28. The Final Judgement

Blood gushed up in his veins in the temple reddening his face. He grasped the knife with his right hand. His staff was fallen on the ground. The Dark Lord’s face stooped lower to look at Zimon’s eyes; the knife still gored in his chest.

“Why would you... go ... this ...far?”, the Dark Lord almost shrieked.

Marco couldn’t hear what Zimon replied but he could see Zimon’s lips moving in his reply to the Dark Lord.

“No...”, the Dark Lord gasped.

The dark clouds near the castle were disappearing and fresh air swept across the valley. The Dark Lord sank lower onto the ground shrieking in a high pitched moan. His scream could still be heard for the next few years; so terrifying and sorrowful it was. The scream, wail of a poverty stricken dying beggar, a cry of an injured soul wherein lies deep hidden sorrows like none felt before. His body shivered relentlessly and then froze. His hands fell on the dust, his metal glove clinging and then the dragon faced staff cracked and shattered to pieces.

Zimon kept falling down when a hand reached out for him and steadily bought his body down with his head resting on a lap. Zimon recognized it was Marco. Marco looked in dismay, speechless. Zimon smiled heartily.

“How...?”, Marco shook his head.

“We’ve won!”, Zimon said, his voice hoarse and weak.

“We’ve got to treat you.”, Marco said hastily, “Yulisa... call YULISA!”

Zimon held Marco’s arm in a loose grip, “It’s too late... my time has... co..” and his hand dropped.

Grozzald suddenly jumped in out of nowhere. Yulisa hurried down to Zimon. Her skin was normal again like before. She was almost naked. No burns were visible beneath her torn clothes. “What happened?”, she said touching Zimon’s pulses.

“Please... please do something...”, Marco pleaded, his body stiff.

Yulisa placed her hand on Zimon’s chest and removed the knife from there. She quickly began mumbling some words which Marco couldn’t understand. Everyone gathered around the wizard lying on the ground, awestruck at the sight. The foe kneeled down on the ground with hands on their heads and bowed on the ground submitting themselves to the wizard who defeated the Dark Lord. The giant birds perched all around the mounting staring down at the dead king. The beasts waited silently. Marco prayed and prayed and soon tears flooded his eyes. Suddenly, Yulisa’s hands jerked back. Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp. Marco waited for an explanation not wanting to know the truth though. A sudden flash of light shot up from Zimon’s body; a remarkable radiant white light. Marco blinded by the light, jerked back, freeing Zimon’s head from over his lap. He tore his eyes open in the intense light and he could easily tell that Fred’s light was nothing like this one; this was far more superior to anything Marco had ever witnessed in his life. The light shot high up in the sky like a mighty force. It seemed like a huge, tall pillar stood between the sky and the land.

“O’ Mighty William Zimon.”, Yulisa cried.

Then there was no light. Just a peaceful, calm sleeping face of the king, his closed eyes seemed so gracious, his beard shining with pride. Marco crawled up to Zimon. He controlled his tears and swore not to cry. He could hear Yulisa weeping loudly. Marco hugged Zimon tight and slipped his hand into Zimon’s pockets and fished out the book and quickly hid it beneath his armour. He heard Zimon speaking in the back of his head, ‘Incase we win, take this book from me after the battle...’. He let go of him and glanced at the shattered broken staff of Zimon scattered near his head. He heard Marvelo weeping behind him. Pulling himself together, he stood up and faced his army men and all the men of Dark Dume. He strengthened the grip of his sword and bellowed on top of his voice, “LONG LIVE LEGENDIA!”

The voice echoed across the valley a number of times followed by a thousand shouts of victory.

“O’ men of Dark Dume... this is reality.”, he pointed at the black cloth of the Dark Lord, underneath which the body seemed to evaporate. “Has it not occurred to you that your Dark Lord has been deluding you towards darkness?... and here you stand bearing the consequences...”

Marco’s voice echoed the valley, carried forward by the winds, “I ask you, O’ men of Dark Dume.”, Marco shouted, “Do you submit yourselves to the service of Legendia?”

An instant reaction followed, “AAYE!” “YES”. They pleaded for mercy and wept bitterly.

“Then you shall serve in the prison of Elgenim until my command!”

Marco turned to Marvelo, “Order each section of our men to divide and watch the captives. How many are they?”

