26. Verbal War

“Welcome Prince Zimon”, the crowd from the Urbas Society cheered and applauded as a much younger Zimon of fifteen entered the Great Hall. Zimon smiled heartily as his parents, Alen and Beatriz waited by their thrones. Alen was short in stature, oval faced with sparsely populated grey hair on his chin. He had thick brows and light bluish eyes. His nose was crooked. Donned by a black robe of satin and a golden crown, his attire befitted his royalty. Beatriz, her humble and polite nature, stood to greet his son. One would not call her attractive by looks, yet she was labelled by her kin as a beautiful woman. That was mostly due to her kind nature, her political entity and a person of control and power. Her smile was full of grace, much like Zimon’s. Her hair was hidden under a gold netted scarf that was knotted in the fashion of a turban. Her exquisite gown in red was heavily studded by jewelleries from top to bottom. The hall, decorated from floor to ceiling was added by the joy of cheering men and women. Alen walked down the throne stage and placed his hands on Zimon’s shoulder and said, “Congrats, son! You have passed the first stage of magic arts.”

Before Zimon could react, a man in his late forties walked up besides Alen.

“Master!”, Zimon exclaimed when he saw his teacher, Ronald Sunshiller beaming at him. Ronald was tall and plum. His large round face bore a large moustache curled up by the sides, under which his thin upper lip was hidden. A short stub scattered around his lower jaw. He had thin eyes and a sharp nose and short wavy black hair. He was adorned in clothes made from rare blue silk so fine that it would have cost a commoner a cat’s weight in gold. He held a silver staff the height of his shoulder.

“Although, the course is of ten years,”, Ronald said aloud, “you have completed it two years prior.”

“Really?”, Zimon gaped.

“Nonetheless, you have been declared a magician!”, Ronald announced. A round of applause followed after the announcement. Zimon waited for the claps to settle, “But... how?”

Ronald dropped his hand in the large pocket of his wizard robe. He pulled out a shiny white wand and handed it over to Zimon.

“Look! The colour has changed from brown to white on its own and the shape from a stick to a polished long rod.”, Ronald described, “And it implies the signs of a magician.”

Zimon observed excitingly. Alen turned to Ronald, “Sunshiller, my friend, you have proved yourself as the best master.”

Ronald shook his head laughing it off, “No your majesty, it’s the talented lad of yours... It’s his hard work and the thirst to become a wizard.” He raised his staff high and a golden flame ignited on the top of it. He said, “All praise to Prince William Zimon.”

Zimon’s heart leaped and he touched the tip of his wand to his chest and murmured under his tone, “Thank you!”

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“Welcome son! Look who is waiting for you.”, Beatriz said.

Zimon had run speeding all the way from the garden to his parent’s bedroom. It was the late fall of the year in which Zimon was declared a magician. There were three maids in the bedroom. Alen stood besides the queen, smiling and happy. His mother was resting in an arm chair.

Zimon was then distracted by the odd congregation of the maids in the corner of the room. He walked up to the scene and found a baby cot surrounded by the maids. Zimon stared at the infant sleeping in the cot. Zimon gaped at the baby, “My sister?”

Beatriz laughed, “No dear... it’s a boy.”

“Oh...”, Zimon scratched his head. He was too excited and at the same time felt a bit uneasy. He had been living alone for the past fifteen years. The idea of being in company with a brother seemed a bit strange to him. One of the maids picked up the baby and carefully placed in Zimon’s crossed arms. Zimon suddenly felt so alive and wonderful as he gazed down at the yawning little face. The eyes were closed with almost no brows above them. The nose was so tiny; Zimon wondered how the baby would breath. His tiny open mouth gave an insight of his toothless jaw. No neck was visible on the distended torso, which was wrapped by a tiny sheet of wool. The legs were hidden inside the sheet but his hands swung up and down uncontrollably. Zimon felt as if he was holding a light weight long watermelon judging from his size.

“So... what is your name brother?”, Zimon whispered.

