Chapter 4. Devilium. Part 5.
The sun beat down mercilessly upon the sand-covered training field, as two warriors faced off in a fierce display of swordsmanship. Trevor, once a renowned adventurer, but now a paladin in training, squared off against Grand Paladin Ashindale – his muscular form glistening with sweat, beneath blazing light above.
Both men moved with practiced grace, despite their half-naked states; muscles rippling as blades sang out in metallic harmony upon clashing together again and again. They danced this deadly ballet amidst swirling sands, stirred up by furious movements surrounding all sides now – each seeking advantage over other through skill honed by years on countless battlefields, both on near and distant lands.
Ashindale pressed forward relentlessly; holy symbol glinting about neck, marking him as servant of god Mithra. Trevor parried stroke after stroke with ease, born only from long experience facing foes far worse than his current opponent. Yet still they fought on, neither man willing yield ground, even as sweat poured freely down backs, leaving telltale marks upon bare skin beneath sun’s unforgiving rays, beating relentlessly against flesh exposed to elements around them.
Finally Ashindale stepped back and smiled.
– Seems there is nothing I can teach you anymore. Actually, I have a feeling that you surpassed me long ago.
– I still have a long way to go.
Trevor stepped back and they both took towels, to wipe off the sweat.
– You could have bested me fair and square here today – there can be no doubt of your skills! – Ashindale smiled earnestly.
Trevor merely snorted derisively in response though, mind already wandering back through memory’s of his former friends and their skills.
– Perhaps, – he allowed at last reluctantly.
– You should trust yourself more.
– I will. One day I will.
– Why do you doubt it so much?
Trevor heavily sighed and looked at the sun. His eyes grew distant as he spoke, voice heavy with the weight of memories, long buried yet never truly forgotten:
– It was nearly forty years ago now, but I remember it like yesterday. My friends and I set out to slay a dragon – young and foolish, thinking ourselves invincible, – he shook his head ruefully: – We had a plan, each with our roles clearly defined. I was supposed to distract the beast, while they struck from behind in coordinated assault.
Trevor swallowed hard against rising tide of grief, threatening to overwhelm him even now, so long afterwards.
– But I got overconfident that day – convinced I could take down such fearsome foe single-handedly.
Ashindale listened intently, as the man continued his tale.
– I charged headlong against the dragon, but dragon laid a trap to me. Send me flying and I slammed into the wall. My love – she tried to intervene, to save the fool that I was.
Trevor’s voice cracked with barely restrained anguish, as he recounted those final – horrific moments:
– Myne… oh sweet Myne. Our genius mage. She loved me so fiercely – even when I didn’t deserve such devotion.
Hot tears streamed freely down his weathered cheeks.
– She saw what happened and acted without hesitation, – former adventurer’s eyes glistened with unshed sorrow: – Myne saved me that day. Dragon unleashed all-consuming fire upon us, – Trevor shuddered visibly, recalling events that forever scarred his very soul: – Myne held firm though; she held back fire, but died doing so. Died saving my life, – warrior’s shoulders slumped beneath weight of guilt and grief he had carried for so long now: – When flames died away at last, there was only ash, where she had stood.
A single tear tracked slowly down Trevor’s cheek as he finished softly: – Myne deserved so much more than such cruel end. I deserve nothing. I am nothing. I was suppose to die that day.
Ashindale reached out tentatively to place a comforting hand upon Trevor’s heaving shoulder, blue eyes filled with empathy for the warrior’s pain.
– I’m so sorry. What happened wasn’t your fault. Myne made her own choice that day.
Trevor flinched as if struck, shaking his head violently in denial.
– No! If I hadn’t been such a damned fool, rushing headlong into danger she would still be here now! – his voice cracked with barely restrained anguish: – I’ve carried this guilt for forty years. It haunts my every waking moment. Myne deserved better than to burn away in dragonfire, while I lived.
Ashindale squeezed Trevor’s shoulder reassuringly.
– You can’t change the past, no matter how much you wish otherwise. All we can do is learn from our mistakes and strive not to repeat them going forward. Your love for Myne. The way she sacrificed herself, out of devotion to you. That speaks volumes about what kind heart you truly have beneath all self-recrimination.
