Here We Go Again!

Ready for another adventure? I am. This is my late-night writing work. Let me know what you think of part 5! And remember, all profit from these posts goes to help me get to Brazil next year!!

Enjoy

“My Lord, is it really necessary to ride to this slum-ridden stench upon your land. Might it not be better worth your time to rid the kingdom of such rebellion and treachery? I- mean no disrespect, but, Kerim is the most wicked and vile parish of the nine. Its people depose you at every chance, mock your laws and decrees, and when you send emissaries to warn them of your displeasure and impending judgement, what do they do? They beat them, parting them through the streets laughing in their face: in your face, my Lord! These are not men of honor and they are no true subjects of your kingdom.”

The King sat atop a white horse, arrayed for battle, yet the King himself was garbed in a simple white shirt and breaches. He swayed to the trot of the animal, as did his companion which had spoken. Isis was a great warrior, his strong shoulders shifted, turning to face the King as he spoke. In his own country and among his people, Isis was a great terror, considered to be a god of great strength. Yet, one day the King came and saved his people from the Havarites, a vicious nation. Isis could not defeat the Havarites, but the King was more powerful. Isis came then went to serve the King.

“You realize there just going to throw mud at us and call you a fool and liar. Like the others.” Isis’ booming voice sparked the horses to bray in annoyance. His steed jolted him in his seat. He smirked. The King nodded, shifting sideways to look at Isis.

“You speak with your heart, as a warrior should. But our battle is not for the heart, but for the mind of our fellow man. These poor souls have yet to learn right from wrong. Would I be just in punishing them, maybe. But I’m not just a King of justice, but of mercy also.” The King replied sincerely. He was always sincere, especially to his companions. There were many who travelled in entourage with the King, but of his twelve captains, only Isis accompanied him to Kerim. The others found some excuse not to attend the company. The city had a reputation for its awful odor and foul mannered folk. It wasn’t exactly the most desirable destination in the kingdom. In fact. It was where the dusty road ended. The dirt road on which they traveled, and had done so for many days, stretched from one corner of the kingdom to the other. It began at the capital: Loridium, the most beautiful and cultured city on the entire kingdom. The road ended at Kerim, where it seemed all the dust raised by the many beasts, carts, and footmen which traversed daily seemed to deposit itself onto the streets of Kerim.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could change your mind.” Isis looked doubtful. The King just laughed and shook his head.

“Afraid not, Isis. These people are no different to me than all of the others in my kingdom. I love them as I loved your people when they rebelled against me.” The King’s gentle tone had a way of making its way into Isis’ heart. The warrior knew he could not convince his Master to reconsider, nor did he truly wish to if he was honest with himself. From the edge of Namereth, to the coasts of Hashem in the North, from the hardened Grimwails of the East, to the peaceable Elim of the dark forests of the West, everyone deserved mercy. Isis had travelled the kingdom far and wide with the King. Only once had his vengeance been delivered to rebels, and they were of his own household. Spies, lurking in the palace had infiltrated the very heart of the Kingdom. But shortly after taking residence in the palace, the King discovered their plotting and put an end to the treachery. For this, his reputation as a King of action went before him on his campaigns.

To the delight of the people, he mostly rebuked and dealt with the leaders over the people, rather than the people themselves. This accrued a following for him and much support from his people. He was loved by all wherever he went for he brought food to those ravaged by bandits and renegades, medicine to the sick and dying, and aid to all whose lives were in ruin. All the kingdom loved their King, all except Kerim.

“There it is on the horizon,” one of the company called, seeing the city on the skyline.

“We shall reach Kerim by the 5th bell.” Isis affirmed, leaning back in his saddle to enjoy the slow ride onward. He glanced over at his traveling companion, the King, ever swaying, never wavering. This was a man he could follow.

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Norah ran for all she was worth, like the very gates of hell were racing after her, ready to swallow her up at any moment. She ran through the marshes, her footfalls splashing water and muck. Moss hung low from tree branches, mushroom reached up from the ground; each trying to touch the other. The thick ending foliage made it difficult to see and more so to traverse. She ran, her heart in her throat, lungs burning from the inside out. She couldn’t breathe. Glancing back, the ferocious face of the beast urged her onward. The thing was hideous, its hide translucent, the innards of it glowed like a raging fire ready to consume all living flesh. Poison dripped from the yellowed tusks of the animal, its rigged back was rippled with spikes, broken and batter by the tormented victims it had mangled.

Norah had scarcely left Corvath’s hut, still mocking the thought of the creature, when it suddenly appeared, as if summoned by her thought. The wretched thing pursued her through the marsh. Bounding after the young girl as she threw herself another step forward. Her eyes began to glow as she overheated. Strain began draining the life-force from her. Adrenaline could sustain her no more. In moments, she would stumble in the shallow swamp and Norah would fall prey to the creature. The next victim of a foul marshland creature. A single tear fell from her swollen and bloodshot eyes as fear of death crept up on her.

I can’t do it. She cried. 13 years old was too young to die. Too young to cope with the thought of death. Gasping for breath she fell into the bog. The beast was upon her. Norah raised her hand to fend off the beast, as if any effort on her part could prevent her impending demise. The fell drool from its mouth dripped on her face. The creature raised its head and howled in victory, preparing for its final blow. This was it. As the beast lowered its head, jaws wide to devour Norah’s head. She screamed, not in fear but in rage. The head of the animal met her hands and a virtue flowed through her body into the menace. Like some manner of magic; some power she did not know she possessed, it flowed through her and into the spawn of evil. Whatever goodness was in this little girl, this thief and liar, it burned the monster.

The beast howled in pain and fury. It tried again and again to smash its head through the strange power protecting her. Yet, every time her hand touched the evil beast, it reviled in pain. Resigning its prey, the beast fled into the marsh to find easier lunch. It was over. Norah sighed and the last of her strength left her. Her hands splashed in the murky water as they fell limp by her sides.
-------------------to be continued--------->

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