₦airaland Forum

You are a terrific writer, Keziah. You seriously are.

Essyprity:
Vantee let me quickly say that I like ur story but then I find it unable to relate with certain action scenes,e,g what happened when xesandra came to help in d sect temple.

Thanks ma'am. I think that particular scene came off like that because of Xesandra's mastery of archery. She was shooting multiple arrows at a time and the sect members didn't get half a chance. Anyways, I'll strive to make the upcoming action scenes more relatable with. Thanks again.

RICKYMARIO:
Thank God ypu are back....Great job

Thanks for sticking around Sir. . .

stuff46:
Congratulations Sire

Thanks Sir

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A Personal milestone, Perfidy has reached a hundred Ms word pages. . .

A few hours after the council of noblemen had unanimously agreed to install Sir Millicent as the official regent of the Nersean Empire, the Knight and his cohorts gathered in the crypt of Lady Suzannah’s manor to discuss the final steps in their revised conquest plans. They sat at a round table with various huge dishes of delicacies and big jars of wine in their fore.

Sir Millicent opened the floor with his signature mellifluous voice, “Today, we are gathered to celebrate my installation as the regent of this grand empire, the process of which will be completed by tomorrow. This not exactly where we want to be, but we can at least celebrate the fact that we have gotten close enough in so little time. So let us drink and be merry while we decide on what our next course of action will be.”

“Admittedly, we have very little more to do to get the absolute power that we seek in our hands,” Lady Suzannah said. “But there is still something that bothers me about this whole thing.”

“What’s that? Let me guess, you’re thinking the Prince will return and ruin everything we’re doing?” Sir Millicent postulated. “The truth is he won’t. He just can’t. He will be taking on that crazy beast in the rebel camp tonight. What’s his name, Finn?”

“Frasser,” Finn answered. “He was a street urchin before we signed as a prizefighter ten years ago. It might be of interest to you that he has not lost any of the hundreds of fights he had undertaken since then.”

“Impressive record,” Lady Suzannah replied casually. “But I’m not as concerned about the Prince as Marcus. Like I said the other day, he remains the biggest threat to the success of our plans.”

“Excuse my forgetfulness but who is Marcus?” Lord Bradeigh asked through a mouthful of fried trout.

“He’s the same person as Sir Maxime at the last tournament. He is a rare breed of warrior who possesses alarming military finesse and mind-blowing magical powers. We call people like him gods’ favoured.”

“Ah! I remember the weasel that couldn’t even show up for his joust with Sir Millicent,” Lord Bradeigh said derisively, giving his balding dome a little scratch. “But I still don’t understand why you consider him a potential problem.”

“Don’t you get it? He is destined to be invincible. No man will ever defeat him. If by any chance, he joins forces with the opposite side, then that’s big trouble for us. .”

“What makes you think he will join forces with our enemies? So far, he has seemed pretty uninterested in the affairs of the state. ”

“I’m sure you won’t say that again when you see some things for yourself,” Lady Suzannah said exasperatedly as she turned to the northern wall of the room and muttered a spell. ”Mu Aestiya!”

There were three quick flashes of light then a moving picture of five persons riding towards the Rebel camp instantly became visible on the wall.

“That’s him sharing the black mare with the dark haired girl.” The Sorceress said. “They are going to attempt to free the Prince from the Cevout camp.”

Sir Millicent dropped the goblet of wine in his hand and walked to the part of the wall where the image was projected. “We have come too close to our objectives than to just sit back and let one little boy and his friends ruin it all for us. We are going to leave him to attempt to break the Prince out of Cevout. If he fails, well. If he succeeds and tries to come with the Prince to reclaim the throne as I think he will, better. We will have the Phantoms waiting for them.”

“Oh! I never thought of that,” Lady Suzannah cried. “There is no way he would be able to defeat Phantoms.”

“Yeah,” Sir Millicent said as he returned to his seat and lifted his goblet of northern wine. “A toast to continued success in our endeavours.”

“Cheers,” The others chorused.

“Now, how about we revisit the issue of execution of special criminals that Lord Bradeigh brought up the other day?”

* * *

The Prince, accompanied by three rebel guards, descended the flight of stairs that led to Melissa’s new cell with slow, thoughtful steps. He sighed as he remembered how much begging he had done before Dunstan granted him this little visit. One of the guards opened the gate and Galleine let himself into the dimly lit, stinky little cell. He saw his love interest tied to a long stake by her arms and feet. He saw her head bowed and her hair rumpled and caked with dirt.

“Melissa,” He called her gently.

