The Realmsic Conquest: The Hero of Legend
The chase still felt like a dream when Kelm awoke the next morning. The air was frigid in the mountainous woods, and the ground had been most uncomfortable. Kelm massaged the crick in his neck as awareness slowly came to him. He glanced at Maebus and saw that he too had just awoken and was now rubbing the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. Across from them, the tall man had already prepared a breakfast consisting of berries and wild game he’d caught nearby.
“Morning,” Kelm said to the man.
“Morning,” he replied. His voice was less harsh and deep than the previous night.
Kelm was awestruck by his height. He was perhaps the tallest person he’d ever seen. A large laceration stretched across his face. Sitting awkwardly on a rock, he tended a small fire where he cooked the meat. The sensuous aroma of food seemed to snap Maebus to alertness. He stretched his legs forward and began massaging feeling back into them.
“How’re you feeling today?” Kelm asked his friend.
“I’ve been better,” Maebus replied.
Kelm gave a sideways smirk. “I ... suppose I should apologize for pushing you out of the window.”
“No need. I’m sure you did what you felt was best.” Maebus withheld a chuckle as he spoke.
“You should probably thank me then.”
“Actually, I should thank you,” Maebus said, directing his attention to the tall man at the fire.
“I only did my duty for the kingdom,” he shrugged.
“Oh, are you a Realmsic soldier?” Maebus asked.
“No, but I remain faithful to its King.”
Kelm’s gaze fixed on the man. Was that just a general comment? He then glanced towards Maebus who didn’t appear to have a reaction.
“I’m sure the King would be honored to have your loyalty,” Maebus said. He paced his words, obviously taking care not to give away too much.
“I’m glad you think so. If you were the King it would mean a lot.” The man flashed a mischievous smile and winked.
Kelm laughed out loud. Maebus couldn’t help but join him. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Normandy.” He bowed his head slightly. “As you slept, I noticed your royal Realmsic armor under your muddy robes.”
Maebus shook his hand. “Greetings. I suppose you already know my name is—”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Normandy interrupted before Maebus could finish. He stood up, thin and towering, and shook Kelm’s hand also.
“Please, help yourselves,” he pointed to the food. “There’s more than enough to go around.”
Kelm was impressed with the quantity, knowing personally just how hard it was to hunt in the northern region of the Realm.
“Are you from around here?” Kelm asked.
“Not originally, but lately I’ve meandered in these parts.”
That explains his cordiality. Most Northerners despised the kingdom and would have never helped them escape.
Normandy reached over the fire and tore off a piece of meat from the spit.
“For years, I’ve been a simple woodsman,” he said between chews. “But nowadays, I consider myself a bit of a rebel.”
“How so?” Maebus asked. He reached over and grabbed a piece of meat, the first he’d eaten in weeks.
Normandy’s brow tightened and his gaze seemed to focus on something in the distance. His expression turned solemn. “Until recently, my family and I lived in the neutral city of Feesa,” he said.
Both Kelm and Maebus were very familiar with the city, particularly the tragedy it had become.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Maebus said. He lowered his gaze towards the fire. “And you’ve lived out here in the Northern Lands ever since?”
Normandy rubbed his eyes. “I was preparing to rest for the night when I heard the commotion coming from the town. I spotted you from the woods. I knew exactly who you were ... enemies of the Warlord,” he took another bite of meat before continuing. “I too am his enemy. For what he did to my home, to my people, to my family, I would watch him die a thousand times. For all eternity, I would make him feel the piercing grief he has caused me.” Normandy’s voice shook as he tightly wrung his hands together as if soothing them from pain.
Kelm understood that with the fall of Feesa having not been that long ago, the pain was still very fresh in Normandy’s heart. To speak of it must have been to relive every agonizing moment of it.
“Look at me,” Normandy continued. “Look at my hands and how strong they are; my tremendous height and physical stature.” He thrust out his hands, flexing his fingers and clutching them into fists. “None of it was enough. I watched the walls crumbling around me and my family. I tried to protect them ... my wife ... my child. But I ... I couldn’t save them. This scar on my face is a reminder of my failure.”
He pointed to the deep laceration that ran from his temple to his chin. There was anguish and fury in his words. “I-It’s still hard for me to talk about it. But ever since that day, the day I lost them, I’ve sworn vengeance against the Warlord. I’ve sworn that all he has, everything he commands, I shall destroy.” His frown tightened and his right-eye twitched slightly from what Kelm could only assume was anger.
Kelm stood silently as Maebus placed a comforting hand on Normandy’s shoulder. He knew that the pain that Normandy felt, even the guilt he carried for surviving, was similar to that which Maebus bore for losing the kingdom.
“I thank you, Normandy, for all that you did for us last night, for guiding us to safety, and not least for breakfast this morning,” Maebus smiled. “Where will you be heading after this?”
“Nowhere in particular. I spend much of my time here in these woods.”
“Then come with us,” Maebus suggested, rising to his feet.
Normandy scratched his head. “Where are you going? I’ve heard rumors that Centre Pointe was conquered by Damian.”
“And we intend to get it back!” Kelm said, stepping towards them. “We’re heading to the Ancient Lands to speak with someone who can help us. We could really use the skills of a woodsman on a journey such as this.”
The worry in Normandy’s expression suddenly vanished. “Absolutely. I’ll come with you. I’d do anything to stop the Warlord.”
“Excellent,” Maebus exclaimed, walking over, and patting him on the shoulder.
Kelm, too, beamed as he bent over to shake Normandy’s hand.
“I know this area extremely well and can lead you through the Northern Lands,” Normandy said. “Also, knowing the tenacity of the Legion, they’ll likely continue their pursuit of you. I can help to cover our tracks.”
“How soon can we leave?” Maebus asked.
“Immediately,” Normandy replied. “But the journey to the Ancient Lands will be long and tedious. We’re going to need supplies.”
“Especially since we left everything behind last night,” Kelm added. “Well ... everything except this.” The Wizard reached down and grabbed Maebus’ battle sword.
“I thought I’d lost this!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide.
“No, I know how important it is,” Kelm stated. “It’s really the only thing you have left to remember your father.”
He handed Maebus the sword.
“I’m ready,” Maebus said, sheathing it underneath his robe.
“Good,” Normandy replied. “Further east of here, lying between the mountain range and the ancient boundary is a village. It’s known as Cyperus Village and is home to a clan of nomadic warriors.”
“Can we get supplies from them?” Maebus asked.
“Indeed. Granted, I must warn you. The inhabitants of Cyperus aren’t used to visitors. But I know them to be a very civil and courteous people,” he paused, smiling, “most of the time at least. Before we leave this camp, there are a few items I’ll need to prepare.”
“That’s fine,” Maebus said. As he tried to step forward, his wobbly leg suddenly gave out. He fell to the ground.
“Ouch,” Kelm laughed, sprinting over to help
him.
“Your leg appears to be hurt pretty badly,” Normandy noticed.
“It was broken earlier, but Kelm was able to heal it somewhat before we got ambushed in town.”
Kelm carefully stretched out the leg upon the ground and examined it. “You take care of what you need to do, Normandy. I’ll work on this. The leg is mostly healed, so this shouldn’t take long.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight