Peldorian

Magnar forced his sword low, lunging for Lennex’s knees. Lennex parried the blow and forced one upon the younger boy. Magnar grunted as sweat streamed down his face in rivulets and ran into his dark brown eyes, blurring his vision. In that instant, when he reached up his hands to wipe away the moisture, Lennex made his move.

            He grabbed Magnar’s wrist, knocking the sword from his grip. Magnar was roughly pushed to the ground and pinned down by the body on top which easily outweighed him. Lennex wrapped his long arm around Magnar’s neck and began to strangle the boy, his tongue sticking out in relentless concentration.

            Magnar moved his eyes to the sword lying on the grass. If only he could reach it, if only Lennex eased the weight a little, he could shimmy out and then…

            Blackness began to spot his eyes and he realized that it was his turn, his move. He needed to win, he had to win. His arm managed to come free of its pin and he grabbed the only thing within reach, Lennex’s tongue.

            He pulled hard and the older boy screeched in pain, rolling off Magnar and leaving him to snatch at his sword. When Lennex finally stood, still holding his tongue, Magnar was there to meet him, the sword point bearing into Lennex’s neck.

            “Surrender you pig,” Magnar hissed through clenched teeth. He dug the sword into the Lennex’s neck, just hard enough to leave a dark bruise to add to the other boy’s collection.

            “I give, I give,” Lennex squeaked, swallowing against the point. “You won again. Just do not kill me.” His lips cynically curled upwards. “Though it might be a little difficult with wood rather than sharpened metal.”

            The sound of clapping made Magnar lower the wooden sword and a tight smile forced its way out. “I beat you again brother,” he quietly gloated.

            The swordsman tutor was still applauding and grinning foolishly. “You are unbeatable young eppidat.”

            “Yes, well I try,” and with that, Magnar turned sharply on his heel and walked back up the castle walkway and to his room, ignoring the honorable title of fierce warrior and protector.

            He entered and slammed the door shut behind him, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. A small victory in his dreary world. He sunk down onto the unevenly cobblestoned floor and put his head in his hands, ignoring the small room he had been appointed to.

            His sister, his beloved sister had disappeared six days ago.

            He had tried to obtain an audience with his father, the High General and Protector to the king but was somehow avoided. His other sister, Janacia was surrounded by tedious tutors and monotonous lessons while his older brother had rarely time to talk, preferring to fight with anything and anyone available. Magnar let loose a small smile as he thought about all the times he had battled his twenty year old brother and won. He had always been a champion but now he had a reason.

            The smile slipped off as quickly as it had come. For days, he had been searching for clues leading to his sister’s whereabouts. All were false leads, dead ends and more depression.

            Guilt trickled into his heart as he thought about her pretty, beaming face. He had never told Aleera he loved her or that he even cared. But he did, he did so, so much. He just didn’t really think about it. 

            It felt as if his heart had dried up and become a black skeleton of charred remains. It felt as if the world would constantly carry sorrow and never become a joyful planet again. He felt like there was no reason to live now that his darling sister had vanished. His love for her hurt. It was his sister, his baby sister and he loved her so much he would willingly follow her into hell and sell his soul just to find her.

            Magnar’s love for her went beyond anything a brother would typically feel toward his sister. He loathed his feelings but he knew what they meant and he couldn’t repress them or pretend they didn’t exist. He had already tried.

            I am a disgusting monster, he miserably thought. He traced the puckered scar running from his right ear to his lower jawline.

            Minutes passed before he stood up and looked around with a grimace.

            His room was located in the servant’s quarters, a dreary part of the castle that was run by the whispered orders of those in fear.

             The room he had been put in was a measly affair of cold stone and meager furniture. A soft cot was placed in the corner and a rickety stand was placed beside it. A glass water pitcher perched atop the stand and Magnar cleaned the sweat of his flushed face.

            The small window revealed a darkening sky and the threat of rain. He scowled at the ominous clouds which were rapidly approaching before covering the window with a stiff canvas and sullenly walking out.

            As he trudged down a dismal hallway, memories of his sister swirled around his head.