She glanced up and stared at him blankly for a split second in lack of recognition, and then when she realized who was in front of her, she brightened.

“My lord. . .” She mouthed gently. Words seemed inadequate to capture her feelings in that moment.

“Melissa, I am really sorry for everything that you have gone through because of me. It’s. . .”

“Don’t be sorry. None of this is your fault.”

“No,” The Prince objected. “It’s because of me that you and your brother are in this hell hole. But I promise to do everything in my capacity to set things right as soon as possible.”

Melissa nodded dumbly. She lacked the strength to argue any further. “How is my brother?”

“He is going to be fine.”

“What do you mean he’s going to be fine?” Melissa queried concernedly. “Did anything happen to him during the fight?”

“He passed out, but I’m sure he will come to soon. That’s if he hasn’t already.”

“You mean Craig knocked Alan out in that?” She chuckled drily. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Craig didn’t. I did.” Prince Galleine corrected and when he saw the dark expression that crept onto Melissa’s face, he knew he had some serious explanations to do. “I took Craig’s place because I thought it was the best way I could prevent Craig from being battered by your brother. Alan could have beaten the hell out of him and maybe even killed him because that is part of the fight and. . . “

“My brother is not a monster!” Melissa interjected.

“I didn’t say he was. I was saying he could. . . “

“Shut up! I’m sick of listening to you,” Melissa screamed, her despair reaching its peak.

“Melissa. . .” The Prince called gently, as he reached out to pacify his steaming lover.

“Don’t touch me!” Melissa yelled. “Just go. Go away, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

The Prince stood there dumbly, unable to comprehend how quickly things had deteriorated between him and Melissa. He stood a few more moments before he turned and headed for the door of the cell wordlessly. As he reached the gate, he turned and tried to say something but then he decided against. He stared at Melissa for a few more seconds then he was gone.

As soon as Prince Galleine left her cell, Melissa broke down, letting the gates of her tears fling open. Torrents of salty water streamed down her sunken cheeks. She hadn’t meant what she said about not wanting to see the Prince again. The hopelessness of her current situation, the uncertainty of the future as well as her fear of her brother getting seriously injured had combined to make her utter those statements which she wished she could take back now. But then should the Prince have just walked out like that?

“I hope we get the chance to make up,” She muttered to herself.


* * *

The watch tower at the Cevout facility was specifically designed to keep any kind of influx of attacks from the federal troops or any other hostile party at bay. Three rebel guards were always posted there both day and night thereby making the rebel camp one of the hardest places to sneak into in Nersea. However, like most things in the natural world, the watch tower had its own Achilles heels. This weak point was in form of a blind-spot to the west of the tower where it was possible to hide and not be seen by the guards on duty. This blind-spot was where five persons: Marcus, Elliott, Xesandra, Helena and Royce, hid themselves ahead of the duel between the Prince and Frasser.

Xesandra had discovered that secret spot two years earlier when she and her sister, Veramanda, had chased a small band of renegades that had looted their home village.

“Are you sure we are really invisible to the guards from here?” Elliott asked as he looked over his shoulders nervously. “I have a feeling of being watched.”

“Nonsense,” Xesandra remarked. “Nobody is looking at you except us. You think if they’ve seen you, you won’t have got company by now?”

“Xesandra’s right, we are safe here,” Helena said. “By the way, the Prince’s duel is in an hour’s time. We haven’t agreed on how to get the Prince out.”

Marcus whose arm hung loosely around Helena’s waist replied. “I think we are going to be breaking more than the Prince out. When I saw him the other time, there were two knights. I suppose they were kidnapped with him.”

“There were about six people reported missing at our administrative headquarter,” Elliott informed. “There is the prince himself, the two knights in his company, his man servant, his lover who was the reason the Prince left Austieres in the first place and her brother.”

“How are we sure they are all here?” Xesandra asked.

“We can’t be sure,” Marcus answered. “The best we can do is make estimates and calculated guesses.”

“That said, I don’t think we need an elaborate plan to get the Prince out of here,” Elliott observed. “All we need to do is attack once the duel commences.”

“Mindless attack. Typical barbarian strategy,” Xesandra asked.

“Watch your tongue lady,” Elliott warned. “I have a very short fuse with uncouth people.”

“I wonder what you think you can do.” Xesandra replied.

“Stop it, you two!” Marcus said. “I actually have a plan but I don’t know how viable it will be.”

“Fill us in,” Helena said.

