Chapter 21 - Blackheart

Schard’s eyes grudgingly opened. He had thought it too dangerous to try and go back to the place he had once called home but after spending one night in a dank, cold, inhospitable cave it was a risk Schard was prepared to take. A dream had shaken him through the night but he could not quite remember it. His mind went through the events of the night before. Schard had found it uneasy having to break into his own house, a lock had been put on it by one of the kings men and on the door hung a huge wanted poster. Schard looked at the money being offered for his capture and solemnly contemplated it. `Two hundred and fifty gold pieces` he thought. `Is that what my life has come down too`. Schard shook his head and tore the poster up. Schard examined the look with amusement. “Just a simple flick of the wrist...” he said before realising that his powers had gone. Dejected, Schard looked around for something to help him break the lock. He walked around the house and found a suitably large stone, he then bashed the lock off. Even thought it was his own house it was a strange experience. Schard had never willingly broken the king’s law before, he had gone to the castle with futile ambitions of becoming king but he was not entirely sure that was him. Schard only planned to stay one night, he just needed a good nights sleep before attempting to make his way into Legia castle and return the book that had slipped through his grasp. `That boy had better not figured it all out yet` thought Schard as he made his way up the steps and into his house. `That will make my job a lot tougher than it allready is`. Schard forced all his problems out of his mind and settled down to bed. The next morning came, as all bad mornings do, too soon. After going through the events of the previous night Schard managed to drag himself from his bed and over to a mirror. Schard yawned extravagantly before catching a look at himself in the mirror, and then it came to him. The dream returned to him and caused him to immediately turn from the mirror because he knew that it was no dream, it was the future. Schard forced the visions to the back of his mind, refusing to acknowledge it and partly accepting it. Schard then began to prepare. Schard pulled a book and the bottom draw of his bookshelf spun around. Schard looked down at the containers there, most of the jars there were empty with the rest being taken but one still remained. Schard reached into the exposed shelf and picked up the jar then examined it, blowing away at the cobwebs that surrounded it. Schard smiled and raised his eyebrows as he discovered that it was a container of his perfect health formula. “Maybe my luck is changing” Schard said as he put the container into a knapsack, not believing his own words. Schard’s plan to get into Legia castle was ridiculously simple, which is why it would never be under suspicion. He would take the uniform Gyraicus had once given him and simply walk in. It was desperate but without his powers it was all he had. Schard then put back the bottom shelf, returning the bookcase to its original form. Schard looked around the middle shelf of books and took a blue one out toward the centre of the shelf, he then opened the book in which the pages had been cut in the shape of a square and a key lay in the square. Schard took the key out of the book and returned the book to its place on the shelf, he then walked over to his bed and pulled out a case from underneath. Schard blew away at the dust that had formed on the top of the case and opened it. Inside the case was the uniform of the kings men, Gyraicus originally had wanted Schard to wear it and it was only through Schard’s pleading that he eventually did not have too. Schard had the advantage of knowing the layout of the castle so he would be gone before anyone could suspect anything. Schard took a deep breath as he took the uniform out of the case and put it on. Firstly there was the green and red cotton shirt with the King’s emblem on it which was made for Schard when he was a thinner man and because of this it was a slightly constricting fit. Schard then put on a chain mail over it. Next was the brown leggings which had faded during its stay underneath Schard’s bed. Schard was feeling more ridiculous the more of the uniform he put on. Schard went to put on the chest plate but decided he would wait until the castle was in sight as he was feeling very uncomfortable as it was, without having heavy battle armour weighing him down. Schard examined the rest of the contents of the chest and scratched his head, Gyraicus had never given him a sword or sword belt. `And that's gonna be one of the first things they’ll notice` thought Schard. Schard bit his lip, there was only one way to get a sword and that was from a guard and there was no way that he would just give it away, Schard would have to take it. Schard shook his head clear and put on the boots, which restricted him even further. Schard put his knapsack over his head and put the chest and back plate inside it, he then headed for the door and exited. Schard’s walk to Legia castle was a reflective one. `Everyday I wake up and immediately I want the day to be over` Schard thought to himself, then sighed deeply. Schard wiped his mind clean and then made an attempt at enjoying the scenery around him. Even though he was without his powers and alone, Schard found this time better than when he had immense powers