Emperor of Legendia

The first rays of dawn reached the skies of Legendia. The city was still fast asleep after a worked up day.

Zimon was standing at the gates of the castle with a staff in his right hand. An armed soldier appeared on a galloping horse and stopped in front of Zimon.

“Everything set to go, Marlin?”, Zimon asked.

“Got the fastest of the horses from Hul, my lord.”, Marlin replied, “I have all that is necessary. I must leave now.”

“Good, make sure you know on whose sides they stand. If they have joined the Dark Lord, your two thousand men would be destroyed. You understand the seriousness of this task right?”

“Ofcourse, my lord.”

“And if that would be the case, by the time you come back, I’ll ensure I have another plan up my sleeve. Make haste. Twenty days at the most to reach Engeria. If they are no harm to us, break this stone.”, Zimon said, producing a glossy black tiny stone from underneath his robe pocket “This is called a twin stone. An identical stone remains with me, its twin that is. It will also break if your stone breaks. That will assure me to send your army through the Mounts of Crypto. You will wait for them in Irasy. Message for the same has already been sent to Olgreg. While the Dark Lord’s army passes through Gobbut to the Salaha desert, you will follow them in stealth. You will let them engage in the battle with us. And not long after we begin the battle, you will make your move and attack them by surprise. Everything clear?”, Zimon finished breathlessly.

“Absolutely, my lord! We will succeed, my lord, without doubt.”, he bowed low. While bowing, a glass bottle with a cork on its neck, almost slipped out of his pocket. Marlin grabbed it just in time and slipped it back quickly.

“Beer you shall not abandon even in such times, Marlin?”, Zimon remarked.

“Sorry my lord, but I can’t live without beer. But if you insist...”

“Aah alright, off you go!”, Zimon laughed and patted the rear of the horse.

Marlin’s horse flew away into the dust.

As Blabber snored in the Great Hall, Zimon climbed up the staircase of his castle leading to his bedroom. Zimon walked in the bedroom, closed the doors by waving his hand from a distance. He saw an open window on his side. Zimon mumbled some frantic words and the window panes turned foggy. Zimon’s staff produced a faint light. He closed up to a huge brown wooden wardrobe, the size of an elephant, and closed his eyes. He pointed his staff slightly towards the door of the wardrobe and said out aloud:

“Riboni Ribin, Firo si Firin, Abinda Legendia, Sibo Li Houn Treazores!”

The stone floor rumbled as the huge wardrobe started shaking. After a few moments the rumbling stopped. Slowly, the cupboard descended into the floor leaving a huge cave like hole to appear in front of Zimon. Zimon entered the hole. It was very dark even with the aid of the staff’s light. The wardrobe moved back to its original position, sealing the entrance again. After a couple of blinks, the cave lit up with an incredible source of brightness. Huge blazes of fire erupted from either sides and went down a long way. Zimon strode in haste until he reached a staircase descending spirally to another lower ground. The king climbed down to a place where a tunnel appeared distinctly. Just at the end of the staircase, a silver flying horse stood, gazing happily at the king.

“Aah! Zulfain, my old friend.”, Zimon hugged the horse by its neck and let out a heavy sigh of joy.

Zulfain jumped up and down in excitement and licked Zimon’s palm. His beautiful large wings spread out in joy. The silver skin shone and glittered mightily. His powerful wings and legs signified it as the king of all the horses.

“The dark times has arrived Zulfain, like I said before.”, Zimon said as he patted the horse. Zulfain neighed softly.

“I need to reach the treasure to get my weapons.”, Zimon sat on Zulfain, “Take me there as soon as you can.”

Zulfain kicked the ground with force and in no time he was flying over the ground in the tunnel. The horse flew a few feet high from the ground keeping itself in the centre of the tunnel space. The speed of the flying horse is an astonishing one. It can fly ten leagues in just a few moments, while men take a tenth of a day to cover the same distance. In a few more moments, they were out of the periphery of Legendia in the underground. Zimon screamed news from the past week into Zulfain’s ears, as they were flying at an incredible speed. He could barely see anything through the piercing air. He had to occasionally ask Zulfain to slow down to breath easily. After what seemed a reasonably long time on a flying horse, they halted covering around eight hundred and twenty leagues.