“Well, I will suggest that when the fight starts we create a big diversion, I don’t know how yet. We will get a good number of guards to come out. Xesandra will be waiting to cut down those that rush outside while Elliott and I will go inside to break the Prince and the others out,” Marcus explained.

“Not as easy as it sounds but it’s worth giving a trial anyway,” Xesandra commented.

“Great idea darl,” Helena said with a little peck to Marcus’ cheek.

“Darl?” Marcus repeated, not sure he heard her right.

“Yeah, darling,” Helena said with an expansive smile..

“Excuse me, when you were delegating responsibilities, you made no mention of me,” Royce observed. “Do you not think there is anything I can contribute to the success of this quest?”

“You will contribute alright,” Elliott replied. “You can assist miss badmouth here in keeping off the rebel guards or you can come with us into the facility.”

Royce considered his options for a few moments before he replied, “I think I will be more useful alongside Xesandra. But I doubt if we will record any success with this adventure if you two don’t stop antagonizing each other.”

“That’s true,” Marcus added. “I know you don’t like each other, but for the sake of us all just bury the hatchet.”

“Alright, for the team’s sake,” Elliott said, before stretching his hand to Xesandra. “Friends?”

The dark lady kicked outstretched his hand away and made a face at him, “Forget it, I don’t like you, nothing is going to change that.”

Before Elliott could react, a loud whistle went off in the rebel facility.

“I suppose that is signaling the start of the fight,” said Helena.

“Right,” Marcus replied. “Let’s get to action. Helena, you and Royce should think of something that will the guards out of there. Xesandra, position yourself well to get clean shots at the rebels. Elliott and I will go into the facility. Are we clear?”

The team members nodded in reply.

“Shouldn’t we even have a team name or something?” Helena said

“Good idea. How does Saviours of the Prince sound?” Elliott suggested.

“Terrible,” Xesandra replied, shaking her head in mock disgust.

“What about Red Knights?” Marcus offered. “I remember those wonderful tales my father told me about Knights. And what they do is pretty much the same as what we are doing.”

“Brilliant. Red is my favourite colour and being a Knight is cool too even if the order is not official,” Xesandra replied.

“Any objections to the name?”

No one objected. That was the birth of what was to be the most feared knighthood in the history of Casville. Moments later, the Red knights were positioned in their strategic places. Marcus breathed hard as he and Elliott leaned against the back wall of the facility waiting for Helena and Royce to strike.

“What is she doing?” Marcus heard Elliott ask.

“Who?”

“Xesandra,” Elliott replied, pointing her to Marcus. “She is making fire. That’s not part of the plan.”

“She wants to shoot burning arrows which is a very good idea considering the fact that a burning arrow is way more dangerous than an unburning one,” Marcus said. “Let us focus on our part of the plan.”

“Yes, yes, focus.”

Marcus tried to laugh at his friends antics but he found out that he couldn’t. He swallowed instead. It’s going to be a long night, he thought.

carmelion:
Ah!,who did this?

I honestly don't know. . . The story will be back on track very soon tho'...

My phone has been stolen . . Might be a while before the next update...

Timcy2:
wow.


a little background about XENDER

Xender? You mean Xesandra..

I admit she is one mysterious character, the next few updates might make things clearer about her.

stuff46:
As the story, the plot get settled. Am just marveled at the way new characters are introduced; its superb.

Good work sire!

Thanks sir.. I hope to continue to impress.

Osaze20091:
Hope they get there in time to save the prince,..thumb up

Thanks sir..

princessadeola:
d prince will be saved.

Let's hope he is...

ifyjohnson:
Nice one vantee

Thanks Ify..

bellovers:
check it out guys. I guarantee you you will enjoy this story https://www.nairaland.com/2695510/love-non-human

Checked it... Nice one.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Dedicated to the ghost readers...

It was the ninth hour of the bitingly cold winter morning. Marcus and Elliott could be seen making their way slowly and steadily to the Cevout stronghold of the rebels through the eastern highlands. They had resorted to continuing their journey on foot since their horses had been stolen at Garras’ the previous day.

“Can we take a break here?” Marcus asked Elliott as they reached the top of a small plateau. “My legs are really weary.”

“Of course,” Elliott smiled indulgently. “I take it you are not much of a trekker.”

“I once was, not anymore,” Marcus replied as he eased himself onto a nearby rock. “Do you suppose we can get our horses back? That horse is not mine.”

“You stole it?”

“No,” Marcus replied with a slight shake of his head. “Tramps was my master’s but I had some privileges with him.”

“You had a master before?” Elliott asked with unfeigned interest. “What are you? Some runaway slave?”