Trevor looked away, unable to meet Ashindale’s steady gaze: – A heart that killed the woman I loved most in this world.
Ashindale sighed softly: – You’ve punished yourself enough, over something beyond anyone’s control. Maybe it’s time to start forgiving that foolish younger version of self and move forward, with life left before you. Look into the future. We were invited to attend a ceremony. Lord Michael is planning to declare Age of Prosperity.
– Age of Prosperity? What’s that? – showed some interest Trevor, distracted from his tale a little.
– More people with jobs like Sages, Heroes and Spellswords were born in last three decades, than in past centuries together. Number of dungeons have been reduced on the continent. Perhaps archangel Michael even hopes that we could conquer Ancient Dungeons themselves.
– That is a nice dream. But probably no more than a dream.
– Why? Dungeon is a dungeon after all.
– No. I have been inside Ancient Dungeons. Each time my party almost died. We conquered ordinary dungeons as C rank adventurers. But even when we had two A ranks, and our leader was as strong as S rank, we could not conquer Ancient Dungeon. Four old ones in Rakshasar we managed, but never an Ancient one.
– Your party leader was as strong as S rank?
– She was. But she wanted to remain B rank. She always had as many secrets as an onion layers.
– Well perhaps new heroes will take on, where you left.
– Let us hope so.
* * *
Lilith, Sharr, Azael and Kragor sat huddled around a worn wooden table in the dimly lit tavern, their faces illuminated by flickering candlelight. The air was thick with the smell of stale ale and smoked meat, from plates scattered across surface. Lilith send Cian to gather information about Hawk band and their leader, and they were waiting for the boy, before making their final preparations.
They discussed plans for journey ahead into Ash Valley’s unforgiving embrace, beyond Devilium gates, which soon awaited them. Tavern door opened and figure stepped through doorway hesitantly, eyes adjusting to gloom interior after brightness outside, still hanging heavy above gathered forces here amidst shadows dancing along walls around them.
Cian’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of his companions, gathered around table amidst tavern’s dim interior. He strode forward purposefully, taking seat opposite Lilith, whose skull mask loomed large before him now in flickering candlelight.
– So, what did you find out about Hawks and their leader? – asked him Lilith.
– I have gathered some information about them,- he began, voice low so as not to carry too far through smoky air surrounding them: – Adamus is a seasoned mercenary, with many years leading raids deep into fomorian territory. He commands respect both of allies and enemies alike, for strategic thinking under fire, – tuatha boy leaned forward slightly, resting forearms upon scarred wood before him as he continued: – They say that no matter how dire situation becomes on battlefield, Adamus always manages to rally the troops with words alone – instilling confidence where once lay doubt amidst maelstrom.
Cian paused for moment, weighing next words carefully before speaking them aloud amid hushed whispers gathering around table, where companions sat waiting eagerly upon every syllable uttered.
– Anything about him personally? – asked Lilith.
Cian nodded slowly, his expression a mix of respect and admiration: – Indeed. Adamus began as lowly mercenary barely old enough to wield a sword properly himself, yet somehow he managed to rise through ranks with sheer force of will alone.
Cian’s voice carried an almost reverent tone now, as he continued recounting tale of legendary leader before gathered companions:
– Over years of countless skirmishes against foes both known and unknown alike, his band grew from ragtag group, barely holding together, into formidable fighting force, numbered near thousand souls, united under single purpose to follow banner of Hawk’s wherever it led.
He leaned back slightly in chair, eyes distant as if seeing visions of past play out before very gaze, here amidst tavern’s smoky interior surrounding them now still.
– Sounds impressive, – shrugged Lilith: – Anything about his companions?
– His right hand man, everyone calls him Knight, but his real name is Forronus. He is a knight from Patshar. He wears enchanted armor, and can use Sorcery. Nothing else worse mentioning.
– That is enough. At least this Adamus sounds like a competent leader. Let us hope his luck does not fails him, while we are with him.
Lilith sipped her ale. She was trying to decide if Adamus is a possible ally or future enemy.
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