and was in Kaiazal’s darkworld. There evil was a way of life, Schard found himself anxious at every turn and even though Kaiazal had made a guarantee that he would not be hurt, the suffering he saw others going through hurt Schard more than any physical pain could. At first he was immune to it, simply enjoying the newly gained powers that had made him mighty beyond all comprehension. Soon however, the constant screams got to him and he relentlessly prayed to see Legia once more. Schard looked around at the beauty of the nature that surrounded him and felt entranced by it all. The greenery around the majestic trees and the exotic plants that surrounded the track which Schard was walking along made him sigh contently, this was the closest he had felt to happy in a long time. Schard got to a steep hill and made his way up it gradually. The hill took a lot more out of him that he had first anticipated and as he came to the crest of a hill he stopped to rest at the top. “I‘m too old for this” he panted as he rested his back against a tree. Schard then looked down to the way below, Legia castle was in sight and not far away now at all. Schard lifted his knapsack over his head and took out the armour, he put the back part in place and held it as he secured the chest plate in place. With both the chest and back plate safely secured, Schard put his knapsack back around his shoulder and continued on his way to Legia castle. As Schard got closer to the castle, fear began to creep into his mind. Schard’s mind began to panic and was certain he would be found out, Schard stopped suddenly and composed himself. Schard decided he would not be at ease until he found a sword and looked around frantically for a lone guard. Schard smiled deviously as he saw a guard approach from the castle. Alone and probably one of the more feeble of the castle’s guards, Schard prepared himself for greeting the soldier. “Morning” the soldier greeted the guard with.
“Where are you off to at this time?” asked Schard, as if he had known the man for years.
“Just making my rounds” the soldier spoke anxiously.
“Rounds? this far from the castle”. Schard paused “Pershia?”. Schard’s days as a wizard around the castle had given him the knowledge of the guards frequent trips to the tavern in the small town by the castle, and their admiration of the tavern’s renowned barmaid, Pershia. The guard gave Schard an embarrassed smile and Schard saw his face glow bright red. Schard laughed casually and the guard walked past Schard, the smile on Schard’s face disappeared as he turned to the guard and tapped him on the shoulder. As the guard turned, Schard grabbed him and unused to hand to hand combat, slammed him into the metal chest plate adorning his bulky chest. Schard felt very awkward as the guard’s head slammed into the plate. The unconscious body of the guard fell into Schard’s arms and he gently lowered him to the floor. Schard made his way to the guard’s waist and unclipped the sword belt from its lifeless owner and clipped it onto his own waist. The restrictive properties of the clothes coupled with the sword belt made for a man nowhere near Schard’s bulk made it almost a struggle to breath as Schard made his way to his feet. Schard discarded the body in a ditch, knowing that the guard could not tell anyone as he was leaving duty to go to a tavern and could not tell the story without this part. Schard looked at Legia castle and smiled evilly. Schard then began to walked back toward the castle. The huge gate that was the only way in was raised as Schard began to approach it. Schard smiled, his plan had worked. Schard’s pace quickened as he made his way toward the castle entrance and inside. “I’m coming for you Presto” said Schard under his breath as he went through the castle doors. Presto jumped awake with a cold sweat. The light had gone now and he felt strange. During Presto’s usually uneventful sleep, a vision of Paix had come to him. The light engulfed him and he instantly felt warm all over. At first he felt afraid when the heavenly figure approached him. He could see her divine outline but her features were blocked by the fact that there was a blinding light behind her. The fear that Presto felt soon melted, to give way to a feeling of security, Presto began to feel more comfortable. When Paix initially spoke it made Presto jump. “You have solved the first part of the mystery” she said, causing Presto’s heart to skip several beats. “There remains two more. I shall help you Presto” her voice echoed around in Presto’s mind making it seem louder than it was. “You will need to be brave. Goreoth is a nightmare above all ever conceived by man. You must stop him Presto.” her final words continued to repeat in Presto’s mind even now as he made his way out bed. Presto stopped in his movement altogether and looked around the room, something felt different. Then Presto spotted it, there was a few pieces of paper that had not been there before laying on the seat next to Presto’s bed. Presto walked over to them and picked them up, there were two. The first had been torn out of a book, Presto immediately snapped his fingers, the book he had been using was missing a page. The second was a larger piece and had been folded up to the size of one of the book’s pages. Presto picked it up and opened up the page, on it there was a drawing. Presto blew at the page, it was old and dust had formed on it, making it difficult to make out what was