UNRAVELED

The Kingdom of Riana

Tihon Rooks, partially asleep, opens his eyes to the clanging from the opening of the dungeon door. Immediately the door was opened wide, three Riana Soldiers strolled in.

Tihon took a deep breath then gazes up to the Soldiers, “Just for formality sake, I’m not going to be executed without a fight.” He made himself clear.

“Not today Tihon,” a voice familiar to Tihon spoke from behind the Soldiers.

Darren, a young Commander walks amidst the Soldiers, taking a stand in front of Tihon; although he was in his early thirties, his long dark hair brought out his twenties looks.

“Prince Fredrick has ordered for your immediate release.”

“Like hell he would,” Tihon spoke with certainty, trying to hide his relief and happiness on hearing the great news.

“It’s true Tihon, have I ever lied….”

“Really, we are doing this,” he stood on his feet, “lets’ not forget you were close by when my father was murdered.” Tihon poked Darren’s chest - holding his eyes with his.

“I am truly sorry for not being able to assist your father,” he placed his hand on his chest, “but I swear to you with my life, I will do everything within my power to find his killer,” he touches Tihon’s shoulder, “trust me on this.”

“I’ll put faith in your word this time Darren, for old time sake.”

“Take him to his chambers and provide him with a suitable meal.” Darren looks upon the Soldiers, “when he is done direct him to the barracks,” the three Soldiers stood at attention then Darren took his leave.

BEGINNING OF THE END

The barracks of Riana is located just beside the outer walls of the Castle compound. It is a large area stretching through a suitable land space, freely open with no walls enclosing it; holding a good number of cottages. In this defended space is a training ground and five vaults well built with strong timber to hold prisoners.

Along the track in front of the barracks Darren and Prince Fredrick, mounted on their horses were in a brief discussion when Tihon rode his horse into their mist.

“Nice of you to join us Tihon.” Prince Fredrick appreciated.

“Don’t get all comfy with me,” Tihon replied bluntly. “I’m only doing this for my father and Darren here.”

“Fine by me, as long as you are in the search with us, Darren address him on the details.”

“After the incident in the fifth district happened under my command, we investigated it and found no trace of the perpetrator. Then three days after, the west section of the sixth district went dark.”

“Dark?” Tihon interrupted.

“Yes, there were no interactions and day refused to dawn in the district, I reported immediately to Prince Fredrick,” sighs, “it was then he sent Sri Jerrod Rooks and his elite squad to investigate the cause. A day past and morning came back to the sixth district but no sign of life. I and some of my men went in, only to find every single elite Soldier dead all slit by the throat and a hay of ash.”

“I was told my father died while fighting off unknown outlaws, not some occult group.”

“That was how I ordered the news to be spread to prevent panic.” Said Prince Fredrick.

“Both commander Royce and his men, who were in charge of the sixth district were not found.” Remembering he has something, he reached out to the side of his horse, drawing out a single-edged sword having a slight curve towards the tip, bearing an edge that seems it could cut through any steel, it rang with an assurance that its wielder was no ordinary person.

“This was the sword found impaled into your father’s corpse.” Darren glanced at Tihon.

A good look at the sword, Tihon squinted his eyes at it like he had seen it before.

“You knew who it belongs to,” Prince Fredrick suggested noticing the look on Tihon’s face.

“This sword belongs to Elroy.”

“Who is Elroy?” asked Prince Fredrick.

“Probably the wounded fellow and only survival we found in the ash.” Darren replied with a doubt.

“I met him in the fifth district,” Tihon recalled, “he was new to town and lost, I approached him to help him out with directions and I showed him the route to his destination before he offered me a drink and that was the last time I saw him.”

“Till further enquires he’s a suspect.” Ordered Prince Fredrick.

“If you permit me your highness, can we get moving.” Darren sheathes the sword, Prince Fredrick nods in agreement, with Darren taking the lead, they rode their horses down the track towards the town.

BEGINNING OF THE END

As stormy as the sky was, a hawk flew its way through the vigor wind until it came to open sky were it began hovering over hundreds of green tents in a valley stretching as far as the eyes could see. Finding its way through the tents, the hawk rested on the stretched hand of a Drokan warrior standing by the entrance of a marquee, stationed in the Center of the tents. Tied to its leg was a well folded paper which the warrior pulled out before entering into the marquee.

There was a banquet ongoing inside the marquee, Drokan warriors drank and cheered as two young slave maidens brutally and violently fought each other with knives.

At the far end of the marquee sat Dorak Herra, drinking from a human skull. Dorak Herra is the name given to the leader of the Dorak Clan; to be a Dorak was a big deal in the Clan. Before the Dorak becomes old and weak he picks seven women, either from his clan or slaves from raids. Then he beds them and waits for the result, if a maiden were to be born she would be trained to be the carrier of the next Dorak’s child, which apparently is her step brother.

The boys that are born begin cruel and vicious training by age ten, those strong enough to survive are forced to fight to the death at their nineteenth year and by twentieth year, depending on the Dorak’s age, the one survivor goes on a journey with his father to the northern mountains.

No member of the Clan knows what transpires there, but the father never comes back and the son always comes back filled with wisdom and stronger than his father, ready to rule his clan with a common goal, liberate the world from the oppression of power.

The present Dorak was brown in complexion, tall and dashing, ripped in size, having multiple scars all over his broad chest, his long straight auburn hair gave him a wicked beauty as did his turquoise eyes gave a daring appearance.

