Arimanthea by Wesley Belk (the reading strategies book TXT) 📕

Darkness.

“Things will never be the same after we do this,” the aged voice said.

The younger voice replied, “No, no they won’t and for good reason, if things were to ever return to the same as before, then…” it hesitated, “I suppose, change is simply not meant to be…”

“Are you ready?” The elder voice returned.

“I am.” The younger one said confidently then added, “I just hope the rest of the world is.. or at least will be when the time comes.”

“Very well, let it begin.”

* * *

The sun.

The air was dry, it hadn’t rained for five days and even the insects cried out for a little relief. Their clicks and chirps were offbeaten, and for a time the only sound in the air. The midday sun shone onto the dusty clearing, as a light eastern breeze whipped by. The stone fortification stood as a testament against the elements. It was three stories tall, two large openings, shut with enormous wooden doors. At each story an overreaching balcony jutted out.
Along the second balcony, four feet wide at the widest, two men stood, one was leaning against the balcony’s edge wall and surveyed the area. The trees swayed as the breezes gusted by, “Wind feels good, eh, Dennis?” he said pushing his rounded metal helmet up off his forehead enough to wipe the gathering sweat.
The other leaned against the inner wall, “That it does, Wade” held his helmet against his side and leaned his head back, his wet, matted brown hair barely moved. Bundles of arrows were piled onto the walkway, just to the side of each of their bows.
“The hell ol’ Grom’s got us watchin’ for at this time o’ the day?” Dennis continued bringing his head back down.
Wade turned his head, and the helmet fell back into place, “Whaddya mean? You don’t think anyone would attack in the middle of the day?”
“Why for god’s sakes, no!” Dennis’s face crunched together as if it reinforced his position, then he stood fully upright, “The best time to attack is under the cover of night!”
The insects’ cries got louder as the two men confronted one another in the verbal argument, then a man on the third story balcony called down to them, “You two, shut your whiny baby mouths!”
They went silent, and looked up, “You’ve been given orders to watch the Northern front, there’s reports of Knights in the area!”
The two looked at each other, then back up again, “Knights?!”
They guffawed at the ridiculousness of such a report, “Cap’n Deric? Whadd’they do?” Dennis started, Wade finished, “They catch a ride on a flying carpet?” They slapped and punched at one another as they continued laughing.
Captain Deric, the officer standing on the third story shook his head, then as he started off, the insects went quiet and the breeze lessened. A look of great concern came over the soldier’s already hardened face, something wasn’t right and for good reason. He looked out across the clearing that extended a good twenty yards into the tree line, from which a lone figure burst forth, running… fast.
Captain Deric flinched, he almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he pointed, and shouted, “There!”
Dennis and Wade were startled as well, and quickly went for their bows, but the Captain yelled down, “Don’t fire until ordered!!” Panic riddled his voice.
“Yes, sir!” They replied each grabbing an arrow and notching it. The man ran with incredible speed, his legs didn’t appear to be moving normal and finally the officer got a clear look at the man’s features, feathered blondish brown hair, rugged yet boyish looks, about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, short, well-built….
“Marsden,” he breathed, “It’s a Knight!! Fire! Kill him!” He pointed fiercely, “Fire at will!”
The yell echoed throughout the air, yet Marsden, the Knight, was unfazed. His brilliant chest plate armor dazzled as the sunlight danced off it. His eyes squinted into tiny slits, his breathing as regular as possible, given the circumstances; a scabbard and a rucksack hanging on his right side, a longer scabbard on his left, along with a solid steel shield strapped tight to his back. The equipment seemed to bounce rhythmically as his feet dug into the barren, rain-deprived ground. Two arrows flew at him and were equally driven off to either side as if some foreign disembodied sword had deflected them away.
Dennis and Wade looked at one another then notched another arrow. Captain Deric looked on, weighing the options of whether he should raise the alarm.
Marsden hated not having his weapons at the ready and instead relying on magical means for protection. The next two arrows soared outward and went to each side of Marsden jabbing indefinitely into the ground. Captain Deric shook his head and raised the small ivory horn to his lips and blew. The turbulent sound filled the air, awaking birds who’d been resting in the shade of trees nearby. It even seemed to rustle the insects out of their daze…
Prespiration drained off of Marsden’s face and the back of his head appeared as though it had been drenched with his waterskin. He wished he had time for such pleasantries, something like pouring the waterskin on his head. Under the current situation, however, that mattered little.
Just a bit further, He thought.
Dennis and Wade drew arrows once again, and released. The arrows dropped straight down only after a couple feet. Their heads flinched back, angrily they grabbed for their next two arrows when trembling befell the castle walls. The rest of the archer battalion were mobilizing.
