₦airaland Forum

Emanuel1997:
sorry for saying this late... you are an exceptional writer, though you prolonged it for like two years cos i am one of your first readers but it was worth the wait. and thank you for completing it...

Thanks bro. Your comment means so much to me.

Good Morning guys!

It's a few days to the elections. Hope you are gearing up for the future?

Still made of more!

Biodun1929:
Just send me a message on this number- 09059434872

Alright. I just sent you a message.

Biodun1929:
I burned out at book 5.

Oops...sorry to hear that. There's something I want to discuss with you about Amazon Publishing. I sent you a mail request via nairaland. Or could you give me your mail? Anyways, mine's... Please quote me when you have seen this so I edit this and remove my mail.

He sat at the bank of the river allowing his legs to fall freely into the flowing stream. This morning, all was quiet and still. The wind even had learned of the peace and solitude in slow and gentle motion, the swishing the leaves from side to side in reckless abandon like a child rocked in the trustworthy hands of a caring mother. Vince wished she was here.

A light was brewing from the bottom of the river. At first, it seemed a false image, a mirage probably due to the effect of the rising sun but a closer look proved otherwise. He stared, gazing deeply and noticing its ascent. Its radiance increased as it surfaced till it bubbled up, blinding his eyes.

He opened his eyes to find himself lying on a bed, sweating.
The glow of slowly burning lamp illuminated the room hung on a wall which looked long overdue for painting. A soft whistling caught Vince's attention, and sitting up; he saw the pot brewing at the fireside as it ejected steam which towered towards the ceiling, one he hadn't seen before.

What is this place?

Sharp pain at his back aroused his senses, and he remembered, with trembling, the arrow he had seen hanging from his back. He noticed he was wrapped in strange clothes as he looked downwards. Worse still, a dirty looking cloth was serving as his bandage. He examined it. The pain wasn't as much as it should be. The herb applied to his wound was working.

But who was his savior? How had he been rescued?

“I see you're awake... “
He looked up to see descending from a staircase, a fair lady taking gentle steps as she approached him. Her black gown had some stains in it only visible though as she bent over him feeling his temperature. Her touch was cold; a sharp contrast to his body which felt like it was warming in an oven.

“Your temperature is still not perfect, but I think you're getting better. “

“Who are y…”
“Shss…you are not quite ready to speak. There's no need rushing it. You'll have all the time to ask questions.” She pushed his head down slowly till it rested on the makeshift pillow.

He watched her take down the pot from the fire and poured its content into a cup. It was greenish, no doubt some herbal concoction. He wondered if he was going to be asked to drink that, whatever it was.
Someone pushed open the door and rays of the sun gushed in. Vince had no idea it was the day.

“Has he awoken?”

It was the voice of a boy, a young one. By his look, he could pass for ten. He had curled hair, and he dropped what looked like a map on the table.

“He woke up, but he's back to sleep.“

The light he had seen in the boy’s eyes when he heard he was awake was short-lived but loveable. He wondered why he wanted him awake.

“How did the class go? “

“Horrible mum. I could barely channel my essence to locate Minnok.“

He pulled off his shoes and drew the socks off his legs, dumping them on the table.

“The teachers are wack!“

“O common, don't say that. I was once a student there. Nivert raises the best cultivators in No-land.“

NO-LAND? What sort of a name was that?

Closing his eyes, he imagined a school where students learnt to grow crops.

A school for farmers? Who does that?

Back at Pongash, farmers were self-taught, often learning from their parents as they kept on visiting the farms. He had never for once imagined there’d be a school for that. What were they going to teach?
The boy had said something about channeling. Channeling his essence?

He wondered what that meant. What a strange place!

He wished he had the audience of Stewart, the all-knowing palace tutor. He would no doubt have provided honest answers to this rubbish he was hearing.

What had even been Stewart’s faith? Had he gone with his wealth of knowledge?

He remembered how he had come up with an excellent explanation about the pendant that hung around his neck. He had told him that it was a symbol of a separate life attached to his own. That another of his self roamed some other world and that he had in that other self a watchful eye. That was the only occasion he had doubted him. On every other time, Stewart provided what sounded like accurate answers.

Except for the one that involved the pendant

One thing was clear though, he had, again and again, been warned never to remove it from his neck.
He wondered what the pendant signified that had caused so much trouble. He reached for it, and to his greatest surprise and fear, it was missing.