“No, I was a squire,” Marcus answered. “A part time one though. I did some time too hunting games with my brothers.”

“That is interesting.” Elliott remarked. “Whose squire were you?”

“Why are you asking all these questions?”

Elliott held his hands up in an amusing gesture of innocence. “I’m just interested that’s all.”

“Okay, I served under Sir Maxime.”

Elliott suddenly brightened. “That’s it! You were the one that fought at the tournament. I knew it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, there is no use denying. I know the truth already.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you are the one who wore Sir Maxime’s armour and fought at the last tournament. Your body size and fighting style perfectly fit that of the Knight at the tournament.”

“Have you seen me fight anywhere that you talk about my fighting style?”

“Did we not take on the rebels together when my party was attacked at our camp?”

“Okay, you’ve got me,” Marcus conceded. “I hope you won’t tell anyone.”

“Not to worry. I won’t tell a soul, at least when I’m not drunk.” Elliott promised. “Why did your Lord let you fight instead of him at the tournament?”

“He doesn’t know what I have done,” Marcus replied. “He was critically sick when the tournament was announced so I took it upon myself to take his place at the jousting competition. When I am done with my adventures here I will ensure that I go back and explain what I did to him regardless of what happens.”

“One more question and I’ll let you have your rest. Why did you not show up for that deciding duel with Sir Millicent? I was one of those numerous people who stood vigil at the coliseum waiting for you to arrive. Were you scared of him?”

“No, I wasn’t. The reason I did not. . . .Wait!” Marcus cut himself short at the sight of some moving figures across the valley down the plateau. “Look down there.”

Elliott looked where Marcus was indicating and he saw two ladies and a boy riding towards Casville.

“What about them? Do you think the horses they are riding are ours?”

“No… no, the thing is, that lady in red robe,” Marcus informed Elliott as he broke into a run. “She is Helena.”

Before Elliott could ask who Helena was, Marcus had already disappeared down one of the sloppy sides of the plateau.

“Hey!” Elliott called, running after him. “What the hell are you doing?”

* * *

There was a mammoth feeling of emptiness in the Casvillean royal court despite the fact that there were no less than two hundred people of noble ranking seated in the magnificent hall. That feeling could be linked to absence of three key figures in the court - the Queen, who was still battling with her rare disease, the King, who had been gruesomely murdered just a day before and Sir Millicent, who was grieving his uncle’s untimely death.

Father James, the reverend of the Catholic church of Casville and the chief of the council, stood to address the people. “Ladies and gentlemen of this grand court, I greet you in the name of our Lord and in the name of his blessed mother. I know we should all be in our homes grieving the death of our beloved king but this council meeting is important to the safety of our land. We need ideas and suggestions on how to run the affairs of this empire now that the ruler is dead and the heir to the throne is nowhere to be found.”

Lord Ashael, the Governor of Austieres was the first to speak, “Distinguished ladies and gentlemen of the court. I will suggest that we increase the efforts we are putting in search of the Prince; I believe the search parties are simply not doing enough. Let us increase them by seven folds so that we can see the prince and crown him as soon as possible.”

“And what happens to the throne while we search?”

“We keep it sacred of course.”

Lord Bradeigh, a very prominent member of the court raised his hands for attention and after he was granted audience. He said, “My fellow noblemen, I agree with Lord Ashael’s idea of increasing the numerical strength of the search parties. It is indeed a very wise thing to do. But I think his second idea is a dangerous one to follow. Keeping our throne empty in the name of sacredness is suicidal. We really need someone on that throne. Let us not forget that the rebels are waxing stronger everyday and that bastard Jiarchinn has successfully united all the savage tribes. If any of these people learn that we are without a leader of any kind for a prolonged period of time, then we would in trouble.”

“What exactly are you saying, Lord Bradeigh?” Father James inquired.

“Regency,” Lord Bradeigh replied immediately. “I’m suggesting that we install someone who has good leadership as regent pending the time we get the Prince.”

A general murmur of approval could be heard from the nobles in the room.

Father James was silent for a few thoughtful moments after which he spoke in his signatory calm voice, “Although I have my reservations, your idea still remains a good one and everyone here seem to agree. If I may ask, who do you think we can choose as the regent?”

“Well, we have a lot of options,” Lord Bradeigh said thoughtfully. “We could use Princess Dian, Lord Wesley or General Burth. But I believe Sir Millicent is the best man for the task.”

“Aye!” The nobles in the court cried in support.