“Whew! I am getting old, my friend.”, Zimon said as he jumped down and straightened his back.

“Let’s do this quick.”, Zimon said looking towards yet another door, quiet smaller than the first entrance; hard metallic plain door with no handle.

“Come’on Jordur... not today. This is not where you are supposed to be. The entrance is supposed to be open!”, Zimon said, his voice raised bit more than usual.

There appeared two eyes on the door named Jordur and the voice came from the door, “Oh, Zimon! I’m in a mood to play!”. Its voice echoed like clashing of two metals. “I’m in a hurry Jordur! Let’s save your mood for next time. I’m telling you... don’t play these games with my successor! He’ll be new to all this.”

The two eyes widened, “Atlast! Tell me who that is. Tell me tell me tell me.”

Zimon sighed and gave a dull look at Zulfain, who was already losing its cool. “Marco Hymes.”, Zimon snapped.

“One riddle?”, the door said.

“Jord – !”

“What comes first and goes last?”, Jordur asked.

Zimon moaned. “Alright! What comes first and goes last... Is that even a riddle or you just made it up?”

Jordur giggled, “I don’t know.”

Zimon suddenly said out a loud, “A season?”

“You’ve got some brains, old man. Off you go.”, Jordur cried and disappeared.

A sudden brightness blinded Zimon and Zulfain. They entered into a vast hall of dusty ceiling supported by tall numerous pillars of rocks. It was ten times larger than the Great Castle. They took a left to reach a huge stone room. The smell was funny and pungent. Air was not supposed to be in abundance but it was the work of magic for the breeze and winds to blow in there.

The stone room was filled with a large amount of gold, silver and copper coins. The room was also filled with stacks of hill sized heaps of diamonds and pearls. Zimon conjured a bag from nowhere and waved his hand to the heaps of copper, silver, gold and diamonds. A handful of each flew into the bag on its own. Zimon placed the bag on Zulfain’s back and murmered, “Come.”

They moved to a beautiful small pond away from the stone room. A fountain stood in the middle of it. Beautiful different coloured fishes jumped at the happy sight of the king. They swirled around diving up into the air to honour the king. Zimon knelt near the pond’s end and drank some water from it, washed his face and wet his hair. He felt an instant refreshing energy. He turned to Zulfain and said, “Drink from the pond of magical water. It gives you strength and keeps your thirst away for a day.”

He conjured two thin bottles and filled it with water. “I’ll mix these with our reservoirs for the soldier’s fill. This will add to their strength.”

“Let’s head to the food chamber.”

Zulfain’s stomach lurched as they found themselves in a chamber full of variety of foods, bread heaps, Cocoa beans, potions, exotic fruits and vegetables, variety of beverages in barrels. “Have your fill of vegetables Zulfain, but remember to eat less. It is enough to provide energy for weeks.”, Zimon said.

In no time, his bag was packed with various eatables including leaves, wafers and fruits. He stocked some potions when he reached the potion row. Each bottle of potion read its title underneath. Zimon read a few; Healing potion, Energy potion, Sleep potion. After a while Zimon moved to a small table where a board read ‘Use it to heal your cuts and burns.’ Heaps of small cotton cloths were stacked on a nearby table. Zimon took a cloth and stretched it both ways and it kept on expanding the more he stretched. “The immortal cloth.”, Zimon said. “Enough eating Zulfain! You’ll be sick.”, he cried out aloud. Zulfain stamped his feet on the ground and made his way to Zimon.

They walked past some beautiful monuments and sculptures built in the vast open space. Soon there were some hundred stands, each one showcasing different weapons. Zimon walked up to a stand where a board read: The Sword of King Boerath Zimon, crafted in the woods of Jahm Paths, yielded by spells unknown to history. This sword is infamously known as Sword of Fear. It was made of brass and the hilt appeared as a striking resemblance to a wyvern’s head. Red crystals were embedded to imply eyes. Its pitted blade was carved with intertwined wyverns.