Kalak was his real name, after four generations of misuse of the Dorak Herra’s powers, Kalak brought things back to order - but his main purpose was not conquest. Although he moves with the will of the first Dorak Herra, he has an hidden objective of his own - even his followers perceive it and fear him for it.

On getting to Kalak, the Drokan warrior goes on his knees then offers the paper with both hands. After a short while of reading, Kalak stood on his feet, influencing a great silence in the marquee.

“Commander Zodaikal wis seda (Commander Zodaikal is dead),” he spoke with a dense voice in the northern tongue.

He looks down on the warrior who handed the paper to him, “kirim pesen menyang Commander Lafiki kanggo miwiti panyiapan sisih kidul, pamrentahan kita minangka dewa wis diwiwiti (Send word to Commander Lafiki to begin the establishment in the south, our reign as gods has begun.)”

BEGINNING OF THE END

Kingdom of Aylon

It was the fifteenth hour of the day, as though waiting for someone or something the gates of Aylon were wide open guarded by four Warriors, clad in light armor and helm.

Out of the Fir forest came a man, gory and wet, head tilted down. He staggered his way into the open, approaching the gates, dragging a sword behind him.

Two Warriors on the watch tower on each side of the gate kept watching the surrounding areas their eyes could grasp when the partially dead man came into view. A close look at him from that distance the Warriors knew he was one of the lookout sent to scout the Fir forest, with a high pitch whistle from one of the Warriors on the tower, the four Warriors standing below turned their attention to the approaching man.

“He's one of the mercenaries sent to survey the forest, he seems to be in a bad situation,” the Warrior on the tower assured, “approach with caution, there’s something strange about him still.”

Three of the Warriors raised their shields at a high level then fixed their spear forward. Walking side by side, they approached the man while the fourth Warrior followed behind, ready to assist the wounded fellow.

Now in range of sight the man gently lifts up his head, eyes hollow as night, Benny wore a blissful grin on his blood-covered face.

No warning or glimpse of weakness, Benny charged towards the approaching Warriors, the foremost three were quick enough to avoid Benny; unfortunately, the fourth wasn’t.

Benny beheaded the Warrior sent to offer a helping hand, everyone stood still for a moment, stunned by the bewildering situation; with an alarming cry one of the Warrior charged towards Benny influencing the other to follow behind.

Panic filled voice the Warrior on the tower screamed out. “First division, take formation.”

The alerted Warriors seated behind the wall, nine in total, hurried to the entrance before drawing their swords as they took the hanging right stance - a knight defensive stance were the sword is raised with both hands and tilted downwards to the right.

Right after deflecting a strike Benny evaded another then struck at the Warrior, who deflected his attack with the shield leaving Benny wide open. With a perfect thrust another Soldier impaled Benny at his side.

There was no response from Benny, he was like a walking corpse. Before the Warrior could think of the next action Benny chopped off his hand; he went on his knees screaming, blood sprouting into the air, Benny was glad to end his misery with a slash to the head.

Terrified and traumatized the last two Warriors took a defensive pose - their shields held high, not willing to attack head on. Gazing at the sky Benny pulled out the spear from his side then tossed it on the ground, after whispering to himself he advanced towards the gate.

Three Warriors now in the tower wielding javelins, fixed their gaze on Benny. Sure of his aim; the first warrior lunched a javelin at Benny who evaded it, another came whistling towards Benny but he was swift enough to duck under it, then the last, like it was nothing Benny deflected it.

With preciseness he threw his sword at the tower which stabbed one of the javelin warrior in his chest.

Falling backwards he landed beside the Warriors in formation, good look at the dead Warrior they knew Benny was on another level, what manner of man charges before trained armed warriors without a weapon - the terror of death could be grasped in most of their eyes; eventually a day like this was inevitable.

“Prepare for battle,” one of the Warriors in front screamed out to encourage his subordinates, noticing the intensity in the atmosphere, although the sweat dripping down his face said otherwise.

At that point Benny stopped meters before the Warriors, silence broke out and the intense atmosphere deadened allowing the hoof beat of a galloping horse to take on, even the Warrior dropped their defensive formation, their hopeful eyes watching. Just as Benny turned around a figure chopped of his head as it rode pass him. Benny’s headless body went on its kneels engulfed in black flames.

On getting to the gate the figure halts his majestic stallion with a rear; the figure wore a leaf-green hooded salamander wool cloak, even with the covering his muscled physique was not hidden, proving the figure out to be a man. Mounted on his horse his height could still be put in the average class.

“Who might you be?” A warrior looking down from the tower asked.

Unveiling his hood his short dark hair fluttered in the passing puff of air, he was brown in complexion and by looks seemed to be in his late forties.

“I am Allas Roach,” he spoke with a profound tune, “from the South-west Kingdom, Ramenia. I am here to see Master Irison," he sheathes his sword.

“Allas you say, here’s the thing, you just killed whatever he was with just one swing," the Warrior points at the burnt up body of Benny, now being inspected by two Warriors. "Why should I allow you through theses gates?”

“You will be answering to me if he’s late.” A valiant male voice spoke from behind the Warriors standing by the entrance.

Looking forward Allas sets his eyes on an older man mounted on a horse, though his looks still deemed him as young as Allas.

“Good to see you again master Irison.” Allas greeted with a bow.

“Long time no see Allas,” Irison replied. “Shut the gates, double the defense on the tower and gate; send a search party into the forest to scout what has transpired and bring those corpses in for a proper burial.” Irison ordered.

The Warriors stood at attention then shared themselves to the various task.

“Come in Allas, we have a lot to discuss.”

“Indeed master,” Allas trots his horse through the gates.