Desperation Bellows Unhindered
Thump, thump
It was that sound which first woke Grahamas up. The beat of his own heart echoing in his ears, but the darkness still blinded him; his body still unconscious as the world happened around him.
Thump, thump
“Is he dead?”
“I think… Maybe… No. No, he’s breathing!”
“Good, be careful. Don’t move him too quickly.”
Thump, thump
“Is he going to be well?”
“We’ll have to wait, but he looks like he’ll make it.”
“Good. That’s good.”
THUMP, THUMP
He awoke with a jolt, looking around in a panicked state. His last conscious memory was of being attacked, when he came too he worried he would be in that same predicament. But as his frantic gaze flicked about he found he was no longer in danger, nor even outside. Bits of light slipped through the cracks in floorboards above him, dust and dirt swirling through them. His head spun as he tried to get his bearings, eyes adjusting to the dark as they fell upon women and children alike—all huddled together, looking as bewildered as he from his sudden awakening.
“Where…am I?” he said, slowly calming and trying to catch his breath.
A middle-aged woman with soft green eyes and curly jet-black hair streaked with gray approached him with a cup of water in hand, pushing it in front of him , “You’re safe in Loruze,” she said softly.
Graham took the water and nodded thankfully to her. “What happened?” he asked after a short time, trying to figure out exactly where he was.
“While you were battling with the soldiers we made our way here. It’s normally a storm shelter under the barn, but it also works when we want to hide from Idimus’ troops. What happened outside, I would not know. We were down here long before you were brought.”
Graham sighed as he set the cup down, head still full of fog as he tried to piece together the events that led up to this. He remembered the fight, recalled Rhimaldez leaving Drogan incapacitated and driving his spear towards him, but his eye caught a frail hand creeping out from a shadowed corner—then a bright light. That was the last thing he could remember. He pushed his hands to the ground and stood slowly. The person slipping from the shadows had to have been Kalinies. He never traveled without Drogan and whatever spell he had cast was still affecting Graham. The Champion tried again to shake the feeling of fatigue and detachment as a door above him creaked. He turned, tugging his sword out, trying to ignore the woozy feeling that stayed with him.
But it was an elderly man who poked his head through the doorway, “They’re gone. We’re safe.” Graham let out a breath and relaxed, those around him slowly moving up the ladder and filing out. Grahamas allowed everyone to go first, tucking his sword back into its sheath and waiting patiently. The sun poured down through the hole and filled the room, as he stepped up the ladder it fell upon him as well and washed away the remaining dizziness that circled in his mind. His eyes blinked a few times and adjusted to the outside world.
The elderly man, now kneeling down to lock and cover the door looked up at Grahamas, somewhat surprised and relieved, “You’re awake!” he exclaimed as he stood. “I thought when I saw you that you would be out for a while.”
Grahamas shook his head then glanced to the sky, trying to gauge what time it was. “How long?”
“An hour, maybe two…”
Grahamas sighed, but it could have been worse, “What happened?”
“During the battle, a few of us stayed behind to cover the entrance and make sure that no one found it. It was then that we saw the flash and heard a loud noise. We saw you fly back from the blast. Most of the soldiers did as well. Lucky for us, you landed close by and the soldiers that were still awake were too busy with the other one to worry about where you landed. So we dragged you to safety and put you down there.” The man stood, then moved to the exit of the barn and motioned for Graham to follow. “They searched for you, but that furry fellow started making a fuss and they couldn’t control him. Took all of them just to get him handcuffed. They left in quite a hurry.”
Grahamas’ eyes turned all around him as he tried to envision what had happened, “So then he’s gone? Taken?” he asked regretfully.
“Aye, they took him. Headed northwest.” The man raised a finger and pointed, but Graham didn’t have to look to know where they were going. It was an answer Grahamas expected and all the while feared.
Kaldus.
Graham quickly took the man’s hand and shook it firmly, “Thank you. You saved my life.” And as fast as he had shaken the hand, he turned and started heading towards the fields.
“Where are you going?”
“To save him. There’s still time!”
The man looked north, bewildered as to why he wasn’t headed that way, then back to where Graham was standing, speaking as he did so, “Aye, but they…” then stopped when he realized there was no one there for him to address.
Grahamas ran the entire way to the field. There were five trees total within it; one for each of the four Champions of Highlace that came before him. Three of the trees were too far away to be the one he was looking for, as his coronation had been incredibly close to Loruze. So only two were a possibility, both to his right with one about fifty feet away and the second another twenty from that. As hard as he tried, he could not recall it exactly. He remembered the day, the ceremony, even the prayer he had said; but he could not picture which side of him had the tree when he planted his own.
And he had precious little time to figure it out, with haste he rushed across the field to the first tree—hoping that Tallvas had left him some clue, much like he did the first time. He walked around the tree twice before realizing that the Duke had not, at least on this one. That prompted Grahamas to move just as hurriedly onto the second. His hand traced the bark as his eyes scanned slowly, he had made it only halfway around when he found something scratched into the bottom of the trunk. This time it was not a letter “T,” as he had encountered earlier—but the markings of what looked like an arrow pointing down. It was rough and sloppy, as if an animal had done it—and for all Grahamas knew, one had. With nothing else to go off of, he knelt down and began ripping at the grass, then digging into the dirt with his bare fingers. “Back to my roots,” he chuckled, amused at how literal Tallvas was at times.