Marvelo gazed at the innumerable dead bodies scattered across the land, “I’ll let you know in a moment.”

The men on top of the plateaus were asked to come down and congregate with the fellow mates in the valley. The chains of the captives were used to clasp their own hands. Legendians surrounded them on all sides. Peter and Marvelo jogged up to Marco, “Around forty five thousand men have been killed. That leaves around six thousand men alive.”

Marco nodded. “Have you found the horses?”

Peter nodded, “We might get hold of more of them while passing from Brignjo and Archaeo.”

“Give the horses to those injured amongst us and amongst the captives too. Who are capable enough shall walk on foot.”

Yulisa sat besides Zimon. Marco placed a hand on her shoulder, “My lady... we must proceed.” Pain smeared Marco’s heart as he looked at Zimon. He pulled himself away from there and walked towards the valleys entrance. The captives were asked to build a stretcher out of wood, for Zimon to peacefully rest upon. Once made, Marco heard four men lift the stretcher. Marco spread opened a cloth and filled it with shattered pieces of Zimon’s staff, tied a knot and slipped it in the wizard’s pocket. Peter walked silently besides Marco. He knew Peter was staring at him. But he was tired to speak; tired enough to believe that his mentor, his guide, his king, his father was dead.

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Three days later, they were out of the Dark Dume. The sky was plain blue and the air was fresh. The earth was relieving; as if it were reborn with the burial of bitter memories and the brith of a joyous future. The captives walked as ordered by Marco. Behind them walked Marco with a bunch of his men. Yulisa’s beasts prowled in the rear behind everyone. They were all heading to the reigns of Jahm Paths. The birds had already taken off the prior day to their home. Yulisa had said to Marco three days ago, “I wish to honour Zimon by accompanying you till Jahm Paths.” Marco admired this act of hers.

Zimon lay on the stretcher wrapped in a brown cloth, frozen by a spell cast by Yulisa. She said the spell ought to last until the brown cloth was removed from his body. Night arrived and they lit firelight at several places. Marco was getting inside his tent when he called Yulisa to join him. She said she rather preferred to stay by Zimon in the next tent. ‘She has a beautiful attitude’, Marco thought.

“Peter, care to join?”, Marco asked,

“Sure.”

The lantern was kept on a mat. The tent’s contents were all Zimon’s property. It was all luxuriously spread; the cushioned flooring, the cotton-puffed blankets, golden utensils with no food in it. Marco felt a sting in his heart as he thought, ‘How gracefully Zimon had neglected the luxuries of food and juices. He would rather stay on potions.’

“You want to say something?”, Marco asked.

Peter shrugged, “You know... No one understood what happened to Lord Zimon, did you?” This was the first time in three days that the two were speaking to each other.

Marco shook his head and pulled out the book from his armour, “But this might help.” Peter was startled; he had almost forgotten about it.

Marco flipped off to page number twenty one:

The forest is harmless for those who stay away from its borders. However, this is the last method anybody opts for.

3) The last method is the most extraordinary and the most cruel-some of all. This was discovered just ninety years ago when the fearsome Dark Lord ‘Bhoze’ prospered the evil on this land. Unaware of this method, people of Irasy accidently used this method in frustration and hatred which resulted in the unintended death of Bhoze. All they did was, they killed all the remaining relatives of the Dark Lord (in this case his parents and his brother). This resulted in a simultaneous death of the Dark Lord. Scholars put in their maximum efforts to understand that this was more than just a coincidence. Soon they understood that since a Dark Lord loses its flesh and blood in due course of learning dark magic, an unknown force connects his body to his immediate blood line. It could be either one of the relatives or all of them; it is not concrete. Thus, it was quoted that, ‘An actual murder’ by ‘force’ only, be it suicidal or external, of the immediate relatives of the Dark Lord (confining only to parents, siblings and children), will cause a certain death of the Dark Lord. If their deaths are natural, the Dark Lord survives off the souls in Chakuzlam. Though the theory is confusing, something’s are supposed to be blindly believed, because after all strange is magic.

Both Marco and Peter were mortified! Maroc’s mind was racing as the puzzles fell into places.

“He’s...they were brothers!”, Peter exclaimed.

