Emperor of Legendia

The sun was at its peak now. The climate was slowly turning to hot and humid. After a long morning jog, Marco and Peter started to return to their barrack.

Marco was a bit upset, “I don’t feel nice about it.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know... I mean I’m feeling guilty of...”

“...stealing the book?”, Peter asked.

Marco nodded.

“Too late mate! Let’s finish the last chapter and then confess to Lord Zimon about it... you know, I guess he won’t get mad at you if you speak the truth.”, Peter suggested.

Marco shook his head, “No, Peter. He restricted me from knowing the third method. He said that it would only make me feel miserable.”

“Why? Because it was something related to Irasy?”

Marco shrugged.

“So what have you decided? You’ll return the book?”, Peter asked grimly.

“Well... I think I’ll have to persuade him for allowing me to read the book. Why not give it a try... at-least I won’t feel guilty of disobeying him.”

Peter placed a hand on Marco’s shoulder and smiled, “You always take the right decisions, my friend... and I think you must always follow what your heart says. Go ahead... I just wish that he will give us... oops, I mean you the chance to read the book.”

Marco smiled and said, “You know, I love you when you support me.”

Peter’s smile vanished, “You mean you don’t love me for the rest of the time?”

“Shut up Peter!”, Marco chuckled. “Tonight I’ll head to the palace and will talk to him.”

“You’re his favourite lad. Don’t worry. Aaah! These milk wafers from your country... they are amazing man!”, Peter said as he tore open the leaf cover of the wafer.

Jack, Reiford and Debril stormed in.

“Hey Peter!!... Look this is cool.”, Jack broke into laughing fits.

“I dare you Jack!”, Debril shouted as he locked Jack’s neck in his arms while Reiford coudn’t control laughing and howling on the floor.

“He was... Hahaha.”, Jack struggled to speak as Debril shut his mouth with tight hands.

Reiford started instead, “He went on to propose an Irasian lady near the Furry Gardens....Aah!!”. Debril let go of Jack and started chasing Reiford in circles.

Jack panted as he completed, “And guess what, when he knelt down to give the flowers to the lady... his pant... the crotch completely tore off at the bottom!”

Debril punched Jack in the stomach.

“And hey...”, Reiford cried out, “he was wearing a pink underwear!!”

The barrack burst into laughter fits for the rest of the day.

The moon glistened high in the sky. Marco wore his warrior suit, wrapped his scabbard belt and set out for the palace. The Irasians were returning to their houses for a peaceful sleep. Marco hurried across the busy lanes and reached the palace gates. He spotted Zimon and Olgreg chatting in the gardens.

Marco bowed slightly as Zimon found Marco waiting at the gates. Olgreg just walked into the palace with a cross face on seeing Marco. Zimon asked Marco to wait in the hall of archways as he was a bit occupied for a while. Marco nodded and he watched Zimon disappearing into the palace. Marco looked at the two moustache bearing guards, unmoved and un-twitched like a statue. Marco walked in the palace quietly and waited in the hall of archways besides the huge mosaic. Marco remembered the room from where Zimon and he flew away on Zulfain. It was at the rear of the palace. Marco thought it would take a while for Zimon to return and he could use the time to explore the palace his father used to own. Marco climbed up the spiral staircase which led to Zimon’s room. It was quite dark, so Marco watched his steps carefully. Marco stopped mid-way of the stairs when he heard some angry loud voices from Zimon’s room. Marco tip-toed to the end of the stairs and pressed his back to the wall besides the open door of Zimon’s room.

“Just answer my question! You did it, DIDN’T YOU?”, it was Zimon shouting at someone.

“You have no right to conceal it from me. I think I have done nothing wrong by revealing the truth!”, it was Crevol’s voice from the other end.

“Inspite of my orders, Crypus... you disobeyed me!”, Zimon spluttered.

“Who are you right now? A king or a friend?”, Crevol lashed out.

There was a long pause before Zimon spoke coldheartedly, “A king!”

“Alright, your majesty! I’m ready for any kind of punishment, my lord. What are you going to do? Hang me?”, Crevol blurted.

“Madness!”, Zimon raged, “Try to understand! It was a difficult situation for me!”

Marco thought it is wise not to lurk around and wait for Zimon downstairs. Just as he turned, Zimon said, “Whoever sneaks by the door shall reveal him... please.”

Marco froze.

“Now!”, Zimon said impatiently.

Lowering his gaze, Marco entered quietly.

“What have you heard, Marco?”, Zimon asked gently. Marco looked up nervously. Crevol’s face was boiling red hot.

