Revival Through Revelations
Despite weariness, they traveled all through the night in order to make it back to the valley. Back where it was safe; where they were in plain view but any approaching enemies were at the same disadvantage.
On the horizon, the tips of Sharia forest started to surface and a sense of relief washed over them. They were out of harm's way, at least for the time being—with a renewed desire to bring forth freedom, as they had witnessed captivity firsthand.
Elryia had stayed close to Graham the moment they escaped, and hadn’t left his side since. Samsun remained behind everyone, a watchful eye on Kaldus, though no one had yet chased them—which worried Graham. He imagined one of two scenarios playing out. Either every guard in the castle would have poured out to chase them or Idimus would seemingly not make a move, at least towards them. It would have been a lot easier to deal with every guard—there were thirty, forty at best. With such a head start it would have been simple to lose them, or drive forward on to the boundaries of Sharia—a place they would not tread. It was the lack of reaction that he feared. There was a slim possibility that Idimus was unaware of their escape, but with both Kalinies and Rhimaldez involved, Graham truly doubted it. More than likely the King had moved behind his kingdom, not to chase them but to dip into his reserves and call upon his army to hunt them down—especially since Idimus now knew who Graham was.
Lanyan and the others still did not. Graham had asked that they be patient once they left Kaldus. He wanted them close to Sharia before they rested and they had lost time recovering the horses that wandered during the capture. Gnert’s contraption was right where they left it; yet he no longer rode ahead of them, instead found a safe spot right next to the largest man in the group—Samsun.
Graham toiled on slowly and Elryia matched his speed, catching up to talk privately. “What are you going to tell them Graham?”
Graham shifted her direction, then straightened “The truth El, they deserve it.”
“Do you think we’ll be safe?”
Graham stared back at the kingdom they had narrowly escaped then to Samsun who very well may have saved their lives. “Aye, for now.” He responded while his mind trailed to the events within the castle, mostly to Elryia’s self doubt. He was impressed with the girl, and saw such incredible potential within her and wished only that she believed in herself as much as he did. Graham knew, despite Kalinies being one of the greatest magick-wielders in this age or any before it that Elryia would have come out on top—probably with little effort on her part. He believed in her power, he believed in her. She did not. She didn’t know her history or her own lineage. Graham did. It was only a sliver more than the knowledge she had, but it was enough for him to put an unflinching faith in her abilities. He only wished she shared his sentiment. But she was young and the whole world was there for her to discover still. He did not want to force her to tap into her true potential until she was ready. One day, though, she would discover that strength—find the resolve that Graham already knew she had.
“Hey,” El whispered, dragging him out of his daydream, “You well?”
Graham nodded as he began trailing his horse off the road, “Aye, just tired. I think everyone is. We’ll be safe if we stop for a few hours.”
Elryia glanced back to make sure the others were following, “You sure?” She whispered, turning her soft blue orbs to him.
“Aye. This is the second time he has tried and failed to capture you. He’s going to come with more force this time, but needs to organize it first.” Graham turned his horse to a small patch of trees. It was no wider than twenty feet but it would serve as suitable cover. “It will be better once we reach Sharia. Idimus will not tread there, at least not for now. But he won’t stop until the entire world is under his control. I just hope that the elves are aware of this and help our cause, even though they aren’t directly affected by the King.” Graham removed himself from his horse, “But I will keep watch, just in case.”
“Aren’t you tired?”
“I’ll sleep later. Besides…” Graham pushed a look back at Lanyan, who was now dismounting his horse, “I have a story to tell.”
Graham sat and made himself comfortable, Elryia next to him. Carsis, Merial, Gort and the rest of the companions joined them one by one. Although some somber, others paranoid, they all looked upon Graham with eager eyes and attentive expressions. All except Samsun and Gnert. Sam was still riding about the campsite, ever watchful, and Gnert was pedaling right along side him.
Graham waited until everyone was situated and even then, he paused—not sure how to begin. It had been years since he had spoken about his past, almost seven now. So he just started as he did the first time, when he had this conversation with Elryia. “You asked me who I am… My name is Grahamas Onmar Rhivaldeon. Once, a long time ago, I was the King’s Champion.” A few expressions went wide and others became anxious. The youngest of their group—Jeralyle—one Grahamas had not yet been introduced to took the most drastic of changes, turning from curious and excited to dumbfounded and shocked. Elryia remained vigil and Lanyan seemed almost confused. Grahamas, reading the look on their faces, interjected quickly: “Not Idimus. The King that resided before him, Lord Reiskin.”
“Reiskin? I’ve never heard of him…” Merial bade, looking between he and Carsis.