Biodun1929:
Today is the 4th day and my 3rd book just got published successfully.

Guess how many words I have written for the 4th book? Zero. lol! It ain't easy o. I have a brain fog right now. Let me watch one movie maybe it will help with my creative juices.

Please, I need to talk to you. I want to know how how journey went for you.

meobizy:
OP don kpeme?

LOL. I'm actually interested in seeing how things went for him.

Chapter 2


Salen proved to be a great fighter despite the bulge he carried like a pregnant woman. The dagger went slashing as he swung. There was pure adrenaline in the air.

The guards too were as tough as they looked, matching strike for strike and blow for blow. Their curved blades were causing the duo of Salen and Bolwart real problems.

Vince, not used to seeing much blood was shaking. He could see that no one was even paying attention to him. This might be his chance.

He looked around and was glad that no one even cared to steal a glance at his direction. He had the feeling that there was bad blood between these sets of men, not just because the lady had given the order.

Where was the lady by the way?

One of the guards came tumbling down on him, and as his hands were still bound, he couldn't parry his wounded body away. He fell against him, pushing him to the floor and they both landed on the hard-baked floor. He seemed to have taken the best of it as the guard was up in split seconds and was back attacking if only with more intensity and ferocity.

Vince crouched behind one of the cushions, his back resting against the back. He closed his eyes wondering how he got into such predicament.

“Come this way, quickly!”

He opened his eyes to see a lady, not much older than himself, a brunette with her eyes the color of Sapphire. With even the dark creases on her eyes, she looked beautiful, almost as beautiful as his sister had been

“Who are you?“

“How about we keep the questions for later and get you out of here! “

Vince nodded and taking that as an affirmation, the lady held his hand and led him out bending low so as not to be seen.

“You must do as I say to make it out of here alive,“ she said once they were out. He could see she was struggling to hide the fear in her eyes. He wondered who she was and why she had come to his rescue barely knowing him.

“Vince, immediately we walk past that door, you must run as fast as your legs can carry. Go down the corridor, all the way to the undergraduate channel. When you exit, you'll see a horse waiting for you, propped up against an olive tree. “

Vince didn't know how he was going to cope with such instructions, and worse even, he had no training riding horses.

“But I… “

“There's no time.” She dipped her trembling hand into her blouse and produced what looked like a crystal ball. This should guide… “

Just then, a hooded man came into sight. He had two swords tucked at his sides. He unhooked them and twisted them as he approached them.
“Take this and go now. “ She handed the crystal ball to him and turned to face their assailant.
He hesitated, not sure why he needed it.

“I don't...“
“Go now…run!”

As though propelled by her bellowed order, he ran for the door. Just before he got out, he heard her shout ‘chaksak!’ and listened to what sounded like thunder follow. He couldn't go back to see what it was as he sped into the darkness.

He ran not knowing where he went allowing his intuition to guide him. He wished he could just awake from this bad dream.

The crystal ball suddenly lit up with a bluish flame, and he stopped in his track. One more step and he would have fallen into a bottomless pit, chasm, whatever it was.

He bent low to catch his breath, his palpitations already threatening to burst his chest
.
I could have died there

He wondered how he was going to cross over without falling, no bridge visible. Or so he thought.

He looked at the far right and saw what seemed like a step that led downwards. Some pieces of rock were breaking off the walls and falling into the pit and taking like forever to get to the bottom. Cold shivers ran full length from his head to toe. He imagined seeing the guards picking his bones and trying to fix them together.

Why didn't I die with the others? Why wait till now?

Well, there was only one way to find out. All through his fourteen years, he had often heard people say his diehard determination will be the end of him, but it seemed to have been his saving grace. He had, against his parent's better, or worse judgment, not drinking from the expensive wine sent to them from the king of Oreon. Had they had their strength, they would have been able to escape, as he had, from the invasion.

He ran towards the step, the bluish luminance lighting his path. He steadily but carefully climbed down the step not stopping even when as it began to fall apart, not able to support his weight. He managed to make it down to the level floor just as some guards came into view.

They stopped when they saw that the steps had collapsed. Vince didn't wait to see what they would do next as he scrambled away towards the exit. He saw the horse tied to the tree and it seemed unaware of the danger, eating away at the luscious, green grasses that had been unfortunate to be growing where it had been tied.

