The Realmsic Conquest: The Hero of Legend

  Maebus wiped the sweat from his forehead. “If only I had completed magical studies as a young Disciple,” he joked. “What exactly are we looking at?”

  “This design is of the highest divinity and symbolizes the story of the First Wizards and the Realmsic Crystal,” Fable explained. She bent towards the ground, pushing her silver hair from her face and pointing at the various triangles. “The outer triangles represent the First Wizards themselves in seated positions. Together, they forged the crystal, which is the diamond shape between them. And from the crystal exudes infinite power and balance, which are the two lines ascending upwards. It’s a perfect symbol that some believe was created by Sun and Moon themselves.”

  “And it’s on my back?” Leoden shook his arms wide as he spoke.

  “That it is,” Kelm replied. “For all we know, you could’ve been born with it. But what I don’t understand is why a magical mark would be branded upon a non-magical person. It just doesn’t work that way.”

  “Well, it’s possible for magic to be stored within Laymen,” Fable said.

  Kelm shook his head. “True, but a Layman wouldn’t have access to the magic. His body would just be a container that holds it. Therefore, it wouldn’t manifest like how we see with Leoden.” Kelm paused briefly to take a breath. “In fact, the purpose of the entire Wizard discipleship is to learn how to recognize the magical energy surrounding oneself, and then open your mind, body, and spirit to it. That’s how one utilizes magic, by becoming a gateway for its will. Without that bond—that personal acceptance—a mark such as this could not form on one’s being, unless...”

  Leoden felt his stomach flutter as Kelm stared squarely at him. He then lowered his gaze, feeling the Wizard’s eyes penetrating his body. “Guess there’s no point in hiding it now,” Leoden said softly.

  “Really? Another secret?” Normandy bellowed, throwing his hands up. “I haven’t recovered from the last one! You know ... the whole Realmsic Crystal thing?”

  Leoden held his hands coyly in front of himself as the group surrounded him. “For years now, I’ve had a suspicion that perhaps I was Magical,” he admitted. “But I never knew for sure.”

  Maebus stepped even closer, giving Leoden his full attention. “Go on.”

  “All my life, I’ve lived among the Cyperus Clan. But the Elder recently told me that I wasn’t born one of them. I know nothing about my past, and up until now it didn’t really matter. The Cyperus clan took me in and raised me as one of their own. Over the years, while training to be a warrior, I somehow developed a sixth sense.”

  “How so?” Maebus asked.

  Leoden studied the ground before him. “Well ... I can’t quite explain it. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever spoken about it out loud.”

  Fable gave his arm a consoling squeeze. “It’s okay, take your time,” she said. “We’re just hoping to understand.”

  Leoden nodded. After briefly licking his dry lips, he continued. “Every so often, I knew things about people without them telling me anything about themselves. Also, I could sense when important events were about to occur.

  “For example, just before the rise of the Warlord, I had a vivid image of fighting Legionaries. I was wide awake and it flashed right before my eyes. I didn’t understand it at the time. I thought I’d just been training too hard. But since that day, I felt an overwhelming urge to leave my village. In fact your Highness, you and I even talked about it in front of my campfire.”

  “I remember,” Maebus nodded.

  Leoden reached down to grab his shirt from out of the river water. “The feeling to leave home consumed me,” his voice slightly quivered, as he wrung water from the shirt with both hands. “I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. The feeling just kept pushing and pushing me, until finally I left my village. Granted, I had no idea where I was going, but I learned to trust my instinct, and my instinct led me to you.”

  Leoden studied the faces of the people before him, yet he couldn’t gauge their expressions. Did they think him crazy? Perhaps a fool?

  Kelm stroked his chin stubble before speaking. “Leoden, what you’re describing is called intuition,” he explained. “It’s a trait of those called Foreseer Wizards.”

  “And those are?”

  “Well, just as the name suggests, Forseers have the ability to peek into future events or be guided by intangible forces, as you appear to have been.” Kelm paused as if another thought suddenly entered his mind. “This trait takes decades of training for the most powerful Wizards to fully master. But you seemed to have developed the skill ... naturally.”

  Fabled cocked her head back and released a great laugh. “Amazing, young man! You’ve accomplished an incredible feat with no formal magical training or insight.” Suddenly, she gasped. “Oh my goodness!” Her eyes grew wide as she threw a hand over her mouth.

  “Whaaaat?” Leoden’s damp shirt dangled from his hand as limp and vulnerable as he felt.

  Fable counted on her fingers. “The Mark. The natural instincts. The daring rescue. Yes! It all makes sense. Leoden,” she gazed unflinchingly into his eyes, “I strongly believe that you’re what is referred to as the Hero of Legend!”

  “The Hero of Legend!” he exclaimed. Leoden then rubbed a stiff hand through his hair. “I ... uh, I don’t know what that means.”