actually on the page. Presto narrowed his brow and looked at the drawing. The drawing consisted of an axe in the middle, with a sword either side of it. At the bottom of both the swords was the picture of a dragon and at the bottom of the axe was also the picture of a dragon, but this dragon was different. The dragon at the bottom of the axe was black whereas the other two were not filled in. Presto continued to look around the page for anything that might help him understand what it meant. Above the picture was a phrase, Presto blew more dust off and attempted to read it. “Ojv Tuhe Zthri Tuhe Xidonz Lizs Tuhe Ktio” Presto struggled to make out some of the words but he did the best he could to read the phrase aloud. Presto then began to try and make some sense out of it. “Of The Three The Second Is The King” he almost instantly translated. Presto got to his feet and began to pace the room, document in hand. Presto worked out in his mind that whatever the king was, it was referring to the axe in the middle of the drawing. Presto looked out of the window and saw that the sun had still not begun to rise, Presto decided to take his troubles out to the balcony. Presto began to shiver as he began to look across the night sky, he snapped his fingers to make a suitably warm robe appear around him, at first nothing happened but Presto was successful on the second attempt. `I can master the harder arts of magic, but when it comes to something as simple as a robe im hopeless` Presto thought to himself as he pulled the robe tight. Presto had always been exceptional at the harder things. It was this which first caught the eye of Octavio, the grandest wizard in all of Kastellion, the town in which Presto had grown up. Presto chuckled to himself, it had only been five years ago when he used to lay down under a tree and stare at Kastellion castle. Presto had dreamed of becoming a soldier, but his almost feeble frame prevented this from ever coming to fruition. His two older brothers shared Presto’s same ambition but unlike Presto they managed to succeed in becoming a soldier. Presto laughed as he thought about his brothers `I bet they’ve only seen Legia castle in pictures` he thought to himself, then he sighed deeply `oh how I miss them`. It was when Presto was fourteen that Octavio had first taken an interest in him. Presto had become an outcast, in constant depression because he could never make his dream of becoming a powerful soldier a reality. It was only when Presto visited Octavio that this depression would let up. Presto wondered at the tricks Octavio would conjure and continuously begged to be taught some tricks of his own. After a lot of Presto’s persistence, Octavio began to teach him how to become a wizard. Presto quickly found what Octavio called the harder things to do easier, Octavio would constantly say that Presto had a “natural gift” and he should be careful what he did with it. It was three months to the day before Presto’s sixteenth birthday when Octavio died, Presto bit his lip as he recalled the pain. Had Octavio been alive to teach Presto, he could have possibly been the greatest of all time but Presto was forced to learn alone. Octavio left Presto all his magic books and Presto began to learn on his own, it was during this time that people really started to take notice of him. Proclaimed the next Schard in Kastellion, people would come to flock and see the young wizard perform tricks of unseen amazement. People would pay numerous sums of money to see the amazing feats that Presto could do and even though Presto did not like performing his magic in front of a crowd, like a circus act it provided enough money to keep his mother and father one of the wealthiest in Kastellion. It was after one of Presto’s shows that he met Di Sangro, for whom he grew an instant distrust. Once Presto had finished, Di Sangro would often tell stories of his travels to any of Presto’s audience that would listen. Presto knew Di Sangro only was there to exploit the audience that he drew, but he didn't mind. Di Sangro would attempt to prove to Presto how irresistible to women he was at every turn, Presto laughed out loud as he remembered. Di Sangro would, because of his reputation for being a great warrior, get girls but Presto remembered how utterly pathetic Di Sangro acted around them. For over a year, Di Sangro would hang around with Presto before and after his shows, all the while Presto grew tired of performing his magic. Presto yearned to study more magic and desired to travel around Legia. It was Presto’s dislike for performing that led to him agreeing to go with Di Sangro and take over Legia castle. Presto could sense Di Sangro’s growing dislike for his company and this strengthened Presto’s resolve to join them. Presto didn’t tell his parents where he was going, he told them he was going away for a while to study more magic and he didn't know when he would be returning, or if he would. Presto had almost wanted his father to forbid him to go, after all, he was only seventeen and still a boy but his father was grateful for what Presto had provided for them and more importantly, he trusted Presto. Presto sighed, he missed his parents intensely and felt foolish for ever wanting to leave the easy life he had in Kastellion. Presto looked down at the parchment he had in his hands and then looked to the sky. “I cannot come home just yet father” he said to the sky “there is a mystery I must solve first”.