Quickly untying it, he climbed up without even checking the saddle. He had hardly climbed up the horse when it cantered off as though enchanted. He held the reins feeling weaker the more distance they covered. A sharp pain from his back kept rising. Looking back, he saw a masked man letting down a bow. Just before he blacked out, he saw the head of the arrow protruding from the small of his back.

ashatoda:
loving this but please try and be consistent I lost interest in the call of the wind but since you claim it's concluded I will go and read it again. meanwhile thanks for this

I'm sorry you lost interest. I'll try to be more consistent with this than I was with COTW.

# MadeofMore

Chapter 1

Bright flowers of every species he liked were swinging around him, sprouting fresh and lovely blooms as they danced to the rhythm of the moving cart. This was the life he'd dreamt of; affluence, Clean scented air and slaves at his beck and call.
A sudden jolt of the cart put a stop to his heaven-like visions and opening his eyes; Vince found out that he was still in the cage with his head throbbing like it had been clobbered with a hammer the size of Bolwart’s hand.
They came to a halt, and he heard mumblings which were almost overshadowed by cries and shouts from different directions.

Where were they taking him to?

He pushed away from the cotton material used in sealing the cage from prying eyes. He had trouble doing so not able to use his hands instead of having to use his face. He forced his eyes shut, the ray of light blinding his eyes that had seen nothing but darkness since he awoke. From the little he saw, it seemed they were in a market.

“What do you have there?“

The voice was a cracked baritone.

"Some ‘none -of-your business stuff. Get out of our way!“

A brief silence followed and then the movement continued. Vince wondered what they could have done to have dismissed the confrontation so quickly, efficiently. He would have screamed his lungs out if not for the bit that had been expertly fixed ensuring that no noise escaped his mouth. That Salen was a natural-born, talented larcenist.

The movement was smooth from there, no stops, bumps or throbbing until they came to what looked like a slope. They stopped.

Were they planning on throwing him in a river?
He dismissed the thought as soon as it came. They surely won't have gone through all that trouble to dump him in God knows where. He felt the cage being let down. Maybe he was wrong. He waited, his heart suddenly palpitating. Someone tore back the covering of his prison, pulled back the latch and toppled it so that he fell out in a heap.

He had to lower his gaze, the light still hurting his eyes. A kick on his buttocks jeered him to reality.

“Get the Bleep up you filthy animal!“

He struggled with the instructions. It wasn't exactly comfortable getting up when you had your hands bound to your back.
Finally, he was up on his feet. The wind kept peeling at his body and the pendant on his chest, cold kept sending chills down his spine as they moved into a cavern.

He wondered what they could have done with his shirt. That one had been his most expensive yet.

“How much do you think he'll bring? He's not exactly fat or muscular you know!“ the one he'd come to know was Bolwart asked.

Vince gave him a hard glance that earned him a smirk in return.

“You'll be my last boy. When I'm done selling you, I'll buy a house in the hillside and drink myself to death. If the bargain goes well, I might as well get myself a bitch about the size of you. I like them young and fresh. Right, Salen?”

The pot-bellied guy who had his ponytail running to his shoulders barely nodded, his eyes never leaving the road. Vince was left wondering if he enjoyed what he did. Stealing people, kids like Vince to sell them off wasn't exactly a dream job.

They finally came to a big hall where they met some big muscled guys, as shirtless as he was, sporting big muscles, the kind that would make Bolwart jealous. Throughout this pitiable journey, he had often pontificated about how big and powerful he was. Perhaps, he might have bullied the others into joining his line of work. He was worried though that the third and only one among them who seemed to have a functional conscience still was no longer with them. He had been so kind as to have allowed him some sip from his waterskin.
Bolwart whispered some stuff into one of the guy's ears, and then he left after making eye contact with his other two colleagues.

Vince took the liberty of looking around. The place was quaint, bourgeois even. Several pieces of furniture adorned with mild colored embroidery covered them. On the unpainted walls were several paintings, each unique in their way.

The one with the flaming sword though. Something about it calls out to me.

He was drawn in by his dark eyes and black pupils. Looking closer, he saw that he had on his bare chest, the same pendant with him. He gawped at it not noticing when Bolwart came close. He turned to him sharply.

