The Legend of Alexandros: Belen (11 page)

“Belen can be very persuasive when he wants to be. So we are visiting the elves you say?”

“Oh, yes, and I am most excited, too…I only hope they allow a hideous beast like myself to enter their beautiful kingdom.”

“Hideous?”

“I am a monster, a disgusting creature. I have been told so my whole life… humans have burned me with torches, pierced me with sharp weapons, and have called me horrible things…I must be a monster if they feared me that much.”

“You are as far away from a monster as possible. No man could ever even compare to who you are. Man should only hope one day to have the heart you have. You are beautiful and magnificent…you are precious.” Tears filled Elora’s eyes.

Winston’s beautiful purple eyes filled with tears, too; he leaned forward and gently placed his head on her lap. His tears rolled down onto her legs—and, suddenly, her broken legs began to heal. She felt not an ounce of pain as her bones mended themselves; in moments she was able to move her legs again. Elora sat straight up and dangled her legs off the crates. She gave Winston an embrace like no other.

“Oh, thank you!” she cried.

Winston returned the embrace.

“No princess, thank you.”

CHAPTER XII

A STORY RARELY
TOLD

V
AMPIRES ARE CREATURES
that exist by feeding on the life force or essence of the living. Vampires are almost as old as man. At one point vampires became such a huge threat that the only way for man to survive was to drive them deep into the mountains…where they wait still.. for their?

T
WENTY
W
INTERS
A
GO
:

Night One

I
t had been about two winters since the great battle at Heshuezo. Since then Mabruk and Tobias had become the greatest of friends. At their own separate villages they both had growing families. Mabruk was married to the most beautiful woman at his village; together they had a son, Belen Alexandros. Tobias, who was now the centaur king, also his own son who was a season younger than Mabruk’s son, a handsome young centaur named Raphael. For two years every summer for one month, Mabruk and Tobias traveled around the countryside but never venturing too far from home, just in case they would have to rush back. Mabruk traveled wearing dark grey tights with a baggy unbuttoned black shirt, dark boots, and his sword case strapped to his back; his grandfather’s sword safely placed in it. Tobias wore a dark brown leathery armor vest that covered his chest; the vest had a beige trim, and he kept his sword strapped to his side.

This particular summer the two decided to visit the small village of Obunvi—rumors had been circulating about vicious demons that lived in the hillside and mountains, hunting and killing the villagers. Together they traveled down the rocky dirt road that had the fullest forest on each side; they traveled mostly during the day, but on this day they decided to continue on at night. As the sun went down, an eerie fog began to roll in from the mountains. The young warriors quickened their pace as the fog circulated around them. Strange mumbling voices and rustling spilled out of the forest; snapping twigs echoed throughout the darkness. Mabruk felt the decision to carry on at night was a terrible idea. Traveling as fast as their feet would go, with the only source of light being one torch…they began to hear foot steps behind them—low, animal-like footsteps that began to get louder and closer. The dirt road could not be any longer at this point. Tobias and Mabruk were not terribly frightened, but alone at night on a dirt road that seemed like an eternity to cross was not at all what they would wish for. Louder and closer the steps grew, until they soon felt the cold breath of death hissing down their necks.

Mabruk drew his sword. “Show yourself coward!” He cried, but there was nothing…only fog.

“Mabruk my friend,” Tobias said, pointing toward the trees ahead of them. “Look around…it is everywhere…” Tobias said while pointing toward the trees ahead of them.

Long cloves of garlic hung from the bark of the trees. Some were hung from long thin silver posts plunged into the ground. A wild confusion spread over them when they realized that not even the fog ventured past the garlic and silver. Once they passed the silver and garlic the road became calm and tranquil; in no time after that they reached the village.

The small village was like any other. About thirteen small wooden homes lined up in two straight lines going all the way down. The village had about six or seven nicely grown trees scattered near certain homes and a well for drinking water built in the center.

Mabruk and Tobias searched for the village tavern to have a quick drink. The tavern was located at the far end of the village near a small path that led up to the mountains. Once they found the tavern they entered quickly. Although late, the tavern had about ten or twelve villagers. The tavern was wide and square; the lighting was kept dark, with only four dimly lit torches. The villagers sat huddled together in the middle of the tavern, drinking at the large wooden polygon table.

“You are brave travelers,” the tavern keeper said while playing with his messy grey beard.

“More like foolish if you ask me,” the red-haired innkeeper replied.

Tobias gave the innkeeper a look of annoyance. “Well, no one asked you, friend,” he said sternly. “Now, what does he speak of?”

The tavern keeper slowly looked over to the people who sat around the table then turned to Tobias with a most frightful look in his eyes.

“Well stranger, the thing is our forests are haunted by vampires,” he answered.