He had entered nearly a foot into the ground when his fingers hit something hard, he pulled back to look into the hole and saw a patch of leather that lay uncovered by the dirt. Again, he started digging, this time around it, pulling the earth to either side and trying his best not to waste any time. He was halfway down around it when he slipped his fingers beneath the bag and pulled hard, straining for a moment with little results. Then he gave another tug and stubbornly the dirt loosened, tumbling under the bag as he pulled it up—the earth finally releasing the treasure.
Graham set the bag down for the time being, once more pushing his hands in to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind.
Nothing.
His attention again fell on the sack, stained fingers anxiously tugged it open and removed his next piece of armor: Hope’s Helmet. Like his gauntlets, the helmet silver in color. The front smooth with a long slit from left to right for the eyes; below that were six holes: two for the nose and four over the mouth. The entire face was a single piece, wrapping around the jaw and chin and then down around the neck so it would sit comfortably on his collarbone. And as the face and top of the head were smooth, the back took on the same shape of the gauntlets; sharp and curved to resemble flames, the tips pointing towards his shoulders as if they had been slicked down from the top of his head. Beneath the steel, chain-mail, that would allow the entire helmet to connect to the torso of the armor…once he found it.
Grahamas turned it to look straight on and a tiny letter with Tallvas’ symbol tumbled out. He set the piece down momentarily and broke the seal to read it.
Grahamas,
Well donE Champion. It is time fOr you to returN home.
Tallvas
Tallvas could only mean one place. The Champion stood in haste, crumpled and shoved the letter into his pocket then bent to pick up the helmet and slide it over his head. His breathing echoed loudly within the mask, “Remise Yavaldes,” he uttered and the helmet flashed brightly and then disappeared, tucked safely below his skin.
From that, he faced north. The new location played into his plan; and if Rhimaldez was truly being taken to Kaldus then he wouldn’t have to back track once he rescued him. He had to hurry though, from what the villagers had told him, they had an hour, maybe two, of a head start. His only hope was that they were treating the Captain as they did Elryia when she was captured: dragging him behind on foot to wear him out as opposed to a cage or horseback. It would be harder on Rhimaldez, but it would make it much easier to catch up to him. Grahamas would need that time. It then dawned on the Champion: after two failed attempts, Idimus would not take any more chances. He would send every free guard he had, not to mention Kalinies and a very enraged Drogan, to lead the way to the castle.
Grahamas would need help.
He only hoped that Elryia and the others had not pushed themselves too hard, that they had not traveled too far around Sharia. Graham huffed, wishing he had another favor coming from Nallar. Despite all that was going on around him, though, he took a moment, only one, to gaze at the tree—his tree. It seemed as though it was flourishing once more and the Champion bowed his head, giving tribute to Lornya as he had when he was first here and reciting the same prayer “May I have the strength to lead with compassion. May I have a resolve powerful enough to inspire it in others. May my heart be true, my motives virtuous, my spirit valiant. And whether I fail or succeed, may I at least be brave in the attempt.”
The Champion allowed a heartbeat of silence then shifted abruptly. He made his way across the field and pushed through town; giving a brief nod to the man that had pulled him to safety and receiving one in return—appreciation given to Graham for saving them all in the first place. Making his way to the back of the village and shaking his head as he cast his eyes upon the homes that had burned down. Why Idimus was here and what he wanted was all beyond Grahamas. More taxes, random attacks to destroy any sign of hope or rebellion…Graham did not know, but one thing was for sure: there would be many more homes burned had Rhimaldez not shown up when he did. And for that, Idimus would surely kill him.
Pressing through, he returned to the same place where he’d entered, hoping and praying that his loyal steed had remained; though he’d left it untied for nearly three hours now. And as he worked passed the final building, it came into view: Feiron. His horse, standing in nearly the exact spot that Grahamas had left him, head bent down as he tugged a tuft of grass from the dirt and chewed it slowly.
“Good boy,” Graham said as he approached, one hand on his back the other running down his neck slowly. “I hope you’re rested old friend, we have a long, hard ride ahead of us.” As if the beast had heard and understood him, it raised its head and whinnied, Graham mounted and got situated in the saddle before they charged on.
The one advantage Grahamas had, aside from his horse, was that he could cut his time in half—maybe more—if he rode straight through. The roads all over the land were long and winding, riding through them rather than on them he would close the gap between he and Elryia, but it would be a much harder trek. He didn’t have a choice, every moment they were getting further and every step led Rhimaldez one more closer to Kaldus.
Legends Transcend To Light
The sun was waning and for three hours straight, Graham had not let up for more than ten minutes here and there to rest his horse. He was trying to gain as much ground as possible before he lost the light. No longer able to see what was ahead of him would force him to slow down immensely, or risk crashing into something.
Feiron could use the rest as well, though he hadn’t tired in the slightest yet, for which Graham was thankful. He had started worrying about Rhimaldez the moment he’d heard about his capture. With so many guards loyal to him, it was possible that Idimus would order Kalinies to kill him and leave his body on the side of the road rather than risk a revolt, were he to execute him in front of the people. Then Grahamas remembered who Idimus was: the King punished anyone who betrayed him, even members of his own brigade. He made a spectacle of it to show others what would happen if they followed the same path.
The Champion was glad that Ramia and Merick were far away and safe; with Rhimaldez now considered a fugitive, Idimus would be even more relentless in his attempt to capture them. Then he would use them against the Captain, hurt him in any way he could. Thankfully, that was one thing Graham would not have to worry on. His only concern now was about Rhimaldez and getting to him in time.