“Where did you get that pendant?“

Shakingly, seeing the fire in Bolwart’s eyes he answered.
“I've had it on before I could even walk!“

“Damn! Salen, grab the boy. We're getting out of here immediately!“

Grabbing Vince, they skippered off only to be stopped by the melodious voice of a lady.
“Going so soon. Where are your manners, Bol!“

She was adorned in a wine-colored, floor-sweeping gown with a tint of silver lining the collar. She was resplendent, and from the way she carried herself, sashaying towards them, she was aware of it. She sat on the sofa. She beckoned on him to do the same, but he declined.
“I'm sorry we ain't doing business today.“
“Why?”
“Change of plans! “
“Too bad then,” she said shaking her head as she got up. She pointed at her hefty-looking guards.

“Kill them both and bring me the boy. He's the one we've been seeking!“

BlessedNiel:
Just finished reading!!!
So emotional at the end!
It's always good to thoroughly observe before reaching conclusion
Else there will always be regret
I hope Dathan learns from that and stop jumping to hasty conclusion.
I hope it ends well between George and Cordelia.

Well done Pabon
I wish the story could go on till the last trump
I'm glad to know you that part 2 is on fire getting cook. I hope it'll be spicier.
More inspiration to you

Thanks BlessedNiel. I'm grateful for your positive words. When I do decide to publish it, I will owe you a copy.

Cc


MAcSEEKER
BlessedNiel
Taniaa
Ojusco
Pheezie
Wadewaltz
Fazemood
Reflex01
Immacul6

Ayodipths:
Folowing You Bro

Thanks. Welcome on board.

LightQueen:
Present already

Waiting...

Thanks, for being the first. I hope you like the update.

Copyright, 2019

By Pabon Smiles

All rights reserved (seriously speaking!!!)

---

PROLOGUE

He jumped over the decaying log of wood, another unfortunate victim of their savagery. He increased his stride as he tried to cover the distance between himself and the swordsman. It was a good thing he was light-footed.

Pushing back a cluster of leaves, he ran deeper still into the forest. The leaves fizzled, and this muffled his movement. He had never been this glad about nature. Having always loved flowers and being a self-taught nature conservator, he always had been passionate in his desire to see life preserved.

The forest cover densely packed, allowed just glimmers of light to infiltrate the forest floor even as the orange glow from the setting sun dimmed. Good thing he wasn't a stranger to the forest.
He noticed that the stumping of the swordsman’s boot was no longer audible and wondered if he had given up chasing him. He ran still until he came to a clearing where he was sure no one would follow him.
He stopped, breathing in the moist air gradually as he tried to catch his breath.
Slopping down, he allowed the tears to flow freely.

Why was this world so cruel and heartless?

Some hours ago, he had been in the company of those who mattered the world to him and the next they were gone.
Pictures of his father's dying body washed back into his memory, and another stream of hot tears came pouring down. He had tried to ensure that the life of his beloved boy was untouched but had died in the process. If only he had listened.

He remembered a song his beloved mother used to sing to him, the tune all the years sticking to his memory like a bad dream. He recalled the last line.

Just a little longer my dear child
There'd be no worries or fear
Your wishes and dreams light will find
Sleep for tomorrow draws near
A little at a time, a little for the night


She had lied to him. If only he could tell her so. She would put her hand on his shoulder and say ‘my dear boy, mother never lies.’
Was she telling the truth then when she had said they'd always be there for him?

He knew without a doubt that she was dead, together with Thelma, his beloved sister, the wild version of himself. The castle had been torched with no one allowed to escape, but he had warned them.

He pulled his knees into his chest, burying his face as he began sobbing again, this time with no care that he might be heard. All hope of life had been seized from him. He had nothing to care about, nothing to live for.
The trees seemed to have quieted for him, showing him their sympathy. A friend bereaved. Even the chirping of the birds had ceased, and the nocturnal insects no longer sang their high-pitched lullaby to their sleeping neighbors. All was quiet.

Unusual

He got up, cleaning his eyes and looking around. His eyes found it challenging to adjust to the emerging darkness. His legs had begun to ache, punishing him for overuse. He carried them still, trudging slowly into the part of the forest unknown to him.
The smell of ash and dead matter blew past his nose. He traipsed, allowed his instinct to direct him.
He lost track of time as he wandered further into the dense and darker part of the night.