“Nay, few have. His legend has been ripped from every page of history and every story by the current King. Idimus destroyed everything having to do with his predecessor, as Reiskin’s era was one of peace and prosperity, of hope and unity. When Idimus became king, he slowly bled this land. He destroyed everything simply out of fear that if people knew how peaceful things were before, they may fight for them again.”
“No one fought him?”
“On the contrary. When Idimus first came to power everyone fought. But his army was massive, Kaldus too well protected. The only ones that could have stood up were…” His face grew cold, his emotions matched. “Regardless,” he began again, dismissing it. “The King made sure no one would ever remember that empire before him, Highlace.”
Jeralyle shifted. “Was it a good Kingdom?”
“Grand, actually. A place where people were free to live their lives as they chose; seek knowledge, practice magick, devote themselves to the Gods.”
Jeralyle, hanging on every word Grahamas uttered, leaned in. “Gods…?” he asked, half in awe. Like most, he had no knowledge of higher beings aside from the King.
“The creator, Yavale, and the goddess of love and fertility, Lornya. Idimus robbed the world of them as well. Only he was to be worshipped, no one else. He’s destroyed statues, buried temples, and burned their legends from the history books.” Graham turned his eyes towards Lanyan, “The elves, however, still maintain her as perhaps the greatest deity.” Jeralyle turned his gaze eagerly towards the Elf.
“Aye. A great struggle has endured to make sure her legacy remains intact.” Lanyan spoke up, turning from Grahamas to Jeralyle.
“Their legends and rights aren’t tainted or fabricated as ours have been. Sadly, people aren’t free to worship what they wish, mainly because they have no knowledge of it.”
Jeralyle wanted to know more about the Gods, to know more of the world that had seemingly been hidden from him—the history that had been washed away by a tyrant king and the passing of years. But he wouldn’t interrupt anymore; wouldn’t try to steer the conversation where he wanted it to go. As deep as his curiosity about these things ran, he knew others were more important. Mainly, why Grahamas was helping them and where they all fit in.
“So what happened? With Reiskin I mean?” Lanyan spoke up, not as eager as Jer to hear about the Gods, already knowing of them. Reiskin, though one legend he was familiar with was still unsure exactly how and why it ended. The one man that could answer his questions—who was actually there—sat right in front of him.
Graham leaned back, as his eyes searched the sky, roving through his memory to recall what happened, the expression on
his face torn and questioning, as though he were reliving it as well. “Looking back now, I should have seen it coming. Should have done something about it sooner.” He let out an exasperated breath, trying to cast the regret from his mind, as that wasn’t going to help anyone. “I actually knew Idimus long before he became king. He was a rogue thief and vagabond that I had encountered on more than one occasion. He made it a habit of harassing people coming to and from Daleforn, Highlace’s greatest city, where we all resided. He was harmless; at least he appeared to be—nothing more than a petty miscreant who was a thorn in all our sides. I arrested him half a dozen times, but he would always return and cause trouble for our peaceful way of life. Eventually his crimes evolved from theft to violent robberies. He began to spend more and more of his time in prison, within the city walls.”
Graham’s face soured, and he held his words for a moment, perhaps trying to piece together the events that led up to his kingdom’s fall. “Reiskin refused to execute prisoners, despite how violent or cruel they were. Most of them were excommunicated, taken to the barren wastelands that Idimus now calls home. When Idimus finally crossed the line,” all imagined Grahamas meant murder, but none voiced it “he was taken there as well as several others. That was our mistake, leading so many people—people that were shunned by the kingdom—into one place. It was there that Idimus amassed his army, one that he could safely tuck away where no one dare tread, where no one would find out. We had no idea. We just went on about our lives as though nothing was wrong. And every time we sent someone off to that wasteland, we were merely adding to Idimus’ army.”
For a moment Grahamas watched Samsun riding about the campsite, before turning his gaze towards Kaldus. “He returned one day, though looking quite different. He was atop a black steed, with armor to match. He wore a helmet made of steel, modeled after a human skull—black like his armor—but with two large horns coming out of the top, much like a demon. The armor’s plates were serrated like a saw, with extremely large teeth. It was quite gruesome, and nothing we were used to seeing in a place like Highlace. When he had left he was simply a man, when he returned though he looked like a warlord.” Everyone thought that they saw a smile flash on Grahamas’ face. “Though he still did not play the part. After much debate and threats of me returning him to prison, he made an agreement—though he was not in any position to do such. We would joust. If I won, he would allow me to return him to Kaldus, peacefully and without restraint. If he won, he would be free of his exile. So I agreed. He played it off—and very well—that he was only seeking vengeance, or that he merely wanted his freedom. So I would give him the chance to earn it back. I agreed to his demands.” And the smile on his face grew ever so slightly, “He was still nothing but a lowlife though and I had two hundred years to train. He was broken and beaten within a matter of minutes. But perhaps that is what he had planned, and as promised, he allowed me to return him to Kaldus without argument.”