            “Shilo, wait for me,” Aleera called to him, running after the young man.

            Magnar whirled around, his charcoal eyes flashing as he glared at his sister, ignoring the name she had called him which sparked his feelings for her. “What Al? I have work to accomplish,” he impatiently snapped.

            The hurt look in her eyes clashed with the lopsided grin and he immediately felt a pang of regret. “Damn, I’m such an idiot.” He looked down at his feet before looking up again. “I am so sorry Al.”

            The sunlight streaming in from the multiple windows silkily shone off her champagne hair as it swished around her hips. The rays provided the girl with a healthy glow and made her look all the more beautiful. With a grimace, Magnar turned away to hide the quick flash of adoration before it was swallowed by a cloak of impassiveness.

            She grabbed his hand and stopped walking. He kept his gaze down at his feet, afraid of the expression that might reveal itself.

            Aleera brushed a strand of jet-black hair covering Magnar’s eyes and her lush lips curled upward. “Oh Magnar, what is it this time?” Her voice was soft and tender as she traced his jagged scar, igniting the flame deep within his chest. 

            “Our father.”

            “And?”

            “He is just so frustrating! I know not what he desires for me to do. When I fight, he glares at me disapprovingly yet when I am conducting political business, he looks at me with disgust. I cannot please him no matter how hard I try. Yesterday, I was in a match with a distant lord when he came by. You know what he said Aleera?” He gave her no time to answer. “He said this: ‘Boy, you are too soft on your opponents. You do not inflict enough damage and you clumsily fight, filled with rage.’ And you know what the best part is, Al?” he spat sarcastically. “I had just broken the boy’s arm…”

            A frown marred the girl’s features before she stared at Magnar, her features twisted into an elegant question. “Why do you have the inclination to please father so much?”

            He opened his mouth before shutting it with a snap. He opened it again before looking away and muttering, “You don’t understand.”

            She gently tugged his angled chin so he was facing her again. “Magnar. Shilo. I know not what father desires from you but you shan’t trouble yourself. You are perfect just the way you are and I sincerely hope you never change that only for father’s acceptance. It would inflict such deep sadness within my heart.”

            Her kind words melted his heart and he smiled tenderly before embracing her soft form in a hug. “You know I would never want that to happen. I cannot bear the sight of you crying.”

            “Ahem.”

            Magnar jerked his head down and found the eldest of Zaros’s children, Janacia, staring at him. Her eyes were narrowed into slits as she appraised him suspiciously. “Why are you standing in the middle of the floor…staring up at the ceiling…with your mouth open?”

            He glowered at her but held his tongue, knowing any answer would receive a sharp retort.

            A violent clap of thunder echoed and intensified around the stone hallway as a jagged bolt of light tore the black sky in half. Rain, which had been nimbly falling began to pour down in biting torrents and the ground outside turned into sticky mud.

            So much for a trip to the stables, Magnar bleakly thought. With a smirk, he rolled his eyes at Janacia before turning back the way he had come.

            When he arrived at his discouraging room, his thoughts matched the lugubrious rain and he sat down on the damp cot, overcome with depression.

            He could not find Aleera no matter how many bribes he doled out, no matter how many people he asked and the worst part was, not a soul seemed to care. Granted, the High General had servants searching for her but the peasants were unskilled and oblivious to any possible clues.

            With a sigh, Magnar nudged off his boots and curled up under the rough blankets, shivering as icy rain forced its way in. A hungry wind momentarily shoved aside the cloth and Magnar caught sight of the moon. It seemed to glower down at him, speaking of the horrors waiting for him in the stormy future. The glowing orb temporarily lit up the cold room and cast menacing shadows across the stone.

            An abyssal voice stirred in Magnar and he tried to push it down only to fail.           

You will never find her.

            The young man closed his eyes and began to drown himself into a deep, nightmarish sleep, ignoring the raging storm pushing in through the rigid canvas.

            Visions of Aleera’s mutilated body floated around the blackness.

            Blood splattered across his fluttering eyelids.

            Screams severed the eerie silence. 

            Oh sister, where are you?