The night was filled with broken images. Valandt tossed and turned around in his bed, his sleep disturbed by terrible dreams. The morning came as a blessing, Valandt got out of bed as the sun came through the balcony window directly in front of him. Valandt strode to the balcony wearing nothing more than a pair of white silk leggings. The bitter cold of the early morning made the hairs on Valandt’s body stand on end as he looked over the balcony and began to watch the sun rise. Valandt didn’t feel the early morning chill as he watched the sun come out, his mind was elsewhere. Valandt’s recent actions had shattered him, he was a pale version of himself as he looked on to the horizon. He closed his eyes and bit his lip as he began to think of the changes in him. The image of the guard who Valandt nearly killed haunted him now as it did in his dreams. Valandt ran his hand through his hair and began to think his deal with Kaiazal. `Killing someone as vile as that. it is if Kaiazal is rewarding me. One of my foes dead and my father back where he belongs. All I have to do is find him`. Valandt’s thoughts ricocheted around in his mind, something troubled him. `As much as I want Schard dead, I’m reluctant to go and look for him, why now am I suddenly developing a dislike for the ending of lives`. Valandt looked to the sky “I need you father” he said, then Valandt sighed and sulked onto the stone floor of the balcony. Valandt was nervous at his sudden aggressive change, it was like he was unleashing the dark side of himself and he didn't like it. Valandt lay back and looked up at the sky, ignoring the fact that his back was now pressed against the cold rough stone floor of his balcony. The moon drew Valandt’s attention and he began to stare deeply at it. “That's who you are”. Kaiazal’s words echoed in Valandt’s mind. “You can feel the urge can‘t you. The need to kill” the voice he so despised refused to leave him alone. The words of Kaiazal troubled Valandt, they sparked a distant memory from long ago but Valandt’s mind refused to access it, almost as a warning that if Valandt was able to retrieve the memories, he would not like them. Valandt’s head began to ache and he groaned and got back to his feet and strode back toward his bed, rubbing his forehead all the way. The feelings of intense anger were not foreign to Valandt, he had fought for many years to suppress them however now they were coming out in full force and Valandt could feel that he was losing the battle against his darker side. “The Gloariax is fifty percent Paix and fifty percent Goreoth” now Imunzo’s words began to invade Valandt’s mind, his headache began to intensify. `Fifty percent good.... and fifty percent evil` Valandt concluded as he lay back down on his bed, struggling to concentrate on anything but the pain now. `and the evil side of me is taking over` Valandt summed up, beginning to break into a sweat now. The images of Kaiazal and Gyraicus began to flash into his mind, Valandt began to breathe heavily as he felt his grasp on reality fading. Schard suddenly appeared to the left side of his bed, Valandt swung at him and his hand went straight through where Valandt thought Schard stood causing him to fall out of the bed, his mind was playing tricks on him. Schard reappeared on the other side of Valandt’s bed and next to him now stood the figure of Shadow. Valandt ran over and picked up his axe and swung at both the imaginary Shadow and Schard. Valandt felt his headache climax and roared with pain. Pure hatred coursed through his veins and he felt anger beyond all previously conceived. The images of Schard and Shadow disappeared and Valandt looked down at the blade of the axe and caught his reflection. Puzzled by the strangeness of the image that reflected back at him, Valandt raised the axe up and held it in front of his face. The image of Valandt‘s reflection then began to talk to Valandt. “Blackheart” his reflection called to him, making Valandt instantly cringe and cry out for it was a name he thought he would never be called again.
“Stop! Don't call me that” Valandt shouted, his eyes filled with tears now.
“You have forced me back for too long, I‘m back and I have no intention of leaving” the voice speaking back to Valandt was full of malice and spite.
“This isn't happening. You-you‘re just a figment of my imagination” Valandt said desperately. “No im very, very real. You‘re just afraid” The reflection of Valandt began to laugh, Valandt now badly wanted to drop the axe but his arms refused to comply. “There is no use fighting me, you tried that before and failed” Valandt’s reflection continued to laugh evilly. “The last time I came back you couldn't stop me and there will be no stopping Blackheart”.
“Stop calling me that” tears began to roll down Valandt’s cheeks as he desperately tried to fight the memories from surfacing.
“I think you‘re in need of a history lesson” said the voice of Valandt’s reflection, it then disappeared and Valandt instantly dropped the axe. Valandt attempted to catch his breath and he stood in a cold sweat when suddenly he felt dizzy and fell onto the bed. Valandt then went back to when he was ten years old, back to the day when he killed his father.