“You have spoken very well Lord Bradeigh, please have your seat,” Father James said. “Can those in support of Sir Millicent as regent signify by raising their hands so that we can take a count?”

There was no need to count after all. Every hand, save those of Father James, was up. In the next moment, the process of installing Sir Millicent as the official regent of the Nersean Empire was kick-started.

* * *

Helena and her two companions, Royce and Xesandra were riding back to Casville. Helena, after much coaxing, had agreed to return home only on the condition that Xesandra would look for Marcus and bring him to her as soon as she could. They were almost at the Seuw when a long haired young man whose clothes were covered with grime jumped out the nearby shrubbery and ran up to them.

Xesandra reflexively drew her bow, ready to bury no less than three arrows in the youth’s chest but Helena’s reaction gave her a rethink.

“Marcus!” She screamed, hastily leaping off her horse and running to kiss her much sought lover, grime, sweat and all.

Marcus had never kissed before, except that embarrassing one he had been forced by his brothers to give a childhood crush when he was barely ten. Now he found his lips and tongue in a blissful, romantic tandem with Helena’s. The next fifteen seconds they spent kissing was the best fifteen seconds of Marcus’ life. Looking at the couple kissing away passionately, it was impossible to think that this was only the second time they were seeing each other in their lives.

“You look more beautiful than I remember,” Marcus commented as he observed her face after they had broken the kiss.

“And you look older,” Helena said with a giggle, as she ran her hands lovingly over Marcus’ untrimmed two weeks beard.

“Is this the man you were pining for ma’am?” Xesandra asked Helena, who replied with a simple nod. “I have to say I am not as impressed I hoped to be. I expected a lot more.”

Before Helena could get a word out in favour of her man, another fellow emerged from the same part of the shrubbery where Marcus had gotten out not long ago.

“What’s this about?” Elliott asked Marcus as soon he sighted him. Then when he saw that his friend was in a lady’s arms, he added, “Do you remember that we are on an adventure to save the Prince?

Marcus looked like he had forgotten all about that. “Oh that, well it depend on what this lady here says because after having found her now, I don’t want to let her out of my sight anymore.” He then turned to Helena and asked, “Will you follow me to rescue the Prince, please?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Xesandra replied for her. “She has been through enough already.”

“It’s okay. I’ll go with them,” Helena replied without giving the situation any serious consideration. All she wanted now was anything to keep Marcus by her side.

“I’m coming with you,” Royce, who had been silent all these while, informed Helena. “Freya would skin me alive if I go back without you.”

“I’ll come along too,” Xesandra announced.

“This is great,” Elliott remarked. “Since your horses are available. Marcus and I needn’t walk all the way down to Cevout as intended. Can I ride with you ma’am?”

“No, I always ride alone,” Xesandra spat. “Ride with the boy.”

Moments later, the party began their ride to Cevout where the mega fight between Frasser and the Prince was to take place later in the day.


THE END OF CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CONTESTANTS 45: VANTEE20 AND TKUSH.

Stanzas 1, 6: Vantee20

Stanzas 2, 3, 4, 5: Tkush.

TITLE: A SONG OF LIFE AND DEATH.


Vantee20

What is life if not one grand stageplay in which all humans are casts?
Where what we have in our script is all we know.

One by one, we enter the theater of the world and go on to act our part in the play of life,
Some with prominent roles, others not so.

Ultimately, we'll act out our part and leave the stage,
There and then, to our creator, the play wright, we go.

Tkush

So soothing comes the morning brew
When I realize it’s a new dawn

For new possibilities and hopes
In a very challenging economy

Where perfidy is the order of the day
No work No pay…that’s if there is even job

Still hope on nairaland to keep the day busy

Tkush

Life O’ life
Why so unfair to a larger percentage

Where fraud is celebrated more than hardwork
Giving hopes with what exists not

Then again I give it a second thought
That it's worthwhile being here

Hope sauntered around me
Cause it's appreciated here

Could propel lalasticlala for FP
Because there is still breath in me

Then again appreciation comes above death.

Tkush

Death O’ death
Why so cruel

Abode far deeper than human surface
Hope's destroyer and family invalidator

No ambition to pursue
And no degree of greatness

No one to greet good morning
And no iota of sweet dream whisper

Nothing like age to live by
And no intimidation of any kind, that’s if you would appreciate that

To myself I give it a third thought
That I love being here

Being agree, even when I'm not there yet
I'm not where I used to be

Even when I don’t have all the beautiful
things
I could atleast see all the beautiful things

When the “Big Life” is not here yet
I could atleast fantasize while I work towards it

Tkush

Grace sufficient
Cause my connection with “Most High” is intact.