Marco nodded gaping at the page of the book, “It all fits... the Dark Lord did not kill Zimon back there in the Salaha desert when he had a chance.”

Marco and Peter stared each other for a moment.

“Then Crevol knew about this... that’s why he was so curiously interrogating about the battle.”, Marco continued, “The book was hidden in his own school, he probably won’t miss a chance of reading it.”

“Does that have to do something with the Merlin Mirror?”

“OH! He must have seen the identity of the Elezabor, which is a forbidden act. He must have seen his true face.”

“So he didn’t know about Zimon and the Dark Lord’s brotherhood right?”

Marco sat back and tried to assess all that he knew, “Crevol must have seen Perth Zimon’s face in the mirror. He was his only brother as far as I know. No wonder they were not able to retrieve his body after the war and he was judged as dead. Remember I told you how Lord Zimon and Crevol had a quarrel the other night?”

Peter nodded slowly.

“He must have got mad at Lord Zimon for hiding this fact from him.”

“Some facts are better hidden.”, Peter remarked backing Zimon’s actions.

Marco threw a confused look at Peter, “They were best friends, right?” Marco shook his head, “I don’t get it... all these years Zimon kept this fact with himself only.” Marco stopped. He felt cheated too.

Peter smirked, “One bad mark killed all the goodness in him, right mate?”

Marco was surprised by this remark. He believed he was acting too selfish but he still couldn’t believe what he read. Peter continued to speak for Marco’s silence, “What’s his mistake if Perth chooses being on the wrong path?”

“I know that!”, Marco snapped back, “But he was somehow supporting his brother, wasn’t he? He could have killed himself long back, not that I want such a thing ever to happen... but he could have saved his men all the hassle and blood!” Marco clapped his hand, “Now I understand! He kept on talking about what the Dark Lord was deprived of. He kept on reminding him that he was always loved... that Elezabor was making a mistake despite all the love he had been given. Lord Zimon loved him, that’s why he kept calm all these years and when it came down to destruction of Legendia, he marched to Dark Dume with just a thousand people.”

Marco’s behaviour was harsh suddenly and Peter least liked it, “But we’ve won you fool...”, Peter snapped, “Don’t you see that he killed himself for saving the world?”

“Then why didn’t he do that before?”, Marco shouted back.

There was an awkward silence. They were both red and angry. Peter was shocked by what Marco had said. “Is this you...?”, Peter asked.

Marco gazed down, “The Dark Lord ruined my father’s life!”

“I understand...”, Peter sighed, “Think that way... your father’s reputation was ruined because he was allied with the Dark Lord. Same would happen to Lord Zimon, had people known that they were brothers. You supported your father even after knowing the truth, didn’t you?”

“What do you know about my father?”, Marco retorted, his voice raising.

“And what do you know of Lord Zimon’s past?”, Peter frowned.

Marco shut the argument. He took a deep breath and with remorse he said, “I am sorry... It’s just too many things happening at once.”

“You must have some rest.”, Peter said.

“No... I’m fine.”, Marco said, tossing the book aside. “Why did he have to kill himself anyway? We were already gaining. There was no way Elezabor could have won, with him and Yulisa joining hands together.”

“Lord Zimon trusted you Marco... he must have left things for you to sort out.”

Marco nodded. He remembered the night when he was called to his castle and his father’s identity was revealed and he was asked to become a successor to the throne. He was filled with guilt now that he spoke ill of Zimon.

“You know Peter... that night at River Tuks, I remember myself telling Zimon that I trusted him blindly... for I never questioned him why we were walking up to Dark Dume without safety.”

Peter shrugged, “Maybe he had already arranged with Yulisa for help...”

“Yes... he knew she would turn up for sure. He didn’t want to pressurize her. He wanted her to act on her own accord. He knew her well enough and purposely took the path through the Jahm Paths as she would be wary of the battle in Dark Dume. But that is not the point...”

“Then?”

“What I meant to say is that he believed more in me because somewhere in his heart he was disappointed in himself... and maybe ashamed that I trusted him more than myself. There must have been something that he wanted to tell me but couldn’t. He was in a great dilemma, I could tell.”

Marco lied down on his side and closed his eyes. He heard Peter walk out the tent without wishing him a good night; for it was not really a good night anymore.