Throughout the seasons the villagers had been plagued by what they believed to be vampires. Villagers would go missing, but never too many at once. This season alone, three villagers met a most horrifying death. First was the village baker—he had chased his escaping horse down the road and failed to make it back before sunset. The second was the village dressmaker—she was found in the early dawn hours outside of her home by the innkeeper; till this day not a soul knows how she was caught by the monsters. Last, the village weapon maker, who had planned an assault against the vampires. He had made several weapons of pure silver, and he preached to the villagers to not be afraid and to stand up for themselves…but three nights prior to the arrival of Mabruk and Tobias, he too, had been taken—butchered and left in the center of the village for all to see. The weapons he constructed were now just sitting in his old weapon shed.

Mabruk rolled his eyes at Tobias.
Oh my goodness,
he thought to himself,
of all the villages to arrive at they had to stumble on this crazy one,

“Vampires? You believe vampires are roaming your forests?” Mabruk asked sarcastically, but the villagers all had a cold look of fear on their faces.

“Yes, vampires. They hunt in our forest killing any who venture out,” the tavern keeper said.

Tobias gave a most uncomfortable smile. “Well…we are looking for the inn. Can someone here guide us there?”

The innkeeper finished his drink and approached them. “I am the innkeeper. I was just heading back. Follow me.”

This short red-headed portly rounded fellow had a bulbous nose, wild curly red hair, and stiff moustache with a curl at both ends. He bade his friend’s goodnight and stepped outside first but before stepping out fully he poked his head outside to make sure it was safe.

Making their way to the inn, Mabruk and Tobias noticed that many of the homes had long silver posts attached to the front doors—except for the tavern keeper’s; instead, he had painted on his tavern door a large red circle, and in the circle was an upside-down triangle.

Once they had the inn in sight, the round innkeeper relaxed. The inn was high with four floors and built straight up, from both stone and wood. The inn appeared poorly constructed and had a humble feeling to it inside. It was not decorated; the inn had a few wooden chairs, one old couch, and a dark rug in the main entrance. The innkeeper had one small lantern on the long dark wooded desk that he kept burning low. Mabruk stepped into the inn with ease; Tobias, on the other hand, had some trouble entering. He had to crouch.

“Do not break anything, centaur,” the innkeeper said in a snobby voice. Tobias glanced at the Inn Keeper wondering what his problem was, but he would not cause a fight—but if he wanted to, he could break the innkeeper in half.

Later that night Mabruk and Tobias rested in their cramped room, which had two windows, one facing the center of the village, and the other facing the mountains on the opposite side. The room had one fireplace and two beds. Mabruk lit candles. Tobias had trouble moving around the room—he was a bit too large for its size. The two beds stood side by side, which was great for when they sat facing each other for a conversation. Even though Tobias could not sleep on an actual bed, it did not stop him from resting on one every now and then. Centaurs, like horses, sleep standing up.

“What do you make of this nonsense of vampires?” Mabruk asked

“I am not too sure, but the locals seem very much to believe their woods have vampires,” Tobias answered as he worked on starting a fire.

“Well, I for one do not believe in their craziness. Vampires do not exist.” Mabruk peered out the window that faced the mountains. “Why is it so cold out? It is summer, after all.”

“My friend, not too long ago you said the same about lycans, and you fought besides hundreds. All I can really say is that this smell of garlic is much annoying. And to answer your other question: the cold winds of the mountains sometimes travel down.”

Downstairs the innkeeper had been gathering his things to bring up to his own personal room when a strange crackle outside caught his attention. He put his belongings down, opened the front door of the inn, and took three steps outside. The fog had made its way into the village; cold sweat ran down his back. He nervously fiddled with his hands as he slowly began to step back into the inn. From behind a presence formed that sent the innkeeper running forward. The fog hovered all around him…slowly, after a brief moment shapes began to step out, and the innkeeper stood with his eyes shut tightly frozen with fear.

“Do
not be afraid…”
a voice hissed peacefully in his ear
“It will all be over soon…”

“Pl…pl…please, no…” The Inn keeper managed to say finally. He shook uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh…
” The voice whispered in a peaceful manner.

The innkeeper with all his might tried to reach the inn, but a most powerful force sent him flying to the ground hard. He landed on his back with a thud and stared upwards as the foggy mist surrounded him. A figure drifted out of the fog and covered the innkeeper’s mouth so he could not scream. The figure gently caressed the innkeeper’s face before ripping into his neck, devouring him.

Night Two

The morning sun had been covered with the most sinister of clouds; the gloomy village reeked with despair. Men gathered in the center of the village.

“What could have done this…?”

“What do you think?” The tavern keeper asked. “It was…them, the monsters from the woods.”

Mabruk and Tobias made their way to the crowd. The innkeeper lay dead on the ground; his throat ripped out, and his limbs were covered in human-like bite marks. His blood had been drained completely—not even a drop spilled onto the ground and he had the most devastating look of horror had frozen onto his face. The crowd, quivered with fear— everyone spoke over each other, blaming one another for his death.

Mabruk stepped forward. “Enough!” his booming voice echoed throughout the village. “Blaming one another will not solve this problem. Now what did this?”

“Stranger, we have already told you…vampires are to blame,” said the tavern keeper.

More ghost stories,
Mabruk thought to himself. But to ease the minds of all the villagers, he played along as if he believed in their superstition.