“Oh...”, Alen answered, “We shall call him Perth.”

Zimon gave a light scowl, “I don’t like that name!”

“Then is there a name that you suggest?”, his mother asked.

“Something great and extraordinary like... super-okamboz!”

“What?”, both the parents shouted.

“Naah... just joking.”, Zimon snorted and then smiled, “We’ll make a good pair.”

Suddenly Perth opened his eyes and started crying.

“Milk time!”, a maid said and snatched the child from Zimon’s arms.

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Eighteen years old Zimon with dark long hair and a stub, was sprinting his way into the dark lanes of the Brimble Society. Suddenly a hand stretched out from around the corner and pulled him in, hitting his back against the wall with a thud.

“Welcome... lazy butt!”, a boy of around the same age as Zimon’s said. His eyes were narrow, covered on top with thick eyelashes. His long oval face was covered with black mud.

“CRYPUS!”, Zimon shouted, “That hurts! Couldn’t you be more considerate and just call out my name?”

Crevol was not listening, “What took you so long?”

“O’ C’mon... you know how the guards act... one of them spotted me and I had to slow them down by a spell. I made his path slippery and he landed straight on his face... poor fellow. This alerted other gurads and eventually my father. Now you also know my father... he does not want me to wander in this part of the city. More interestingly, I have sneaked out skipping my sessions with Master Ronald. So it does take a while to sort such things out. Not like you... just stand and sulk around all the time!”

Crevol grinned, “Here, have this banana. I also skipped dad’s work. So we can’t stay around here. He’d already be searching for me.”

“Crypus, is that you?”, a voice came from behind the closest cottage.

“Dad!”, Crevol squeaked, “Run!”

“Where?”

“How about the pool of River Keto...”

“Alright!”

A few moments later they found themselves lying around over green grass watching a huge waterfall of the River Keto falling into a low land. The water would occasionally splash over their faces bringing a soothing fresh fragrance of water.

“What’s the use of your magic when you can’t fly and disappear.”, Crevol said.

“You shall always remain a fool. You just don’t understand the importance of the powers of a wizard or a magician.”, Zimon replied lazily.

“You know it’s not my cup of tea and anyway I’m no fool. I’m wiser than you in many ways.”

“Misconception my friend... you’ve got it all wrong in your head.”

“Okay let’s prove it then,”, Crevol grinned, “I’ll ask you a question. Let’s see... Yeah... Where does a person go after he dies?”

Zimon pulled his own hair, “What a lame question, Crypus. He’d possibly go to the heaven.”

“Nope... you lost! He’ll go to the grave!”, Crevol smirked.

Zimon leapt to get his hands on Crevol’s neck. Crevol shook him away and escaped the attack.

Zimon pulled out his wand.

“You can’t use that on me!”, Crevol screamed, his eyes wide.

“Oh, yes I can!”, this time Zimon gave the smirk.

Crevol found himself weeping like a girl as the prince shot white beams of light near his feet, for rest of the evening.

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The pungent smell of the vineyard trickled his nostrils. He squeezed and rubbed his nose with his palm.

“William...”

“Huh?”, Zimon pulled away his hand from the nose and looked up at his father who was gazing up the vine climber.

“How well maintained these farms are, isn’t it?”, Alen acknowledged.

“Very true.”, Zimon nodded. He was holding a semi-staff which was longer than the wand it had been once. Its height reached up to his belly now. Zimon and his father had come for a stroll in the farms of Legendia. It was early in the morning; In fact, the sun had just risen.

“Every part of this city is well maintained, William. I never let any sort of lacking befall on Legendia... not even in the days of war.”, Alen said in a bold voice.

Zimon quietly paid attention to his father. They climbed the spiral wooden stairs of the tall light house adjacent to the vineyard. The splashing sounds of waterfall from the River Keto could be distantly heard. The last step led into a narrow porch. The wind gently whistled into the ears. Zimon gazed down and realized how high he was standing right now when he realized the dog he spotted was a grazing cow.