Then, he saw a faint glimmer of light some meters away. He approached with caution not wanting to give himself away for all he knew they could be Oreon’s soldiers. He tiptoed closer and ducked behind a tree to watch three men tearing at pieces of meat they had cut from the larger one hanging over the fire they had set up.

Their clothing bore no semblance to armors, let alone Oreon’s. The tall, wild-looking one with heavy beards spoke, and the others went reeling with laughter. They seemed to be ordinary men, night travelers perhaps. It wasn't strange to have people moving at night as the forest of Pongash was no home to wild creatures. They have long been driven away or worse killed during hunting expeditions.

There appeared what looked like a sack of rounded stuff near the shortest one among them who preferred to listen while the other guys talked. He kept looking around occasionally.

No worries boy. The danger is far past

Vince turned to go, thinking it wiser not to reveal himself to them. For one, though they weren't soldiers, they could be anything else if the daggers they had holstered to their waist were anything to go.

He only saw a flash of it as it came towards his head. In split seconds, the world faded from his view.

Thanks. I just downloaded one of the books. JHC used to be one of my favorite authors as a teenager.

Aceed:
oga pabon in the closing remarks of the chapter preceding the epilogue, shouldn't it be:
"...two hearts slowed in their beating not breathing"?

That's true. Thanks for the correction. I'll implement immediately.

This is the new story I'll be working on. I just finished the Call of the Wind. I had two options. One was to go for a Mystery/Crime work and the other fantasy. I choose fantasy because that's my best genre.

I'm hoping I can get to complete this one way faster than I did the last.

MODIFIED: NOW AVAILABLE FOR DOWNLOAD ON OKADABOOKS. PLEASE RATE AND COMMENT THERE!!!
https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQ2MwL29Ln9NUbyZ4mjZ38xtMxaMYXSwomEVSVRUBevFb/MONL%20ONE%20MANUSCRIPT%20-%20Paul%20Smiles.jpg

I'm feeling very emotional right now. Aside from the events of the book, I've been working on this book since 2013. That's seven years (well, six years plus actually)!

Thanks to everyone for being there. I'll do a compilation of every single person who has made a comment whether good or bad. I want to thank you all.

I'll start another book tomorrow ( Yeah, I'm not going to stop writing just yet).

I'll drop everything about Call of the Wind for now (yes, it's a triology. Part 2 will commence towards the end of the year.)


Anticipate a new work from me.

I still am....

# MadeofMore!!!

EPILOGUE

Two weeks had passed since the battle ended. Harris couldn’t stop crying. Nora had been everything to him. He wouldn’t be consoled. It had taken a great deal of persuasion and some magic before he let Nora’s corpse out of his sight. His anger fits usually was disastrous as he kept shooting tendrils and trying to strangle anyone who came close, sometimes beyond his control. He had spent more time out in the woods than with people. He was learning to control his woodiness. George had to spend most of the time with him to lighten the burden. They barely talked and most times, he just watched as Harris perused through books. He left one morning with a note that he’d gone a quest to discover himself.
Dathan had explained everything to them. It turned out that Dathan’s life force had drained to the point where he couldn’t live again. They’d been together, he and Nora, in the tomb and shared the visions of the events as they broke out in the realm. The battle had needed Dathan’s intervention as he only had the link with the staff that would end the war. In addition to that, Theodore had given him the rare gift of light with which he could prevail before the light came. Armed with the light and the staff, he would save the realm, but without his life force, there was little he could do.

Nora had volunteered to give him hers, but he had turned it down. Dathan never wanted to put her in harm’s way. As the battle had progressed and seen that the realm was going to be broken down and the prophecy fulfilled, Dathan had accepted to use the life force she offered but only to the extent that he needed to win the battle. He had seen that the one he’d love would die from the visions he had, but he hadn’t known it would happen like that. Yes, Nora was the one he’d come to love. He had spent a long time loathing and causing her harm. But in the few moments he spent with her, he’d grown to like her. He’d gotten to see beyond the pictures he had of her as the rumors had painted of her and her mother. He’d grown to know that she was the opposite. He regretted that he hadn’t told her his feelings before she left. He’d thought there would be enough time after the battle to have that talk, but he had been wrong. He was glad however that they had settled their differences and made sure there were no more ill-feelings while they were at the tomb.