“My lord... I was just...”

Zimon raised his hand and Marco fell silent. Marco started to feel numb and went under a trance. He felt someone intruding his mind. His head started to feel heavy.

‘He’s reading me’, Marco thought. ‘Yes, I’m reading you. Relax.’, Zimon’s voice rang inside his head. His memory started to replay from the moment he and Peter went for jogging this morning. He was in the barrack now with Peter. The conversation regarding the book reoccurred in Marco’s mind. ‘What book?’, Zimon asked but did not wait for a reply. He went back deeper into his memory until Marco found himself in the school now. Marco started feeling uncomfortable and he resisted a bit. His mind clouded and as if a boulder has been kept on his skull, an unbearable pain shot across his head. ‘Don’t be tensed... clear your mind and relax. The more you try to resist, the more it will inflict pain in you.’, Zimon’s voice echoed. Marco eased himself although he was feeling ashamed of displaying what he has done. He was walking in the dark narrow store room. He kept the book under his jacket. He read the last words in the book. He was listening to Zimon’s and Crevol’s fight.

Zimon released Marco’s mind. Marco opened his eyes to find everything spinning around. He could see four Zimons and three Crevols. Zimon stared at Marco, expressionless and unmoved. His hand was held out as if asking for alms. Marco nodded immediately and dropped his hand in his warrior suit and pulled out the black hard back book.

“I was about to...”, Marco tried to explain.

“...I know.”, Zimon cut him off.

“You stole that from my school? How dare you?”, Crevol’s anger just doubled.

“I’m sorry... I was really carried away by it. It was all an accident in the first place. I never knew about the wall.”, Marco said.

“You read everything?”, Crevol asked resentfully.

“No...”, Zimon answered for Marco, “Not that atleast.”

“Anyone else knows about it? About the wall?”, Crevol asked to Marco.

“Just Peter.”, Marco muttered.

“How can you show that book to him?”, Crevol blustered at Marco.

“They are better friends than we are, Crypus!”, Zimon taunted at Crevol.

“I don’t believe you are starting that in front of Marco!”, Crevol said and snubbed away.

“Marco, you can leave. Thank you for not reading those from which I forbid you to.”, Zimon said looking at Crevol.

“No... I’m extremely sorry, my lord.”, Marco looked down, “My lord, can’t I...”

“No, you can’t have it!”, Zimon snapped back.

“Sure. I’m sorry again.”, Marco bowed and hurried out of the room.

His cheeks were bright red. He could feel his face burning. He was just happy enough that that no one jumped down his throat. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that there seemed something very wrong happening between Crevol and Zimon. As much as he wanted to mind his own business, he could neither drown this curiosity as he never heard the two talking in such a tone. Marco looked back up the hill at the palace which was quite a distance away now. The air had suddenly stopped. Marco felt a change in the brightness for a moment. For a moment, he thought that the surrounding had darkened a bit more than it was supposed to be. Was it due to Zimon’s magic on Marco’s mind that his vision had temporarily dimmed? But everything seemed to be very normal the very next moment. Marco silently observed around. There was no one on the streets. Marco gazed up at the sky and caught a slight glimpse of black moving clouds. He froze as something strikes his mind; he had seen such clouds before. The darkness engulfed the palace in no time. Rest of the surroundings in the vicinity of the palace seemed normally lighted. Marco sprinted towards the palace wondering what news the messenger has arrived with this time. He reached the gates, straining his eyes due to the change in brightness. Marco realised that the two guards were knocked down on the ground. He quickly checked their pulses. ‘Just unconscious.’ he said to himself.

Marco strode into the palace with the sword out in his right hand. ‘This creature is up to no good’, he thought. The candle lights had been unsurprisingly blown off. His eyes itched in the darkness. He stopped in the middle of the two paths, one leading to Zimon’s room and the other to his uncle’s. He thought Zimon would be able to take care of himself in this situation; Olgreg is who needs to be protected. Marco trotted carefully avoiding brushing against the wall. He silently approached the open door of Olgreg’s bedroom. Marco heard a familiar hissing sound from Olgreg’s bedroom. He clutched the sword tightly and squeezed in through the open gap, enough for him to accommodate, in to the room. A faint moon light could be distinctly seen out of the window. Marco concentrated on adjusting into a clear vision of things around him. He spotted a large bed in the centre of the room. A terrible chill ran down his spine on seeing what the messenger was about to do by the bedside. The messenger held a sword raised high, pointing straight at Olgreg’s chest. A desperate cry unleashed from Marco, “NOOO!”

