The giant tongues of fire cackled in the night, licking away every bit of the building. So immense was the heat that Gabriel could feel it even from where he was standing.
His legs almost buckled, but he refused to allow them to. Dropping his luggage, he made a dash to the temple as tears began to line his eyes.
Only the gate remained intact, which was not really a good thing. Gabriel was not sure how, but he made his way over it.
The temple was in complete ruins, every inch of it charred. Gabriel's eyes scanned the area desperately for any form of life. Even one of the stray dogs the temple took in would ease his anxiety.
No, there was no one. Nothing could have survived in the blazing wreck. As his spirit gave in, so did his legs. He sank to his knees, mouth agape. Visions of the people he loved—Penelope, Persephone, Master Vincent and Master Apollo—flashed before his eyes, slowly at first, then so quickly that he could hardly make them out.
A rugged voice called out in the night, but Gabriel did not appear to hear it. The voice called again, this time with more ferocity. When Gabriel failed to react, a large hand pulled on his shoulder.
His body was thrown onto the ground, and Gabriel looked up into the face of his attacker. It was a bearded man, exceptionally tall, with powerful shoulders and a prominent chin. His massive bulk was clothed in midnight-black armour, and he wielded a pair of wicked scimitars.
He growled something unintelligible and threw a kick into Gabriel's gut. The young man fell backwards, clutching his abdomen. The attacker raised his scimitar…
It flashed once, but instinct prompted Gabriel to roll out of harm's way. Half-crawling, he ran towards the gate; the armoured man gave chase, sending his weapon flying. It narrowly missed Gabriel's cheek, striking one of the gate's iron bars.
Adrenaline pumping, Gabriel found himself scrambling over the gate, landing on the ground on all fours. It was only hours later that he would begin to feel the throbbing ache in his muscles.
He turned around to see if the coast was clear; it was not. The large man was in mid-air, well over the metal gate. Gabriel leapt to his feet, bounding forward as his pursuer landed. Several shouts were emanating from the air now, battle-cries of sorts.
Gabriel ran with every ounce of speed he could muster. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot up his leg, causing him to fall. His fingers moved to the source of the pain: his lower leg was soaked with blood. A small hunting knife protruded from it, held rigidly in place by his torn muscles.
The attacker caught with him, standing over Gabriel like an ominous, black cloud. He smiled sadistically, exposing a set of yellowed teeth.
Then, his expression changed: the mirthless smile faded, drooping. His eyes widened, as if in shock. His jaw dropped, and just hung there. He toppled onto Gabriel; the shaft of a silver arrow stuck out from the man's back.
"We have to go," said a voice from the darkness.
Something caught hold of Gabriel's upper arm, and he allowed himself to be lifted up. The voice he had heard had a soothing quality to it, and he found it trustworthy.
They fled to the woods—Gabriel and his unseen protector—and the sounds of destruction died away.
The forests were quiet that night; even the Hunter Owls made not their hooting noises. Gabriel found himself propped up against a tree. The night's events had yet to be fully processed in his mind, and his heart stirred up a tumult of fear, disbelief and loss.
"Are you alright?" came the voice of his protector again.
Gabriel nodded, turning around.
A woman was kneeling before him, her emerald eyes sparkling in the night. Her face was without blemish, and her raven hair was tied back neatly in a ponytail: not a single strand was out of place. A belt holding a pair of daggers was placed around her waist, and the tip of a bow—along with a quiver of arrows—stuck out from her back.
"What just happened?" gasped Gabriel, his eyes red.
"Those were Evil Men from the forces of Darkness," explained the woman. "They were after you."
Gabriel found it hard to breathe, much less talk; but he managed to ask, "After me? What would they want with me?"
The woman was now scanning her surroundings, her focus not completely on Gabriel. She soon turned back to him, her enchanting eyes sparkling. She reached to her belt and pulled out one of the daggers.
It was a fine weapon, with a jewel-encrusted handle. Its blade was deadly sharp and, quite queerly, exuding a sapphire glow.
The woman continued to say, "This is the Halo Dagger, a promise from Mother Light that she would one day give us a Champion to conquer the forces of Darkness."
If Gabriel had not been so aggrieved by the sudden loss of the only friends and family he knew, his mind would have processed the information faster. Instead he just said, "What are you saying?"
The woman's voice dropped, and she spoke in a quick and precise manner, "You, Gabriel Pendragon, are the Champion of Mother Light. I have been camping in these forests for days now, watching you, and unfortunately, so have the Evil Men. They want you dead, but the rest of the world needs you very much alive.
You are the one Mother Light has promised us, Gabriel Pendragon, and you are the one who will lead our world to salvation."
Struggling to stand, Gabriel said, "You've got the wrong guy…"
The woman rose as well, still holding the Halo Dagger.
"No, I haven't," she said curtly. "This blade only glows when its true wielder—the Champion—is near it. You are the Champion, Gabriel Pendragon."
Teetering a little, Gabriel made to exit the forest. But the woman grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.
"Wait," she said. "The Evil Men are still out there. Leave now, and you'll die. And if that happens, all hope is lost."