George was doing all he could to put the guilt of Nora’s death out of his mind. He still felt he could have done something. He spent most of his evenings visiting Nora’s graveside and wouldn’t leave until it was dark or Cordelia came to take him home. He’d been presented with the Elixir of life by the watchers of the realm. It was the elixir he would use to save his people when he finally got back to Pathandra. That was supposed to be good news, but he wished it hadn’t come at the cost of Nora’s life. If there were a way to resurrect her with the Elixir, he would do it. But it didn’t immortalize the already dead.

Cordelia and himself were getting closer, and the events and mood around the realm only helped to bring them closer. A lot of people had been killed with the battle, but the majority was safe. Like Nora’s, individual monuments were being erected for the fallen Thorank sons. Their gallantry would be told and taught in schools, an indelible mark in history.

The realm wasn’t as bright as it had been in the past, but things would get back to shape. Time heals everything after all. The primary concern for George was going back to Panthadra. The dreams he’d been having alone pointed to hindrances on the way. Indeed, he knew he couldn’t just walk back to free his parents, his people. The watchers had told him something when they presented the elixir to him. They were telepathic and had told him one sentence that had he still couldn’t make out.

“To be immortal is to wage war with the dead”

The sentence was cloaked in uncertainty and confusion, and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t decipher the meaning. The watchers didn’t speak to anyone unless they needed to and so far, they hadn’t seen a reason to call for George. The only thing he was sure of was that freeing his people would come with a consequence, one he’d decided he would face. Facing evil no longer unsettled him. He was the Thorank king after all.

Coming back for an edit. Then the last update. Good morning!

Cc


MAcSEEKER
BlessedNiel
Taniaa
Ojusco
Pheezie
Wadewaltz
Fazemood
Reflex01
Immacul6

It was easy to believe that they could be creatures as ugly and terrible as the one they had faced. He could find convincing crocodiles with wings, slug-like creatures with poisonous bodies. Yet it was difficult to believe that Nora could be resigned to a position where she would be dying and unable to help herself. All the while that George has known Nora, he had only ever thought of her as vibrant and robust. She was the boss lady. She had shown no signs of cowardice and only on rare occasion had she appeared afraid. Even then, she was justified as they had all been afraid, even Mr. Logan. The vibes of the pending destruction that was to happen to the realm got to everybody.

How could this happen to Nora? What would she have thought about him?
He’d promised her that he was acting in good faith when he had suggested that she'd be the one to stay behind in the cave. He had done so not knowing what was to befall her. Even then, she hadn’t accepted and didn’t know she’d be whisked away. He wished he could change things right then. He would do anything to ensure she was safe. She would not be involved in the battle with them. She’d be somewhere where they could go to be with her after all of this was done. He couldn't help seeing her in the state she was.

All the while Dathan hadn't spoken a word. It won't be wicked of him now to think that Dathan had gone dumb from his inactivity and his time of relapse in the Thorank world. For all he knew, Dathan might have given his ability to speak in exchange for his, well, miserable life. Sometimes, that was how he saw Dathan; a guy desperate to carry on with his existence no matter the odds.
Dathan looked different. Even though the staff wasn't there for him, there appeared to be a new lease of life with which he worked and moved. He was showing this again as he turned to face the rest of the realm, his back to them as though he was expecting something only visible to his eyes.
George turned to look at Cordelia who had been squatting, like himself, looking at Nora and hoping that she would get up any moment. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a concerned look. George knew she was thinking the same thing he was thinking. Perhaps, Dathan had lost his mind. That was the kind of thing that could happen when you spend a lengthy period in the Thorank state. He remembered the few times he entered the Thorank state. It never felt normal. For Dathan, staying that long in the Thorank world must have jumbled up his mind such that he wouldn't be able to differentiate the physical world from the world that was defined by complete emptiness and a fleet of light that cannot be explained.