I really hope Yassym don’t let me down, Marsden though as he turned sharply to the left, because his initial charge was leading him right down the middle of the citadel. Where he’d have been exposed to a multitude of arrows, whereas going to the extreme side, one way or the other granted him less missiles to deal with or technically less for his Knightly brethren to deal. The one schooled in the magical arts anyhow.
“Archers fire!” The command was heard and quickly followed by a chorus of creaking and tightening strings.
Marsden slid down onto his right knee exactly as he’d been told, there a soft patch of dirt was waiting on him, sand and dirt kicked into the air. Then the worse sound a lone soldier could ever want to hear in the middle of clear field, a hundred or more arrows being loosed.
Deric sneered, “Let’s see your magic user deflect all of them! Ha!”
Marsden instinctively made himself into as small a target as possible, and ducked his head down. The arrows soared downward, they were a mere twelve feet away when a wall of dirt erupted from the ground just in front of young Knight.
“Dammit!” The officer swore, then squinted as he watched the dirt along with the arrows fall away, and Marsden stood up, launching a solid object through the air. Deric tried to make it out as it soared toward the castle.
“Hold!” He called out, as the object got closer, he could see that it was only a mere rock! “Gah! Hahahaha!!”
Captain Deric laughed hard, the others did as well, until the sickly old voice was heard, “What the hell is so damned funny?!”
They quieted quickly, a few on the second level snickered and the officer replied, “The Knight believes he can defeat our stronghold with rocks!”
The wrinkly old man, with thinning white hair peered at the younger man, his tiny beady eyes seemed to stare right through Deric, he cocked his head to the left, grinned extravagantly and made a kind of affrimative grunt. He appeared amused, “Rocks, you say?”
“Y-yea-yes, sir!” Deric said, trying hard to stay his laughter, he looked away for a second, then back again, Grom turned and leaned hard against the balcony’s wall, “Marsden. Marsden Braxton!!”
The man’s screech reached across the expanse and even rattled Marsden’s eardrums, now standing fully, “Yeah, Grimly! How art thou?!”
Grom hesitated for a second, “Curse you, Brimstone! You are like a thorn in my backside!”
Marsden put his hands on his hips, the soldiers eyed one another wondering how long the exchange would last.
Marsden responded, “Pleasure’s all mine, you sick old fart!”
Grom snarled back, grinning, ending in a sing-song tone, “Meet my lovely new assistant, Sir Knight,” One of the doors popped opened, creaking, and a velvet deep purple cloak stepped out, “She’s been one exceptional student!”
Yeah, right! Marsden thought, Probably forced into it!
He relinquished his shield from his back, quickly tightening it to his left arm and with his right drew his broadsword from his left hip. During which time, the enchantress stepped into the field, while the door slammed shut behind her.
Her black boots, which came up to her knees, crunched against the gravel, all the while she was muttering something. As far away as Marsden was he could barely make out her lips moving, Mumbling prayers to the gods, already, huh?
Marsden hadn’t a clue what she was going to do, and if it was even a spell his fellow Knight Yassym could counter, C’mon, dammit, why isn’t that thing Ol’ Man Tanner gave me working?!?
The sorceress held her right hand out and grasped her right wrist with her left hand, Oh manure… Marsden dug his feet into the dirt, trying to ready himself for whatever the crooked magician was cooking up.
Marsden hated how the will of the gods were so easily swayed and low enough to have their power transduced through mere mortals. What Marsden didn’t realize is that certain gods didn’t mind seeing their power being wielded about, most times, carelessly…
Orange lights faded into existence in front of the sorceress’s outstretched hand, palm turned upward. They seemed to gather at one point, building onto one another. Until finally flames began dancing, “Oh, gimme a break,” Marsden grumbled, his muscles tightened, he gripped his shield ever tighter, pulling it as close to his side as possible, just peering over edge, “You seem frightened, Knight!” Grom jeered, “Perhaps you should pray to your gods now!” The old man cackled.
This can’t be good if he could’ve stopped her spell, he would have by now! Marsden’s thoughts referring to his magic friendly Knight-in-Arms, Yassym Spearsborn.
Yassym’s dark, graying eyebrows raised furling his forehead, and even causing undulations on top of his clear dome, only hair present was on the sides and back. Even it was beginning to gray from its once dark brown. A fist punched him in the shoulder, he winced, “Ow!”
A blonde headed lady, appeared to be in her late twenties, knelt down beside him, “Are you going to just sit here while Marsden gets fried?” She too was clad in radiant armor, whereas Yassym had on a simple teal green robe, with a collared blue tunic underneath, “Lady Templin please, the gods are very upset right now,” Yassym was making excuses, “They are not to be bothered right now.”
“So you’re saying Marsden’s all alone out there against a fresh new temptress?” Templin spoke harshly, “And a brigade of archers??”
He opened his mouth as if he were going to object, but had no grounds with which to do so, closed his mouth, blinked heavily and said, “Yeah, pretty much.”
Her azure eyes mesmerized him for a moment, and he blinked again looking down. But no sooner had the words left his