With that, any look of joy Grahamas had faded, turning into a snarl that ripped across the man’s face. “What I did not know what how unsafe I was leaving Highlace as I escorted him back. The closer I got towards Kaldus, the further away I was taking myself. I didn’t even see it. Idimus gave no hint that while he was headed towards Kaldus alone, his army was making way to Highlace. Without me there to command the troops, they were all but lost.” He hung his head for a moment—biting back whatever rage had surfaced. “I, regrettably, thought all was safe. I had left Highlace’s court wizard, Samsun,” and he gave a quick acknowledgement to the man riding about, “and my First Knight Ristalln, in charge. Each was more than capable of leading the army in my absence. Yet, when I returned, Daleforn was under attack. An army had swept down from the north, with huge creatures we had never seen before—ones that were leveling our army and destroying our beautiful city. We tried our best to fight back, but our army was depleted.” Graham scoffed and glared, “Our army was not that large to begin with. All was calm; no one was ready for an attack like that. Especially when we believed that peace reigned throughout our kingdom. We had no idea such a force in the world existed. We were so naïve…”
Grahamas only stared at the ground for a long time until a soft hand went to his back and slid up to his shoulder—Elryia being its owner.
“It was over before it even started. Sam and Ristalln left with Reiskin, trying to save him. Even though we had been destroyed, there was hope that we could rebuild. I, after Highlace and Daleforn were no longer salvageable, went after Idimus. I knew, deep down, it was he who had caused this, but he was not to be found. Years passed, Idimus’ power grew, and I went into hiding. I searched, however briefly, for Samsun, Ristalln, and Reiskin; but I lost touch with them, eventually to learn of Reiskin and Ristalln’s passing.” Graham tried his best not to wrap his arm around Elryia and hold her to him. “I spent so many years just…devoid of any emotion aside from revenge. The more time that passed though, the larger his kingdom grew and the harder it became for me. I soon lost my desire to fight for anything. Idimus has ruled ever since, longer than I had. My two-hundred years to his three.”
"Wait," Lanyan blinked, taking a moment to calculate. "That would make you over five hundred years old."
"Aye." Graham verified, casting a look upon the group's faces, each one shocked, the Mage Jeralyle even more so than the rest. "Five-hundred and forty two to be exact."
"How is that possible?"
"The simplest way I can define it is magick. Tell me, have any of you heard of the Plague wars?" First the Elf shook his head, followed by all others. "No, that doesn't surprise me. Long ago, even before I was born, a plague ravaged the land. One that had not been suffered before, or one that we would see again. This disease drained the life from plants, animals, even humans. Anything that it came in contact with would age a year for every day that passed, eventually to fade away. " Grahamas turned impending eyes towards Kaldus. "The cause of the Plague was eventually discovered, which is a much longer story than we have time for, but I will tell you one day I promise. For now, the point is what happened after. With one third of the population dead and another third infected, the remaining elves, humans and dwarves became desperate to find a cure for those still harboring it. Sages, White Wizards and Scholars gathered in what is now known as Davaina to try and establish it. One particular Sage was a man named Savados. Through study and the help of all those around him, he was able to—overtime—discover the sickness actually derived from a form of magick. A spell, to be precise. Eventually, he was able to counter-act it by casting one of his own. His, instead of draining life, revived it, by constantly rejuvenating the body on a daily basis. The spell worked in returning those who had once been terminal back to their normal state. The effects of his lasted only a few weeks at first, but as the years went on, Savados perfected it so that only one casting was needed for... virtual immortality."
Lanyan perked. "What do you mean virtual?"
"We can still be killed. Stabbed, poisoned, frozen, starvation. We simply cannot age."
"Who is we?"
"Sorry." Graham chuckled. "I was getting to that. Savados eventually came to Highlace. In truth, he helped build it and later became the city's scribe and record keeper. As the courts of Highlace began to build, the spell was cast upon high-ranking officials. Reiskin, of course, eventually me and Samsun here." A mark of sadness traced his eyes. "Other Knights later on. Our design was to build an ever-lasting peace and maintain the structured noble council we had created—hoping it would last forever."
"And then..." Lanyan was afraid to say it. He could already see the pain on the man's face.