“I looked after Legendia like it was my own child.”, Alen spoke, “But...”

Zimon waited as he stared at his father.

“...on the other hand, I failed to utilize my potential of providing complete love to Perth.”, Alen’s voice sounded low and weak.

“It’s not your fault, father.”

Alen sighed and looked down, “It’s been five years since your mother has passed away. Perth has been disturbed ever since. I can never fill the love of a mother in his heart. He is small, William... naive.”

“I know.”, Zimon responded calmly.

“I have also become too old, William. There is a feeling... it doesn’t really bother me... but... I can’t describe it.”

Zimon searched for words in his father’s eyes. He waited.

“I have an intuition. My time is up.”, Alen said. There was an uneasy silence and the two did not look at each other for a while. Zimon spoke, “So the feeling is that of fear... fear of losing the throne and handing it into incapable hands... isn’t it?”

“No! Please son...”, Alen responded immediately, “You’ve got it all wrong always. I have full faith in you. Your mother always used to say, ‘William’s going to be a very good king.’”

“And you father?”, Zimon asked politely, “What would you reply to mother?”

Alen shook his head and took a deep breath, “Look William, if it’s trust that you think I don’t have in you, let me make this very clear. I know what’s storming in your mind. It’s not that I love Perth more than you.”

“You’ve always neglected me ever since he was born as if I didn’t exist.”, Zimon added calmly.

“Perth was born after ages in our family, bringing the same glow of happiness like you brought the day you were born. I accept that there was more attachment for him, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you my child. You are the gem of Legendia. Believe me... a wizard like your forefathers. You are the pride of my eyes.

“But yes... you are partly true. I fear, but not because you are my successor. It is because I don’t feel right about myself. You see... we lavish kings always greed for more fame, power and wealth. It is in our blood. And now when I know I won’t live long enough to see both of you grow older, I’m too dejected at parting from this world. But that is how I have always been. Always remember son... never let greed come in your path, may it be for strength, power or love, lest you would opt for evil ways.”

Zimon sighed, “I am sorry. Forgive me if I was rude in my speech. My heart exploded all the feelings chained within. I had to spit them out to feel better.”

“No, you did the right thing. It was my mistake. I should have known how it would mentally affect you when I used all my spare time for Perth. But look now what he has become... he does not respect me anymore after all the love I gave to him. But you... you always cared and respected me unconditionally. Strange life it is, isn’t it...”, he placed a hand on Zimon’s shoulder, “William... he’s your responsibility now... he and this city. I have full trust in you that you will look after your brother and Legendia.”

“Don’t worry father. I will never let any harm befall on either of them. I give my word.”, Zimon assured with his head high.

Alen smiled, “You know what I used to reply when Beatriz said you were a very good king?”

Zimon waited. Alen continued, “I would say you’d be the greatest king.”

Zimon grinned like a child, “Thanks father.”

“You’re welcome son!”

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The voice of the Dark Lord echoed a thousand times into the ears of the warriors. Zimon acknowledged the Dark Lord’s welcome for the first time in his life. In those very few silent moments Zimon realised his importance to the world, no matter what the occasion was, he was always welcomed on every major turn of his life.

A storm of cold wind steered across the valley for a short time.

And There They Stood

In the Valley of Dark Dume

Facing each other

The Two Legendary Contenders

Finally the Dark Lord spoke, “I must say I’m quite impressed by your boldness. You have walked into the hell right on your own.”

Zimon was still silent. Marco’s worries grew heavily on his face. His heart beats were never this faster. The Dark Lord shook his head, “Have you really come to take me down with these little bugs of yours? Look above Zimon! Look behind you... look at the front... you are surrounded! You are finished!”, the Dark Lord’s voice was heavy, grumbling with excitement, “Do you expect parley?”

Broken giggles were distantly heard which died out quickly. Zimon stood still, leaning over his staff in the front, his head low and eyes dull with tiredness.