‘One of the finest swords I’ve ever seen’, Zimon said to himself. A variety of swords were placed in a row. Zimon walked up to a sword he had once carried long ago. It bore a few words on the blade: Used against dark magic. Zimon took it and covered it with its silver sheath placed besides it. The section of bows and arrows followed next. He stuffed some fire arrow shooters in his bag for particular archers. He moved to a long violet coloured table on what were placed fifty eight different coloured platinars. The perfectly round stones were quiet an interesting form of magic throughout the history. He approached to a blue glassy platinar which was kept besides a golden knife. Zimon picked up the stone and rotated it and the inscriptions read:

Slash me with a strike

With the golden knife

On the land, well above your jaw

I will shatter, all your foe

“The magic will work only at a height from the ground to slightly above the jaw and will be harmless to those who won’t be touching the ground.”, Zimon said to Zulfain, who in turn did not show the slightest interest in whatsoever. “Who am I even talking to in the first place!”, Zimon said shaking his head. He slipped the round glass in his bag.

On their way back, Zimon halted and beamed at a thick green rope neatly rolled up in a circle on the floor. “Now, Kamli, it’s me ofcourse. Why do you need to disguise yourself?”

The rope suddenly transformed into a fifteen feet long snake. Its thick face gazed up at Zimon. Kamli hissed gently and crawled up towards the king. “Sharp as ever, William. You always catch my presence.”, hissed the snake.

“There are no ropes supposed to be here, Kamli. I know this place inside out. Have you been enjoying anyways?”

“How can I enjoy here?”, Kamli said as she circled Zimon, “I have asked you a thousand times to take me with you.”

Zimon shook his head and replied, “Look at you! Not all men are like me. They’ll get scared at your sight.”

Kamli lowered her head in disappointment, “What about Blabber? You took him right?”

“Blabber is a chair, Kamli. In fact, you only said you want to guard this place for eternity.”

“There are no attacks in this place for hundreds of years.”

Zimon bent down and sat besides Kamli. Zulfain trotted the other direction. He always held a grudge against the snake. Zimon briefed her about the coming battle and about his successor. “Marco Hymes will be taking my place on my order.”

“But why worry about a successor when you can still reign the kingdom?”

“True, that a wizard doesn’t die of old age, but I do need rest my dear. I think after this battle, I’ll disappear into the wild and fulfil my hobbies. It’s sometimes too tiring, all this responsibility. And anyway there won’t remain a greater threat than Elezabor to Legendia. So I need to think of a successor after I leave.”

“Zimon, I have witnessed ages of empires and you were and will be the greatest of the rulers that I have seen in my entire life.”

Zimon laughed, “You are very modest Kamli. There is something I need to speak to you about.” Zimon spoke to Kamli for a long time; arguments backfiring from Kamli and explanations emerging from Zimon. After a while Kamli simply swayed his head up and down and said, “Understood.”

Zulfain neighed loudly in a distance. “Okay my dear, looks like someone’s getting jealous.”, Zimon said waving at Zulfain. “I should make haste. I need to walk to the staff checker.”

“Yes Zimon, come back soon.”

“Sure.”, Zimon said sadly.

The snake slithered away.

“One last work Zulfain,”, Zimon exclaimed, “I need to get my staff checked.”

They walked up for a while when they found themselves standing in front of a marble stoned Gargoyle.

“Welcome, my king.”, the Gargoyle grumbled. It was six feet high and the wings measured five feet each. It moved its bat like wings occasionally. It bore a demon’s face with two horns sprouting from its temples.

“Hi Gargs.”, Zimon said as he placed the staff in Gargoyle’s paws.

“Hmm..”, it spoke, “Asusual, very fine. Capable enough for a skilled hand’s magic. Nothing to fear... It’s in a good condition.”

“Thank you Gargs.”

Zimon adjusted the bag on Zulfain’s back. The horse was completely surrounded with loads and he was finding it difficult to spread out his wings. Somehow Zimon sat on him with the bags well tied to his body with ropes. Zulfain kicked off, slower this time. He flew gently to ensure all the bags are safely being delivered.

So far one thing was sure. The treasure lies nowhere beneath the castle. Only Zimon knew the truth that only the entrance lays in the Great Castle. Zimon remained silent all the way back through the silent tunnels. ‘Home sweet home’, Zimon thought as they reached the tunnel’s end.