Something quaked from under his feet. George turned to look at the others to see if they were feeling the same thing. He first thought it was coming from Nora’s body as she resuscitated. She wasn’t getting up though. The vibration was getting thicker and thicker as though an earthquake was about to happen.
Cordelia stood up and held onto him for support. Mr. Logan too quickly held on to Cordelia not wanting anything to happen to her. Seeing the way Nora was laying helplessly on the ground, Mr. Logan wouldn't want the same thing to happen to his daughter. His wife was safe where she was. She had been summoned ahead of the battle to take charge and supervise those who would be attending to the sick and injured fighters.
They all held hands together not knowing what to do or what to expect. Dathan's body language remained indifferent. Perhaps, this was what he had been expecting.
A fierce wind broke out, becoming more violent as each second passed. Danger was coming. George could feel it. He didn’t know if he’d see anything worse than he’d seen today. Slugs that desiccated people on contact or beak-mouthed dogs, all of his wildest imaginations had played out. He knew however that a new evil was coming and it was coming fast.
Yes, evil was the feeling. It brought with it pictures of horror and death. He could see it, hear it and smell it. Damn, he could even feel it. His mind feasted, as he would with wine and savory meat, what it would feel like to die and leave the wicked world behind. He saw within split seconds the smiling image of death beckoning on him to come. With eyes blue and warm, a gaze beautiful and robust, it was enticing. Death was the best thing that could happen right now.
He opened himself up, loosening his guard for it to take charge. Death wasn't an enemy. He'd been deceived. Death was a friend. It was the friend.

All around, bodies started dropping to the floor, and even George allowed himself to be eased to the earth. Bodies fell with a thud. No cry of pain or terror followed. Only one stood.
George didn't want it to stop. The feeling of sorrowful satisfaction shouldn't end. However, something tugged at his mind. He tried to push it away, but it wouldn't leave. It kept hanging around, nibbling at the collar of the dress that was his consciousness. He managed to shrug it off sometimes, but it always came back.

Why couldn't he be allowed to die in peace?

He opened his eyes to look for one last time at the world he’d been leaving behind. The smell of ash and putrid flesh assaulted his nose. He choked from effect. He was going to cough out phlegm when he heard the sound.
Looking up, he saw Dathan’s body moving with the speed of a ghost. Yes, only a ghost could move that fast. He was beating something, blow upon blow. Then, his head sloped backward surprisingly. He might have been clobbered with an invisible club. He gave a cry as the attack continued. George couldn’t see what the assailant was.
Damn! Was it invisible?
The deathly feeling had washed off him, and now, the only priority was to get Dathan some help.

Where would he find help? What is the antidote for the evil you cannot see?

The wind was as boisterous as it had ever been that night. Dathan was already losing it as he was being propped, slammed and clobbered in the scariest ways he had ever seen. It was like evil brought its deadliest tool from its arsenal. The wind like he’d heard was the worst of all foes.

But was the wind an enemy?

George began to recall reading from the Secrets of Magic that the wind carried a neutral force. It could be a friend or a foe. It had implied that anyone could use the wind to aid his course. It was like water, the element of life. It had been called the element of choice. All it required was the summoning song, the call of the wind.
The words came to him then in a whisper. He didn’t bother looking around for its source. He knew he would see no one save for the dying folks all around that like Dathan needed saving. If anything, he needed to act fast before it became too late. Hurriedly, he began the slow commanding lines.

Let the voice of the fallen be heard
A feast of light be held for the dead
The dancers have left their footsteps behind
The drums pay heed to the signal sound
The wind arrives and saves all
The wind hears my call

As he sung, a wind, more commanding than the raging terror beating down on Dathan began to brew, and it carried everything in its wake. The bodies of the fallen, both of the Thoranks and the fallen evil were swept away. George stood where he sang, unable to get the song from his mouth. He sang on like singing was the only thing. The song was no longer words but pictures. He sang what he saw. When a glowing object came bursting from the woods, with a whoosh of wind trailing behind heading towards them, he didn’t cower in fear. He sang its welcome and when Dathan’s outstretched hand enveloped it. He knew what Dathan would do for it was his command then that everything yielded.

Dathan didn’t think twice or stop to consider. He knew the sacrifice had to be paid. George knew this too, though he only just discovered. He wished he could change that part of the song. He’d do anything to have it another way, another alternative. There was no other way. He sang on as the tears cascaded down his eyes. Dathan shouted, a mixture of anger, sadness, and pain, as he heaved it into the air. He plunged the staff into the earth, and a burst of white light exploded the realm. It ripped through the core of the land and towered into the heavens. The darkness was blown away into nothingness. A weight, like a thick blanket, lifted from the realm. It was over at last. The song stopped, and Dathan fell to the floor. The staff still glowed in his hand but was fading gradually. Two hearts slowed down in their beating. One stopped finally.

