him. A full-grown beard he grew, never shaven since boyhood. Some say he was the most warmongering of the others. Such hot-tempered, he was.


“You know, we could use the wisdom of our old friend and mentor.” Lord Cornelius said.

“Master Zhuge Liang…” Fornalin whispered, remembering the man who taught him everything. … “The skills of a true warrior come from his mind, not the sword”…he remembered the calm patient voice, so many years ago it seemed.

“Does he still live? For my memory sees him as old when we were but boys. He must be even older, now” Fornalin said.

Cornelius laughed.

“Haha. Yes, I too remember. But he does live, indeed. Deep in the mountains of the north, he lives a life of solitude, now. The word ‘old’ does not do justice to his age. Ancient is more like it.” He laughed.

“He is not Persian. Nor do I believe Russian, Greek or any other race of the known world. Have you heard the stories?” Fornalin said.

“Indeed. They say he came from unknown lands in the far distant west. Many men have tried to explore there, but it must be too far if it does exist. Many explorers have gotten lost at sea trying to venture there.” Cornelius said.

“Mysterious man, our mentor is. But the wisest of all the men I have come to witness.” Said Fornalin. Cornelius nodded in agreement. Fornalin continued, “This is what we shall do. You say that you have trustworthy men living on your lands and working for you. Tomorrow, send those men to ride out in all directions, spreading the word of the Resurrection of Persia. The riders will also contact all the Immortals or at least spread the word to them about the gathering, they will rally here at your home. Philip and Pavil shall stay here to welcome them and take care of your wife. Ourselves shall ride to the north and seek counsel from Master Zhuge Liang. That is our plan for now, my brother.”

“A plan, indeed. Tomorrow we shall ride side by side, Brother. I look forward to seeing your white stallion, Cyrus, back in action.” Lord Cornelius said as he nodded in the direction of the horse’s location.

“Oh you will my friend. You will indeed.” Fornalin took another drink of ale.

[unscratchedfoot]