Gabriel's hands curled slowly into tight fists.
"We need to get to Landovar—the children of Mother Light have gathered."
Gabriel drew in a large mouthful of air, and exhaled deeply. "You haven't told me your name."
From behind him, the woman smiled. "My name is Seraphim."
*** *** ***
They waited for several hours at the edge of the forest. The Evil Men were persistent, and constantly searched the surrounding area. Gabriel found himself dragged along the trees by Seraphim whenever the enemy loomed too close. Occasionally she would leave tracks on purpose to lure the Evil Men towards her, killing them swiftly with her sharpshooting.
By now, it was three hours past midnight, and Seraphim's arsenal of arrows was dwindling. It seemed that killing a few Evil Men was not exactly a clever thing to do. The other troops, worried by the disappearance of their comrades, stayed on even longer in a bid to locate them. Gabriel, though a fairly patient gentleman, was not one who enjoyed extremely long waits.
"I think we've been hiding long enough," he hissed to Seraphim, who was peering through a thick cover of leaves.
"We can't go out like this. We'll be spotted," was the reply.
Gabriel sighed. "Look, we have to find another way. A back exit, perhaps."
"Are you suggesting we head deeper into the forests?"
"What's the matter? Are you afraid?"
Seraphim's head snapped backwards instantly. Her eyes narrowed menacingly. She opened her mouth to retort, but a grunting sound stopped her.
At the base of the exact tree they were mounted on, two Evil Men were speaking to one another. Gabriel could hardly make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be in an argument. One of them—a portly man wielding a halberd—pointed to the west, while the other pointed to the east. Portly Man shoved his companion rudely with one hand, while the latter drew his sword.
A noisy brawl began, with weapons of steel clanging loudly in the night. Seraphim turned to Gabriel, placing a finger on her lips. She then slipped down from the tree, landing gracefully on the soil. In one swift move she had drawn both her daggers and sent them both into the enemies. Neither man even noticed they had been struck, and both toppled, beaten.
Retrieving her daggers, Seraphim signalled to Gabriel to get down. He did, though not as gracefully as Seraphim.
"Looks like we take your advice," she told him.
Gabriel fingered the Halo Dagger nervously. "You mean we head deeper into the woods?"
Seraphim nodded. "Yes, Gabriel Pendragon. The Evil Men have sent a search party to either the eastern or western parts of the forests. Our safest route is therefore the south."
"But," said Gabriel as he wracked his brain, "isn't Landovar located in the North?"
"You know the geography of the world well, Gabriel Pendragon."
"About that: would you mind just calling me Gabriel?"
Seraphim's stunning green eyes searched his blue ones for a second. Then she said, "Let's go, Gabriel."
The sounds of large, shouting men emanated from the distance, and both Gabriel and Seraphim took it as their cue to run. Deeper and deeper into the forest they ran, and what little light the moon could offer soon disappeared. Shrouded in total darkness, Gabriel felt his chest tighten as Seraphim grabbed his wrist, yelling at him to never stop running. He could hear the Evil Men and their horses gaining, shouting orders and cursing in a tongue he thought gibberish.
In just one night, his entire life had changed. Gabriel Pendragon closed his eyes, wishing himself away from everything, wishing that everything he had just witnessed was nothing but a dream.
Gabriel closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink deeper and deeper into sub- consciousness…
He was unsure of how, but he had fallen asleep. In a dream he saw a rising pillar of flames which began to spread all around him. He could feel its heat on his skin—not that familiar warmth of the temple's fireplace, but one that seemed to sear into his soul. From behind the flames a cruel voice sounded, mocking him, taunting him…
And from the fires flashed a face; so quick was it to disappear that Gabriel had no chance to make out any specific features. Deep down inside, something told him that he did not wish to do so.
The malicious voice faded away; another voice was speaking, calling his name. Gabriel's eyes fluttered open.
"Gabriel!"
It was Seraphim.
"Gabriel!"
Gabriel groaned, "What did you call me?"
"You're awake," she said, her voice calming almost instantly.
He struggled to get up and felt a light hand against his back. His vision was blurry, but the first thing he saw when it cleared was a creature he had only read about in books from the temple library.
It was a Centaur, with the torso of a well-built Human, the ears of an Elf and the lower body of a large horse. As Gabriel stood he saw more emerging from the shadows. Each of them had an odd pattern tattooed on their foreheads, like a skull with a single eye in its centre. One of them—a large male with hair that fell well below his upper torso—stepped forward. The large blade hung around his waist was clearly visible even in the night.
"Human, this woman claims you to be the Champion of Light. Is this true?" he inquired in a commanding tone.
Gabriel, partially mesmerised by his first meeting with actual Centaurs, nodded uncertainly, his mouth hanging open rudely.
"Show me proof, Human!" demanded the Centaur, drawing his blade.
The sight of the weapon snapped Gabriel out of his half-stupor. Unsure of what to do, he turned to Seraphim for help.
"The dagger, the tattoo on your back, whichever you choose!" she hissed.
A question popped in his mind, but he ignored it and pulled out the Halo Dagger. It glowed intensely.
The Centaurs all gasped, taking several steps backwards.