---

EDITED

God help me. I just did something to one of my characters that I've been avoiding. I feel guilty!

Updating in a bit!

Just edited the last update. I had a tiring day. I will try to begin the last update this night.

Thanks BlessedNiel

Guys, it's just the last update remaining. However, I feel like I can add two more updates with new directions I'm getting. Well, I do want to get this story ended.

What do you think?

George shut his eyes and said some prayers. He had no idea who was going to hear his prayers. All he knew was that they needed some serious help, one greater than his strength and his magic. His power was fading with every second as the black daemon kept poking at the firm. It was all he could do not to break down. The sheer force of the tapping alone was making him go mad already. Beside him, Cordelia leaned unto his arm with teary eyes. She, like him, knew nothing could save them if the firm gave way.
Beads of sweat lined his forehead. His muscles tensed from the strain of trying to hold the firm in place. He was losing his grip second after second and panic were spreading as everyone behind knew his grip was loosening.
I have to do something. However, there’s only so much you can do with both hands occupied. He could barely even bring himself to think. All his focus was on his hands.
“Brace yourself guys,” he said turning to Harris on his left and Mr. Logan to his right. Even as he turned to look at them, he could see that they too were scared. They had come to terms that they would have to fight their way through.
“Any moment now,” he whispered under the pain as he felt his last bit of restraint give way.

The firm finally gave way and an ear-splitting scream rent the air. George closed his eyes to take in the impact. He was too weak to do anything. Harris was already shooting tendrils as some of the sons shot fire at them. Harris looked every bit the hero George had never thought he’d attain. He was swinging around an extended tendril from his hand lit with fire. It kept the large lump of the black daemon at bay, momentarily. One positive, perhaps the only strand of hope left, was the fact that in coming together, they were confident that there’d be no surprise attack. All they needed to do was focus on the lump of them. Destroy them, and they would momentarily be free.
The black daemon suddenly shot through the fire and sprang towards them, the first one touching Mr. Logan. It met his shoes which the old man kicked off all too quickly.

Thank goodness George murmured to himself. He didn't know what he’d do if something happened to Mr. Logan.

Something approached that George hadn't seen coming. The realm, all this while wrapped in total darkness, shone with an unearthly blaze suddenly. It wasn't just any light. George's magic had produced a degree of brightness too. The enflammare spell had been no match for the darkness that had blanketed the realm. Not with this light.

It was the most radiant George had ever seen in his life. It was the kind that would rival that of the sun, the type that would usually lead to permanent blindness. They all could see through it. The light kept edging forward. Not it actually, but it's the source. As it moved, there was a confident carriage in its step. It didn't look like someone was carrying it. Instead, it looked like it was carrying something.

George wondered what this new mystery was. How would he prepare to defend himself and the others of course, from something they didn't know?

He braced himself for the worse. Maybe today's the day it ends.

As it approached, the black daemons began to melt away. They eroded and disappeared like the light was many degrees hotter than it looked.
No, it can't be. If it were that hot, we'd be feeling it already.

What then is it?

Sensing what was happening to their kind, the rest of the black daemon began to work together. Edges dissolved into edges until the lump became even thicker. They were going to string something to counter the light, their last bit of effort to string an attack. The light, whatever it was didn't feel perturbed. George wondered if it even had a direction. It just kept walking towards them like an unseen force was controlling it. It needed to see what was brewing in front of them.

The lump of the black daemon had grown in size. It was now as big as an enormous boulder and was getting bigger still. George wished the thing bearing the light would stop right then.

The lump of the evil creatures suddenly shot into the sky and disappeared. Silence spread all over the realm at once. It was the kind of silence that left a man confused.

The sons of Thorank froze where they stood, not knowing whether to be happy or to be scared. It was in that moment that the light got to where George stood flanked by Harris, Cordelia, and Mr. Logan. It dropped a package on the floor in front of George. It was a body. The light dissipated then and with it, the startling revelation of Dathan with a limp Nora at his feet.

Good pm. You would have just browsed through the pages. You made me go through that stress for you.


Here's the link

https://www.nairaland.com/4622033/ill-design-book-cover-300

Two more updates guys. One this night and another tomorrow, hopefully.

Thanks for following steadily. At last, it's almost over.

Cc

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