explanation!”
Vartan drew a deep, ragged breath into tired lungs surrounded by heavily bruised ribs, removed the bloodstained helm that was partly obscuring his vision and took a brief moment to observe the room.
King Arman and Queen Andrielle had produced only two children, Princess Helenia and Prince Derian. The two differed from each other in every aspect, and had never gotten along in their childhood. Derian sat comfortably beside the king, with a sly smirk on his face.
He’s enjoying this too much, thought Vartan.
Vartan’s instincts told him that the attack on the royal guard could only have been so successful if the assailants had known precisely where Helenia would travel, and the exact number of knights that would accompany her on her journey. Derian was one of the few people privileged enough to be entrusted with such sensitive information, and he hungered bitterly for the power of the throne.
Andrielle was the Queen of the Elves, and with her marriage to Arman she had forged a new alliance between humans and elves that would see the two races joined for eternity. The king was still young, and the wait to inherit the crown through his father’s natural death was too long for Derian to bear. The prince threatened more than the stability of Greenhaven. If the Elven Queen were ever to be harmed by human hands, it would ignite bloodshed the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the ancient war.
Vartan looked to Helenia and was momentarily lost in her beauty. The princess’s face was kind, her skin pale from lack of exposure to the sun. Her bright blue eyes looked deep into his soul, and he managed a smile before quickly looking away. Princess Helenia could only be wed with the unconditional written approval of both the king and queen. Suitors from other settlements would soon be seeking her hand in marriage, looking to forge alliances and further strengthen Greenhaven.
The love between Vartan and Helenia had existed in secrecy for many years. He was a mere farm boy turned knight, whose only tangible riches were those that the crown treasury allocated him for performing his duties to the throne. What hope could he ever have of gaining the royal blessing to marry the princess?
Vartan placed his crown-provided silver helm down beside his right foot with a loud thud that echoed far down the corridors of the royal chambers, and began to speak slowly through his cracked lips. “Your Highness, we barely escaped with our lives. How could we possibly have been ambushed with such precision and timing? This attack could not have been solely the work of thieves and vagabonds. They were armed with weapons forged by skilled hands, and fought with a purpose unlike that of any thief engaged in battle.”
Be careful, Vartan. I sense true darkness around us.
The elves held many well-kept secrets; Helenia’s ability to speak through minds was one of many elven gifts she had been born with and practiced privately with Vartan.
Forgive my intrusion, but she speaks the truth, young knight.
This voice was unknown to Vartan, and it sounded almost bestial. It held such immense power within it that Vartan was left momentarily stunned.
There is something you must see, and it is of great importance. Open your mind to me, and I promise you will come to no harm.
Vartan focused hard on clearing his mind and felt a sudden jolt as a connection was made with the dragon suspended from the outside wall.
With a blinding flash, Vartan found himself hovering above a place he’d never seen before, a dark room lit only by soft candlelight. It was as if he was within the walls themselves, and had become one with the stone. He heard the soothing sound of water as it gently trickled somewhere beyond the light, and soft footsteps approaching from afar.
A tall figure slowly materialised from the darkness. It wore a crimson hooded robe and had a small dark wooden chest in its hands that rattled heavily with the sound of coins. The hood hung low and shielded the face of the figure inside it, but there was something painfully familiar about it, and a wave of uneasiness overcame Vartan. This was evidently not the first time that they had met.
Calm yourself… this is only a vision, thought Vartan.
An old wooden table bearing various marks of wear sat alone in the darkness. The figure hesitated for a moment before walking towards the table cautiously. It slowly began to be illuminated by brighter lights which revealed the intricate golden artwork on his robe. The chest he held bore the royal crest of Greenhaven.
That’s not possible! Those chests are only given to-
Yes, young knight, your eyes do not deceive you.
Another figure approached with much haste from the darkness, and Vartan felt sick to the stomach at his presence. The new figure swiftly pulled his hood back from his head to reveal himself and spoke quietly but forcefully. “It is all here. You are well-compensated for your troubles.”
That’s Derian! I should have known.
“That may be so, young prince. As you know, she will be well-protected and this brings a certain element of danger which our kind does our best to avoid. What of the royal guards?” asked the mysterious man.
Derian's eyes narrowed at the man. “I’m sure you can handle some guards, can’t you? Or should I seek out someone else for the task?”
“Your words are unnecessarily sharp, young prince; doubting our abilities is an unnecessary wounding of our reputation. I hear many whispers of a loyal knight who leads them on this journey who has a particular talent of disposing of demons. What do you know of him?”
Derian sighed loudly, reached into his robe, and snatched a white scroll bearing the royal marks of Greenhaven.
“Here is a map of the surrounding lands; it details where Helenia will be traveling. Worry not of the knight, as I already have a plan for… dealing… with Vartan. If you somehow manage to kill him yourself, it would save me a lot of trouble and would land you the role of military advisor to me as your new king.'
Derian unrolled the scroll on the table and pointed out the exact location of the ambush.
'This is where I suggest you attack them. If all goes to plan, and you perform your duties without hesitation or incompetence, then the king’s famed knights won’t be around to protect him. Without the knights, we won’t have a problem. Now get to work and prepare. It’s time for my precious sister to have a little unfortunate accident.” Derian laughed darkly.
The man scoffed and snatched the scroll from the table. 'We don't question the jobs we are given; we only question the payment. But I now see why your cold heart is truly worthy of Kassina's affections.'
Derian grabbed the man roughly by the throat, and brought him close to growl in his ear. “Never forget who you are talking to! Did you bring me my special request?”
The mysterious figure forced away Derian’s hand angrily, reached into his coat, and slowly drew out a tall, dark bottle of liquid.
“ Never lay your hands on me! I am not one of your servants, and your moods have been unpredictable of late. The next time you grab me will be your last. I hope you appreciate how difficult it has become to fulfil your requests. People are beginning to grow suspicious of the disappearances…”
“Vartan! Vartan? Whatever is the matter with you?” asked Arman, who now stood from his throne.
Vartan drew another deep breath as his mind hazily returned to the present as if he was a sobering drunk. His head felt like a struck bell from the connection with the dragon’s mind, and he brought his hand up to his forehead in a useless attempt to ease the throbbing pain within.
Helenia stood confidently to address the room, but the look of concern on her face worried Vartan. “Father, the attack is not the fault of Sir Vartan. If he hadn’t protected us with his own life, I might not be here at all. By the gods, just look at him! He is clearly hurt. I suffered only a scratch and I am here to tell the tale of the ambush. Isn’t that what is most important?”
Arman turned his attention to his daughter and sat back down on his throne.
“My dear Helenia, you speak out of turn. Of course we are all relieved that you have returned to us. But until you have been asked to speak, I strongly urge you to display one of our most practised virtues-patience,” replied Arman.
Helenia sat back down heavily at her father’s reprimand. Her face reddened and her nostrils flared.
Arman turned to Vartan and cocked his head slightly. “From Helenia's reports and from what I know of you, you fought with honour, Vartan, and that I would not doubt. However, I simply cannot excuse the fact that Derian had warned you of a planned attack, and you chose not to heed his words.'