  “Two thousand years ago, it was prophesied by the First Wizards themselves that great evil would revert the Realm back into the Darkest Age. But at the same time, a hero would arise to not only vanquish that evil, but also help to end the endless war once and for all.”

  “Oh, okay.” There was nothing else Leoden could say. He felt his face wash of all expression, as such an idea was completely outlandish to him, and sounded very much a fairytale. But deep down, he hoped it was true. Fighting for ultimate good was a warrior’s dream. But it wasn’t the perceived glory that appealed to him. It was the possibility of finally finding answers about his own past, answers to questions that had haunted him of late.

  “Wait,” Maebus suddenly interrupted, his hands forming a T. “I thought the hero was supposed to be found? Fable, didn’t you say that?”

  “Yes-yes, I did,” the Archivist admitted.

  Normandy stretched out his long muscular arm and pointed towards Leoden. “Well, technically, he was found ... by King Maebus.”

  “How so?” the King’s tone was filled with skepticism.

  “Back at Cyperus Village, when Grand Wizard Kelm and I were selecting supplies for our journey to the Ancient Land. It was you who approached Leoden as he sat by his fire. It was you who first spoke to him. It was you who found him before we even knew we needed to!”

  “That’s sheer coincidence,” Maebus crossed his arms.

  “Really? Coincidence?” Kelm interjected.

  “What else could it be?”

  “Perhaps truth.”

  Maebus began to protest. But Leoden whistled sharply to cease what was becoming another argument. Within the pit of his stomach, he felt an urge to speak. Perhaps it was the same urge that had been driving him along his journey. “Look,” he began confidently, “I don’t know anything about kingdoms, or anything about magic. But I know myself. It was my instinct that—”

  “Intuition!” Fable kindly reminded him, shaking her index finger.

  “It was my intuition that forced me to leave my village and my hard but comfortable life. It guided me to you all. After I first met you, King Maebus, it was intuition that told me that you were someone important, and that my purpose was to somehow help you. I’m not sure that I believe in this Hero of Legend stuff. But I do believe that I’m here for you, and I have no desire to go back home. Not now. Not until we see this thing through.”

  Maebus seemed to contemplate Leoden’s words. He dropped his arms from their crossed position. “You’ve already freed us from certain death at the hands of the Warlord. What more do you think you could possibly do for us?”

  “Whatever I can,” Leoden replied
.

  There seemed to be nothing more Maebus could say in rebuttal. As he’d previously stated to the group, they had no other strategies. Yet, Leoden thought that perhaps with him they did—even if it was simply providing the will to continue fighting.

  “Very well,” Maebus said, with a heavy sigh.

  “Excellent,” Fable exclaimed.

  “What do we do now?” Normandy asked, as Leoden put on his semi-wet shirt.

  Maebus’ expression hardened. “It’s nearly mid morning. We should stay here for the day, perhaps even the night, eat and rest up. Tomorrow, we’ll continue with our original plan and head to the Southern Lands. Hopefully, the Realmsic Council will still be waiting. From there, we’ll also reunite our forces and launch a final attack against the Warlord Damian. This will be our last stand. Either we reclaim our kingdom, or we die.”

  The others nodded in agreement.

  “Leoden, let’s hunt for some breakfast,” Normandy patted him on his back.

  “Okay,” the young warrior agreed.

  • • • • •

  Maebus watched as Normandy and Leoden trailed off together to prepare for their breakfast hunt. His heart felt heavy, wondering if he’d made a good decision, or was once again leading his men to death.

  Walking to the edge of the riverbank, he observed the waters lapping gently at his feet. Each small wave took a bit of the sediment as it receded into the river. He crunched his toes within his boots, trying to relieve stress. As a small breeze hit his face, he thought back to the mountain lake he and Kelm visited in the Northern Lands. But peace, unfortunately, could not be found within that image.

  Next, his mind drifted to the isolated splendor that was Cyperus Village. But that image also did little to relieve his anxiety.

  His focus was broken by the sound of someone approaching from behind.

  “Maebus,” Kelm said stepping forward. The bottoms of his robes were damp and dirty from being dragged on the sand.

  “Yes, Kelm.”

  The Wizard didn’t speak until they were standing side-by-side.

  “I can’t hold this in any longer,” Kelm began in a quiet, yet strong voice. “I understand that you’re frustrated, and that you probably blame this entire situation on yourself. But this situation isn’t yours alone. It’s ours ... now all of ours.”

  Maebus continued staring over the water into the distance as Kelm’s words filled his ears. “It’s selfish for you to think that you carry this burden alone. What you said earlier hurt. We are not fools, and hope is not your enemy. Therefore, I hope that by the time this is over, you’ll have learned a lesson in faith.”

  Without allowing Maebus a chance to respond, Kelm turned around and walked away.

  Chapter Forty-Eight