Olgreg opened his eyes wide and leapt sideways, over Fiera, just in the nick of time as the sword sunk deep into the mattress. Fiera screamed as she jumped off the bed pulling Olgreg near the wardrobe. Olgreg’s was petrified at this sight, his mouth completely dry. The messenger hissed furiously pulling out the sword from the bed and turned to Marco.

“You interrupt my work, fool!”, the messenger hissed.

“What do you want?”, Marco blustered at the faceless creature.

Fiera weeped silently in Olgreg’s arms as the other two faced each other with swords in their hands.

“The old man’s blood is mine.”, the messenger said.

“Oh...I’m sorry but you can’t have that. It’s too costly.”, Marco said defiantly.

“Fool! Let me kill him and I will spare your life.”

“Kill neither and still you won’t be spared.”, Marco said his grasp tightening.

“You know who you speak to ... boy?”

Marco sneered, “Yes... a mere junk of the Dark Lord’s filthy soul.”

This was enough to outrage the messenger. Hissing sharply, he advanced at high speed. Marco instinctively ducked as the messenger swung the sword above him. Marco answered with a blow and the swords clashed each other. The room clanked with each other. The messenger glided over to Marco pushing him down on to the floor as his duel with Marco went in vain. Marco growled in anger. He leapt up and jumped on the small cabinet besides him and sprung forward in air, striking the messenger, slashing into the black cloak. Marco felt as if he had struck into nothing. A terrifying unbearable shrill ran across the palace from the messenger as the sword pierced into his body. Marco let go of his sword closed his ears tightly with both the hands. The creature shrunk smaller and smaller and vanished away while Marco dropped on his knees bringing everything back to normal. A pin drop silence loomed over as the room slowly turned brighter.

Zimon and Crevol stormed into the bedroom. “What...?”, Zimon paused, “Marco?” He looked at Olgreg and Fiera shivering in the corner by the wardrobe. “You okay?”

Hamidh entered in the havoc shouting, “Ma’aza Hasal? Ma’aza Hasal?”. He was followed by Marvelo who stomped in with his sword in his hand. Marco almost forgot that Marvelo was staying in the palace as well.

Marco was panting hard on the floor. Zimon lit up all the candles in the room with his staff. Zimon said, “That was a messenger’s cry. You attacked him, didn’t you, Marco.” He observed the sword lying on the floor.

“Killed him...”, Marco replied as he got up. Hamidh gasped.

“He was going to attack Olgreg. Just then Marco entered and he saved us. Bless be Marco!”, Fiera said and ran towards Marco and hugged him tightly. Marco felt a blood rush around his cheeks. Olgreg sat on a chair silently.

“But why would a messenger attack him?”, Marvelo growled, confused.

“The Dark Lord hates those who help us. I believe that he just wanted to create fear amongst others to set an example as to what results if you help Legendia.”, Zimon replied.

Olgreg remained silent still.

“We shall leave by the coming dawn.”, Zimon spoke.

“What?”, Olgreg snapped, “Why?”

“I can’t afford to threaten your safety. I want no more blood on my hands.”, Zimon replied.

“Watch your words, brave king!”, Olgreg stood up, “This is a battle between good and evil! Not just you and him. I am not scared of losing my life. We all shall fight against him, no matter what it takes.”

“My friend, I have made my decision. We are leaving or else their army would turn up against Irasy.”

“None of you can survive with men of thousand against ten thousand and that too without your special weapons.”, Olgreg said angrily.

“You don’t speak like a warrior, Olgreg.”, Zimon said, “I can prove that wars can be won without magic. Courage and strategy is all we need to win a battle and we have both of these.”

“So your final word, is it?”, Olgreg asked.

Zimon nodded. Olgreg bit his lower lip, “Then can I have the honour to send my remaining troops with you?”

Zimon placed his hand on Olgreg’s shoulder and calmly said, “You have sent half of your army for Hul’s protection. I need you to protect your country by the rest. Don’t worry for us. I assure you with my heart. This time victory is ours.”

Olgreg simply sighed. Zimon looked at Marco and Marvelo and said, “Get the men ready. We are heading to the Dark Dume.”

Marvelo affirmed, “Aye, ma Lord.”. Marco nodded, “I shall leave then.”

“Thanks, Marco...”, Olgreg muttered, almost to himself.

Marco turned back and looked at his uncle. Olgreg nodded slowly in appreciation. Marco wished he had said something but a mere nod was all he could reply with in return.