"Idimus. Of all my years of thinking on it, I believe he attacked Highlace for the spell. Evidently, he found it."
"What happened to Savados?"
For that answer, Grahamas looked to Samsun. "Killed." The bearded man regretfully replied. "Like all others."
The Champion sighed, and Elryia leaned over to wrap her arm around his shoulder. "I shou
ld have known better." Graham whispered, leaning into her embrace. "It was my fault that he became ruler, and my fault he stayed that way. All because I faded away."
"So why fight now? What brought that back?" Merial asked, a question that caused her eyes to narrow slightly then glint with a sense of joy; her cheeks raised and the dimples on either side of her mouth slowly indented. She wasn't smiling, at least not yet, but every part of her face seemed ready to. She looked between Graham and Elryia, almost knowing how he was going to answer.
“What brought me back?” Graham said, finding it hard not to brighten at such a face. “I’ll tell you. At first it started out as nothing but petty vengeance. I wanted simply to destroy Idimus, as he had done with everything I had.” Graham’s green eyes fell on everyone, back to Merial, and then to Elryia who still had her hand on one shoulder, head on the other. “But about thirty years ago, Lornya came to me…”
“You have met her?!” Jeralyle blurted out, no longer able to contain it.
Graham chuckled slightly and responded, “Aye. Several times. She’s actually quite pleasant. From time to time she would visit, especially during the age of Highlace. It was not a new experience when she had that time, but it was different. She came to me with a letter from a member of Highlace’s council, Duke Tallvas,” At the mention of that name Jeralyle’s face went pale, so severely Grahamas almost stopped his sentence. And the once awe-inspired expression on the Mage was replaced with one resembling dread. Graham, however, did not wish to question it in front of the group, so he continued, hoping his sudden distraction was not noticed by anyone else. “And a baby of all things. She asked me for a favor. She wanted me to care for the child. I’m not sure why she chose me for such a task, she merely told me that this child was incredibly important and that she trusted only me to watch over it.” The rage on Graham’s face subsided, “I agreed and when she handed the child over to me, I looked at it for the longest time, captivated by its glinting eyes, innocent face and the soft smile it wore when it stared up at me. I realized this child was special. It wasn’t at fault for its surroundings, yet it had entered a dark, very cruel world. It was about to venture, unknowingly, into an incredibly dismal reality. Its life had just started and it had a whole world ahead of it, but it shouldn’t be this world. It deserved a place where it could choose how it wanted to live; where it had the chance to be happy. A world it could believe in. One where hope flourished—not pain and despair.”
Elryia smiled and leaned into him, squeezing his shoulder. She had not heard this part of the story before—at least not in such detail. “So how is that child now?”
Grahamas nudged her playfully, “You tell me. How are you?”
Elryia blinked a few times and pulled back to see him fully, “That… That was me?” Graham nodded, staring for a moment. “But I grew up with Hoiyn and Emeira,” she admitted, a glint of sadness washing over her face.
“I wanted you to have a normal life, a normal childhood. That’s why I left you with them. I had gotten to know them over the years and they wanted a child so badly. I knew that you would be raised safe and properly with them. I did not want you to bear the burden of a life without a home, or without a place to stay. The life I lived. I checked on them frequently, as did Lornya, and made sure that no harm ever came to you. I just could not ask you to grow up on the road. It would have been too hard on you. You were already so important to me, that first day I met you. You changed my life.”
Elryia’s face turned gentle again as she started inching forward slowly, her gaze flicking back and forth along his before they closed completely, oblivious to everything around her—seemingly unaware that everyone was watching her. Grahamas, locked in the moment as well, no longer willing or able to resist as he leaned in—following her.
“So what did the letter say?” Jeralyle blurted out again, wrapped up in the story rather than the events that were unfolding before him. A few companions grunted, Graham caught himself and pulled back slowly, facing Jer and clearing his throat. Elryia’s cheeks turned bright pink and she put forth her best effort not to glare at Jeralyle.
She failed.
Once the two had re-settled and the initial embarrassment wore off, Graham was upright to address the question. “Tallvas had written the letter when Highlace was being attacked. It was…” He paused for a moment, “of little relevance when I actually had the chance to read it.”
Graham watched Jeralyle nod, disappointment evident on his face. Had Grahamas looked to his left, he would have seen Elryia wearing the same expression—though for a much different reason. “That was…” he began, but halted when the excitement on Jeralyle’s face turned to fatigue. All around him, others were exhibiting the same weariness: Gnert was asleep on his GOmobile, Gort was slowly sinking back against the log behind him and Merial had long since tucked her head against Carsis shoulder. “Was a story for another day.” He acknowledged.