The Dark Lord continued, “But yes, you have made things easier for me. We were about to set out for you, nevertheless. Look how full and ready my warriors are... Tell me Zimon”, the Dark Lord ducked low to level with Zimon’s eyes, “Where’s the treasure?” His voice dropped to a whisper at this question. “What did you think? You could fool me so easily and hide your secret from me. How far could you run Zimon? This world is too small for me. Do you know that I have been to the outer world? There is so much to conquer. This world is just a worm’s nest. There is a larger world out there. Join hands with me Zimon. I will spare you the misery of watching your people die and I will forgive your past.”

“In the name of Legendia...”, Zimon spoke atlast, “I swear with all my might and power, you shall never find the treasure.”

A deadly wind blew across the valley amidst the heavy silence. The Dark Lord closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, “Then...why...are...you...here?”, he said with every word stressed.

“Elezabor, you have ruined yourself into nothing but masses of evil and greed. You are a stubborn cynic who fears to accept that what you achieved is not power but shame... and that keeps you haunting... pulling you deeper into greed for more power! There has been many who sacrificed their lives for your nuisance violence. Blood and blood pours every now and then just because of you! And this all... comes to an end today... Once and for all!”

The Dark Lord raised his head high and looked up into the sky and let a-what seemed like a huge sigh. He hissed sharply, “Stop talking and kill me!”

He moved one step closer to Zimon, “I’d like to see how you succeed in killing me.”

Zimon then moved one more step closer. They were just a step apart from each other now. Zimon said, “All these years... I hoped that you might change your mind one day but alas... As the saying goes, Dark Lords once originate, plunge into darkness forever.”

“Your time’s up!”, the Dark Lord moved back, “I have to ask you to surrender yourself. For the last time... do you obey me?”

Zimon did not respond. The Dark Lord raised his iron staff high above his head pointing to the tens of thousands of archers jammed up on the plateaus. The archers raised their arrows pointing towards the dark clouds. The very next moment, the arrows filled the sky and came hurling down at the Legendians. No place to dodge the arrows, Zimon commenced his move in the nick of time.

“RHINZHOWF!”, roared Zimon and slammed his staff on the ground. A vast envelope of strong blinding intensity, red coloured light, engulfed the whole army of Legendia and the Dark Lord beneath it. The speeding arrows struck on the red coloured shield above the Legendians. The clashing metallic noise of the arrows grew every moment as Zimon struggled to keep up with the counter attack. He screamed louder as he tried to maintain his defence with more arrows pouring in. Zimon started to tremble, “I can’t hold for long...”, Marco heard him say and watched the arrows shoot through the protection helplessly.

The Dark Lord raised his hand and the screeching sounds of arrows died away. Zimon released his spell with a groan. The red light disappeared allowing the broken thousands of arrows to fall over Legendians. They covered their heads with shields as the dead arrows fell. Zimon was panting hardly. Marco could do nothing but gaze at him.

“Impressive!”, the Dark Lord praised, “Now that’s a lot of energy for an old man. I wonder if you could resist the next attack too...”

Marco knew the next one won’t sustain longer.

“But I loved the red colour light.”, Dark Lord said amusingly, “Mine comes green. Red must be due to the anger, perhaps.”

Zimon did not react to the Dark Lord’s pointless statement. He instead said, “What good has it bought to you? Were you ever less loved? What life are you living now? Why would anybody opt for this inspite of all the love you got? Tell me a single thing you did not have!”. Zimon blurted the last sentence in desperation.

“I didn’t have the throne!”, the Dark Lord bellowed in rage. “That was my throne!”

Zimon lowered his head in dismay, “How do I explain?”

“I require no explanation. Good luck William!”. He raised the iron staff again...

Just when the archers aimed for the sky, the plateaus on either side started to tremble. Huge number of warriors started to fall off the mountains. Twenty huge rhinos were charging across the plateau, each on both the plateaus. Everyone froze as the warriors on the top hurled up in mid air and fell screaming down into the valley.

Zimon’s face lightened up.

“Thank you... Yulisa!”