I am Black
And I understand the hustling script.

I might not be the richest yet
But I'm not dead.

To all who want to lose hope
Opportunity is here in disguise.

Keep your hope high while alive
Cause you already great in the making.

Vantee20

Many times in the past, I have asked myself, why am I supposed to die?
Why do I, someday, have to take a fatal blow from death's club?

Is there no immortality portion I can drink?
Or some death repelling lotion I can rub?

Decades of fruitless searches and profitless quests have however led me to embrace the fact that;
Death is a non-negotiable debt all humans must pay - a truth I had long chosen to snub.


Analysis:

The poem speaks about the struggles of ones lifetime and the inevitability of death. Every stanza has an allusion to the two central themes, life and death, hence the title "A song of life and death."

Themes: Life, Death, Hope, Appreciation.




Cc: Llaykorn, texanomaly.

Osaze20091:
Am sure you are the that will get smite ...thumb up

Let's hope the Prince will be able to beat him.. Thanks boss..

RICKYMARIO:
Lovely! keep it up.

Thanks sir..

Timcy2:
feed me more. Great work.

More on the way.. Thanks.

lordseb:
Both Helena and Melissa turned to see a bald,
little member of the sect behind them,

lovely story but u made a little mistake, it should be Helena and Xesandra, not Helena and Melissa

Modified..

Thanks a lot..

lordseb:
Guy update the story na

Done.. I'm sorry about the delay..

mhiz:
m soo loving dx story, great work. please more updates

Timcy2:
wow, splendid.

lordseb:
splendid story

Timcy2:
wow, splendid.

Thanks for commenting sirs and ma'am. I appreciate..

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Ronan Temple, the operational base of the oldest and most powerful secret society in Casville - the Golden eye sect, was especially silent tonight. Two dozens Night chasers stood sentry in and around the temple to ensure that the monthly ritual ceremony that was being carried out by the leading members of the sect in the secret chamber was not intruded.

The secret chamber where the ritual was being performed was lit by a giant lampstand that bore seven golden lamps. The red and black painting on the four walls of the room with the golden eye inscription in the middle as well as the seven human skulls that adorned the stone altar in the centre of the room gave the room a complete feeling of the diabolical. About fifty persons dressed in all black hooded robes formed a large circle around the altar, moving rhythmically back and forth as they chanted a ritual mantra that they called the song of death.

“It is time!” Nicolai, the leader of the sect, said suddenly, bringing an end to the song of death. He then turned to a member beside him and said, “Soseu, go and bring a lamb.”

Soseu bowed to Nicolai before walking out of the room to the special room where all the kidnapped ladies were packed. At the sight of him, all of them backed away, praying not to be picked. They knew what his picking them would translate to – rape and death.

Soseu took his time to scan the cowering ladies in his fore. Unlike previous times when he just picked at random, he already knew who he was going to choose now. He just needed to identify that accursed girl whose abduction had occasioned the death of two chasers.

He found her soon enough, she was in a corner sandwiched between two chubby redheads that appeared to be twin sisters. Soseu grabbed the dark haired girl and dragged her along to the ritual room. He was surprised that she did not utter a sound. Other girls, he reasoned, will have screamed their lungs out by now.

“I’m taking you to where you will be used by forty nine men and then beheaded,” He said, in a bid to scare the unfazed girl.

Her countenance did not change; she only continued to stare blankly at him. Soseu concluded that she was a witch of some sort so he quickened his pace and hurriedly took her to the waiting sect members.

“Such beauty,” A senior member breathed. “Is this one not too pretty to be wasted at the altar of Dammon?”

Nicolai shook his head sadly, “I’m disappointed that this is coming from you, Roan, a long-time member of this cult. Have you not leant that there is no such thing as beauty or ugliness in here?”

“Forgive me master,” Roan apologized.

Nicolai dismissed Roan’s apology with a preemptory wave of his hand. “Bring her here.” He commanded in a grave tone.

Soseu dragged Helena to where Nicolai stood. The sect leader observed the dark haired girl keenly. He had to admit that she was queer. She had not uttered a word all these while. That won’t save her from being beheaded though, Nicolai thought as he signaled to four sect members to pin the girl down in the middle of the circle.

