Peter Koevari - Prophecies Awakening

It was nearing nightfall and the familiar chirping of birds to welcome the moon had been silenced. The walls darkened to a shadowy grey with the dimming of the sun. A storm gathered on the horizon, erupting in the distance. As lightning crashed into the earth, a gale of wind was blowing its ominous clouds inexorably in the direction of Greenhaven.

The sounds of laughter, music and drinking were heard from the great city’s many taverns. In many respects, the city came alive at night, and the many food stalls and street entertainers made for a relaxing evening. From the clouds above, it was as if Greenhaven were a swarm of yellow-lit fireflies, interspersed with occasional red embers signaling the brothels of the city.

Arman’s royal bedchambers were built inside the largest of the city’s turrets, and from this one spacious room’s balcony he could oversee Greenhaven and the surrounding lands in any direction that he pleased. He stared into the darkness, the lights twinkling in the reflection in his eyes, and he appeared more like a ghost than a man.

Andrielle was puzzled by the banishment of Vartan, as she had never known him to deceive his king. The queen knew that something was wrong, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Her footsteps almost silent with her approach, she spoke softly from behind the king. “Arman, my love, what happened today? I am worried about you. Vartan had no reason to lie to you. He was obviously hurt by the bandits he fought off to protect our daughter. I fear you may have left yourself unguarded without him nearby.” She laid a soft hand on his arm. “Are you certain beyond all doubt that the right decision was made today to banish him?”

He turned to lay a gentle kiss on her lips and took her body so tightly in his arms that he could feel her heartbeat pound against his chest. He looked her deep in the eyes. “Yes, of course I am certain. You never need to fear my judgement, for there is nothing in this life that I do without good reason. No matter what may happen to us, I want you to know that I love you dearly. But if anything were to happen to either of us, then the others would never be safe in Greenhaven.” Arman breathed in to let out a heavy sigh. “I put an escape plan in place with the guards long ago. Promise me that you will flee Greenhaven if the need arises. I couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to you."

The king continued to stare into her eyes, desperately searching for an answer within.

“Arman, why do you speak of this? What's wrong?” she asked, her furrowed brow revealing her concern.

The king looked away from her gaze and his eyes danced around the floor as he answered with a strained voice. “I have to consider all possibilities, and to protect our family. I just need to know that you would be safe, as I would never take an attack on any of us lightly. Just promise me, Andrielle- please allow me this simple request."

“Of course, Arman. I give you my word,” she replied softly.

He smiled, relaxed his shoulders, and turned back to the view of the impending storm on the horizon, which swiftly gained ground like a charging stallion. It was as if some force dragged the storm forward at an unusually rapid pace.

“I cannot recall much of earlier events today, and I grow tired. I may be falling ill, as it feels as if a cloud fills my mind when I try to remember what happened in the throne room. Tomorrow I shall seek a healer. For today, I suggest you enjoy a hot bath for the evening, and I shall eagerly await your return. I need some time alone to regain my thoughts.”

“As you wish, my love,” she replied. She suddenly realised she had been digging her fingernails into her palm and thought, Maybe he's right about that bath.

She walked out of the door to the arm of a servant who waited to escort her to the bathing chambers. Arman waited patiently until he could no longer hear the sounds of footsteps down the tower’s stairs, and he gazed further into the horizon. The flashes of lightning were soon followed by loud, growling rumbles. With another flash, he swore he saw dark eyes in the clouds staring back at him. But with the next, they were gone.

Arman shook his head in confusion and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I really must be losing my mind,” he whispered to himself. The cool, moist breeze whipped past his face, and his long hair fluttered behind his head. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then reopened them with a determined gaze.

Arman spoke loudly and firmly into the night. “I know you are there. Do you really consider me a fool who would ignore a warning from my most trusted knight? You know so little and yet you act as if you have it all figured out. I know what you seek to gain, but you should know this, young prince-that you will need to cross swords to take it from me! This day has been playing on my mind for many years now.” He wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt of his gleaming sword, his stance holding strongly in the winds. “I don’t want to live my life in the fear of what daggers may be pushed into my back, or spend every waking moment looking over my shoulder. Do you even have the guts to face me? Or did I create nothing more than a cowardly, spoiled brat?”

He held his sword firm for a few moments, the sounds of wind and rumbles in the distance his only answer.

Suddenly a too familiar voice cut through the cold air. “You knew I would wait here? I should have given you more credit, Father. You believed Vartan and banished him? Why would you do that? Never mind as you did me a favour by taking him out of the picture and it just further proves you are weak and unfit to rule. You should know that nothing you say to me will change the fact that you will die here tonight. Greenhaven will be mine, and a new age will begin. I will rule the city of Greenhaven as their new king!”

The prince walked a few steps around the turret’s balcony, his sword already drawn and held by his side. By now, the storm had barrelled down the mountainside and was only moments away from inundating an unprepared Greenhaven. Arman's face hardened as he turned purposefully to face Derian and slowly drew his sword from its scabbard. Its hilt glistened as the moonlight reflected off the diamonds embedded in its surface. "If you even have a shred of my courage inside you, stop wasting my time."

The prince screamed as he charged at his father and attacked him wildly with his sword. Each thrust was blocked solidly and effortlessly by his father’s blade. The sheer force of the attack pushed Arman back around the tower balcony as sparks flew angrily into the air between them, neither sword finding flesh. Momentarily distanced, they both stared with hatred and determination into each other’s eyes. Arman spat at the ground between them. "What did you think would happen? Did you expect me to just give up?"

Derian stared silently, not moving a muscle.

As though it had angered the gods, Greenhaven was suddenly engulfed by the storm. Sharp crashes of thunder and vicious arcs of lightning erupted all around the city as its people ran to shelter. Sounds of panic rose around them. Water fell heavily from the skies and their skins were blasted with tiny shards of ice, and the clouds blotted out the moon, casting the city into darkness.

A flash of lightning revealed Derian’s second attack as he sprang off the turret wall to bring his sword plummeting down. Arman dropped to one knee, held his blade flat with two hands and thrust upwards to deflect the blow. Derian was sent reeling. As both men neared exhaustion, a bolt of lightning struck the wall between them and knocked them roughly onto their backs.

“Did you really think it would be that easy to just take the throne? You stupid child!” Arman cried.