“We should retire,” Graham whispered to Elryia, prompting the girl to look utterly surprised and Grahamas tried hard not to chuckle, “Not in that way, Love. Everyone. I imagine they are all worn out.”
“Oh…” she meekly muttered, her face again turning pink “He’s right. We’ve been through a lot, everyone and it’s only going to get harder. Go get some rest.”
Almost in unison, the entire group sighed and began separating to different parts of the field. Some didn’t even make it that far, simply falling asleep right where they were. Elryia stayed close to Graham, looking inquisitive. She had questions but this was no time to have all of them answered. However, one was pivotal, “I assume we are continuing with our plan?”
Graham rose with precision as not to topple her over and then focused on Samsun. “There is one thing I want to discuss, but would like to go over something with Sam first.”
Elryia tipped her head, staring as Graham walked over to the other man, both leaning in to discuss something, then motioning towards the group. Samsun nodded to Grahamas and he seemed satisfied, to finally make his stride back to Elryia. He held his hand out to her, helping her up from her seat, “Walk with me a moment.”
Elryia slid her fingers into his as she rose. Graham led her to a secluded area of Doren Valley before he actually spoke. “I know we talked about Sharia forest as the first destination,” he began, hand remaining within hers. “I want you to push around the forest for now and head to Mt. Forgas. The letter I mentioned earlier is a far more integral than I let on, but I could not go into details. I wanted only to tell you.”
Elryia blinked. Though he was a man of secrets, she always knew the reason he kept them. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Not wrong.” He still could not shake the look he received from Jeralyle earlier in the night, and realized he knew very little about the man. “What I have to do is essential to our success, in more ways than one, but it’s a long tiresome journey that will leave me out in the open more than I would like to be. I do not want to endanger you even further by asking you to make it with me.”
Elryia stepped back, and shot him a skeptical look. “Thank you.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood proud. “Now tell me why you really didn’t share.”
The man sighed, annoyed his ruse had been defeated so easily. “A feeling, nothing more.”
“Feeling?”
“A paranoid hunch. I simply would like us to learn more about our new party members before we reveal…everything.”
Elryia could not help but glance at the Mage. “You mean Jeralyle?”
“Aye. It’s not that I don’t trust him…”
“But it’s not that you do, either.”
He could only look sheepish. She sometimes knew him better than even he realized. “I’ve asked Samsun to stay with you in the meantime so you’ll be safe. He’s honorable.”
Everything in her screamed to beg him not to go, but Elryia could also discern when he was serious, and not going to be swayed, so she simply agreed.
He took a moment, t
rying to avert his unwavering attention. “It’s strange…leaving. I’ve not been away from you for more than a day since you were little. I surely do not want to…”
She reached up, pinning two fingers to his chin so that she could turn his face to her own. “Sometimes you have to do what you want, sometimes you have to do what is necessary.”
A long grin crept across his face. “Someone very intelligent must have told you that.” He had, several times, over their years together.
Elryia simply shrugged. “An old man did.” She giggled.
He chuckled back. “Well he was right, as are you. Though…I will miss you.
Before he could argue or pull away she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the side of his face. “As I you. Be careful Grahamas,” she whispered.
His breath caught in his throat for a moment, he almost debated—almost pushed her back—but eventually gave up, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her tightly to him, “Travel well, Elryia. Safely and swiftly.” He embraced her for a moment, then released his grip and turned southwest.
“Grahamas…” Elryia bade, so distracted by him leaving that she has almost forgotten what he told her earlier, “Why Mt. Forgas first?”
“I fear that Idimus is planning something—something very dangerous. If I’m right, he will not come immediately. He will wait. He will plan this time. Mt. Forgas is a much longer, much more open ride. It would be easier if you made that while there was no activity and hide away into Sharia in case a full-fledged attack is imminent. You will be safe there, and hopefully at journey’s end.”
Elryia nodded with acceptance, then looked at him with questioning eyes, “Do you really believe Idimus is plotting?”
Grahamas could not help but face Kaldus, “I hope that I am wrong, but don’t believe I am.”
Elryia narrowed her eyes and perked the corners of her mouth, “And what about you? What are you plotting?”
Grahamas didn’t smile this time; didn’t even blink, “War, Love. If Idimus is preparing for it, the so shall I.” Graham bowed and Elryia returned the gesture. She was under the impression that was what they were all doing, but it was obvious Grahamas had his own pressing agenda. She was about to ask him what, but he had disappeared into the night by the time she rose up from her bow.