He cast off his golden robe and slowly approached the half-naked, eagle spread girl on the floor. He smiled lustily as he fed his eyes on the features of the girl. This was a welcome change from that troll he had last month. As Nicolai went on his knees, ready to plunge his member in the depth of the young girl’s thigh, a sharp, sudden pain exploded in his back. It was a life sucking, darkness inducing pain. In the next moment, Nicolai fell to the concrete floor of the secret chamber, dead from the effect of an arrow that had lodged in his spine.

An unsurprising pandemonium ensued in the secret chamber. Some sect members were trying to revive their leader; others were trying to ascertain where Nicolai’s assailant was. In the middle of the bedlam, three members went down at the same time – they had all been struck down by arrows in different parts of their body.

“Over there,” An observant member cried, pointing to a corner of the ceiling. “He’s shooting from. . .” He couldn’t complete his revelation because an arrow had pierced his throat in that instant.

Three Chasers raced into the chamber against their orders. It was a punishable offence for a chaser to enter the ritual, yet this trio took the current situation as an exception. They did not escape the dire consequences however as one after the other they were taken down by the sharpshooter above them. Before long, the secret chamber became empty save the numerous dead bodies and Helena, who sat there on the floor waiting for the saviour to reveal himself so that she could express her gratitude. A part of her said it was Marcus, but she didn’t feel so sure. How could he have gotten here in time to save her?

The Saviour waited for several more seconds to ensure that the coast was clear before easing himself down from where he had perched on the ceiling. Helena’s heart did a double kick as soon as she saw the person who had slayed a good number of sect members for her sake. He was a sect member too, at least he was dressed like one complete with the hood, and his figure bore no resemblance to that of Marcus.

“Who are you?” Helena asked, wondering if this person had meant to save her or he was just on a coincidental vengeance mission or something.

The Saviour pulled back the hood to reveal that he was actually a she.

“I am Xesandra.”


* * *

“Craig! No!” Melissa screamed against the bar of her cell as she watched Craig being dragged by two rebel guards down the passage way.

Melissa flopped against the wall of her cell in despair. It was as if a chunk of her had been taken away with Craig. Over the time of their incarceration, she had so gotten used to being around him that she felt somehow empty that he was gone. He had been her sole adviser, comforter and confidante.

The sound and sight of the bar of her cell swinging open for the second time that night ended her reverie. A huge, hairy and scary looking guard walked in. Melissa sprang up sharply, folding her arms across her breast defensively.

“What do you want?”

“I have got orders for you to come with me,” He growled. “You are to follow me to the amphitheater.”

“No please,” Melissa pleaded with a shaky voice. “Don’t let them hurt me. The Prince will be here to pay my ransom soon.”

The guard laughed. He sounded like a croaking toad. “What Prince are you talking about?”

Was there any other Prince in Casville apart from Galleine? Melissa wanted to ask but she considered the fact that such retort might bring unsavory consequences.

“Prince Galleine,” She replied gently instead.

The guard laughed harder. “It is a shame that you are oblivious of the fact that the Prince has been in our custody for some time now.”

Melissa went still with shock. The Prince in the rebels’ custody? How was that possible?

“You lie!” She screamed. “I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to,” The guard said smugly. “If you don’t go blind before tomorrow, then you are going to see him when he takes on Frasser tomorrow evening.”

Melissa felt like the wind was knocked out of her. Her high castle of hope was instantly reduced to rubbles of hopelessness.

“Since you know that nobody is coming to pay anything for you any longer, will you follow me now?”


* * *

Xesandra was a five feet nine inches tall lady with back length straight hair, a breathtakingly beautiful ebony face and a voluptuous body. She had a bow and a bag of arrow strapped to her back.

“How did you find me?” Helena asked her after an effusive show of gratitude which the dark lady was dismissive of.

“I’ve been watching you since you were abducted at Seuw. I followed the Chasers down here thinking it would be less bloody to save you here. I was wrong,” She replied.

“Were you the only one shooting all those arrows? At one point I could have sworn that there were at least two people up there shooting.”

Xesandra smiled knowingly. “I was the only one. I’m not trying to be immodest but I’m the best archer in Casville.” She then added after a brief pause, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Not so fast,” A chilling voice said behind them.

Both Helena and Xesandra turned to see a bald, little member of the sect behind them, brandishing a tip sharp spear. His mien suggested that he wouldn’t hesitate to let fly at any of them at the slightest provocation. Helena recognised him as Roan, the sect member who had mentioned her beauty earlier on

“Drop your weapons,” He said mainly to Xesandra.

Xesandra bit her lips in a bid to suppress laughter. This idiot thought he had gotten her not knowing that she could take him down anytime she wanted. She only wanted to play the victim for the time being.

“Don’t hurt us please,” She pled. “We are willing to do anything for you to spare us,” She saw Helena looking at her strangely. Don’t worry girl, I got this one.

“Anything, you mean,” The little man squeaked, unable to keep the excitement of the chance of lying with two beautiful ladies out of his voice.

“Yes, anything,” Xesandra affirmed. As Roan was trying to make up his mind on how to carry out the deed without any complication, Xesandra with an incredible speed drew her bow and fired an arrow at the despicable man.

She was too late. Roan was already gushing blood from the mouth a split second before Xesandra’s arrow hit home. Someone had obviously beaten her to killing the pervert bastard. In the next moment, the little mystery of Roan’s killer was unraveled as the sect member fell to floor to reveal a brown haired young boy behind him holding a bloodied dagger in his hands. He obviously had sneaked up to him and stabbed him from the back.

“Royce! How did you get here?”

Before Royce could get a word out, Xesandra interjected. “I think that story will be safer to tell when we are out of here.”

***

There was a lot of screaming of obscenities at the mini amphitheater in the Cevout stronghold of the rebels as the crowd of inmates awaited the arrival of the contestants for that night’s inmate fights. Melissa sat in a corner with her eyes fixed on the medium sized ring in the middle of the amphitheater but her mind was very far away. She was still deep in thought about the revelation of the guard who had brought her to the amphitheater. If indeed the Prince was in captivity like her then what was the likelihood of her getting out of this hell-hole?

The noise making around her died down suddenly, causing her to jolt back to reality. The cause of silence was the arrival of a tall, long-haired man who had a grossly disfigured face – It was Dunstan, the current commandant of the rebels.

“Call the contestants in,” He ordered his subordinates.

A gasp escaped Melissa’s lips as the two contestants were brought to the ring. Her brother Alan and her friend Craig were to take on each other.

“No!” She screamed, unable to bear to the thought of both men fighting each other.

“Restrain that LovePeddler!” Dunstan howled and Melissa was instantly dragged back to her cell amidst her cries and protests.

“You have turned my sister to a mindless fool,” Alan said to his opponent. “One more reason for me to beat the hell out of you.”

“You are not going to do that,” A voice responded behind Alan. “I’m fighting for him.”

Alan spun round to see who had spoken and he saw to his surprise the crown Prince standing behind him in the ring.

“You are here too? That’s great,” Alan said. “I’ve been meaning to settle some scores for some time.”

“Enough of the chit chat, let’s get to business,” said Dunstan. “The rule is that there are no rules and no weapons. You are to fight until someone dies or surrenders. Clear?”

The two men nodded and promptly charged at each other with their fists since they had not been given any weapons. Prince Galleine knew that he had to be careful. He was more used to fighting with swords in structured tournaments than fist fighting and then Alan did not seem a much less formidable fighter than him. He was just as tall and as built as the Prince.

In the middle of his analysis of his opponent, the Prince felt a sharp sting in his jaw. He had not been fast enough to prevent taking a jab from Alan.

“How does that feel Royal bastard?” Alan taunted as looked to get in position for another attack.

Prince Galleine exploded with anger. In his fury, he leapt in the air and delivered a brutal double legged kick on Alan’s chest. The red haired youth somersaulted twice in the air before landing on his head and then crashing on the floor unconscious.

The spectators went wild with their cheers. The prince ignored them and walked to where Alan lay and he crouched beside the still figure.

“In case you are hearing this, which I doubt, just know that the only reason why I am not finishing you off is because of my love for your sister. If not for her, I would have hacked your head off your neck, unroyal bastard.”

In the rostrum of the amphitheater, Dunstan and Frasser, whom Dunstan had summoned during the fight, were engaged in a conversation on the next day’s fight between Frasser and Prince Galleine.

“Did you see how easily he dealt with this one?” The rebel commandant asked Frasser. “You know how much bets I have played on your fight. Are you sure you are going to win?”

“Certainly,” Frasser assured. “He’s not my match. I will smite him tomorrow.”

“I hope so.”

Tkush, you have a mail..

vickkydgreat:
Vantee baba u ar really moving with this story its as if am watching film more mb to your fone

Thanks boss..

RICKYMARIO:
Welldone!

Thanks for commenting sir..

carmelion:
Oh my,more please,feels like am watching movie.

@Vatntee,do you type straight from your heart or do you have this written down somewhere already?


Thumbs up,excellent.

You'll definitely get more ma'am..

No, I haven't written the complete story somewhere already. Why do you ask?

Thanks ma.