A mumble arose among the Centaurs, but none of them took their eyes off the Halo Dagger. The Centaur who had spoken earlier, whom Gabriel deduced as the chief of the clan, bowed. The rest of his clan followed suit.
Now on his feet, Gabriel lowered the dagger, slipping it back into its scabbard.
The chief, straightening his upper back, said, "My name is Dagan. Should you need anything, Champion, do feel free to ask."
When the gathered Centaurs did not disperse, Gabriel said, "Some privacy would be nice…"
Dagan nodded, signalling to his clansmen to leave. Before he turned, he called, "Cyrus! Raziel! Take care of our guests."
Two Centaurs stepped away from the receding crowd. One had a mane of golden hair, similar to the fur on his lower half. The other had fiery, vermillion eyes, like the ones old Master Marion of the temple had. Both Centaurs bowed curtly.
For the first time, Gabriel began to notice his surroundings. He was in a hut of sorts, composed of leaves, branches and twigs. He had seen the outside of Centauren huts in books before, but he had never been inside of one till now. This one was extremely wide (and empty), with the ground smoothed flat and a dome-shaped roof held up by pillars of bone.
Seraphim, who had yet to speak, said, "You collapsed while we were running. Had it not been for these Banished Centaurs, we would have died."
"Banished?"
"Yes. The marks on their head are emblems of exile. These are Banished Centaurs."
Gabriel stroked his chin. "Could that mean they're with Darkness?"
"That's what I was thinking. Centaurs are naturally children of Light; but if the Humans could cross over, what's stopping the Centaurs?"
"But they saved us, right?"
Seraphim nodded. "That's the only thing that's preserving my trust now."
Gabriel paused, and then a thought struck him.
"That tattoo on my back…"
"Is the Seal of Champions," confirmed Seraphim. "The Champion of Darkness has one just like it."
"Wait a minute! How come you know about my tattoo?"
Seraphim turned away awkwardly, making a muffled, coughing sound. "Some questions are better left unasked, Gabriel."
"You're calling me Gabriel," he said, smiling.
"That is what you had asked, Champion of Light." She began to pace around the hut, which Gabriel estimated to be about twelve yards across, lengthwise. The night air was cool, entrapped in the hollow space.
One of the two Centaurs who had been ordered to guard them—the one with the vermillion eyes—came forward. He bowed, introducing himself as Raziel.
"Would the Champion like to have some water?"
Gabriel shook his head. "That's alright. Thanks…"
The Centaur—Raziel—did not move away, but continued to stare. He realised his rudeness, and apologised.
"I'm sorry, Champion. I just…did not expect you to be so…"
"Young?"
Raziel lowered his head apologetically. "I'm sorry. I mean you no disrespect…"
"It's alright," said Gabriel. "You're not that old yourself."
"Humanly speaking, I am about the same age as you, Champion," said Raziel. He ran a nervous hand through his shortly-cropped black hair.
"Please, call me Gabriel. I'm not used to the whole 'Champion' thing."
Seraphim's voice rang out from the far entrance of the hut: "Gabriel!"
Suddenly, screams and cries began to ring in the air. A flurry of arrows flew into the roof of the hut, stuck there.
"Come on!" yelled Gabriel to Raziel as he led the Centaur towards Seraphim.
Raziel screamed over his shoulder, "Cyrus!"
The other Centaur was positioned at another end of the hut, and had failed to realise the emergency. When his name was called, he turned. An arrow spiralled in through a weak spot in the roof, lodging itself in Cyrus' heart.
"Cyrus!" roared Raziel.
"We have to go!" Gabriel called.
When Raziel refused to move, Gabriel grabbed his arm. Centaurs were said to be exceptionally stronger than Humans, but the shock of seeing his friend murdered had rendered Raziel completely limp; Gabriel moved him out with much ease.
Seraphim was waiting at the door. Her face betrayed no crease of worry.
"Centaur, would it be too much to ask if we rode you?" she asked.
"Where to?" said Raziel, his voice distant and raspy.
"To the Echoing Plateaus."
The words snapped him out of his disbelief, and his eyes seemed to light up instantly. He nodded, lowering himself.
Gabriel had read that the greatest indignity to a Centaur would be to have another being ride upon it. Perhaps that did not apply to Banished Centaurs. Hopping on, the Champion of Light grabbed Seraphim's hand, throwing her over Raziel's back.
"Hold onto my shoulders; we're taking off!"
With that, Raziel galloped on. The village rushed by them swiftly, and Gabriel tried his best to block out the images of burning huts and the sounds of anguished screams.
"Stop!" he yelled. "We should stay and fight!"
"No! You're not ready yet! We need to get you to the Centaurs for training!"
"But these people—they need me! I'm the Champion. I should be defending them!"
"Exactly. What's to happen to the countless other innocents should you die here? Listen to me Gabriel, these Centaurs are banished. The only way for them to regain their honour would be to die for the greater good!" said Seraphim, firing an arrow behind her.
"She's right, Champion of Light," shouted Raziel without turning. "My people would have died in vain should you turn back now…"
Perhaps it was the icy wind, but Gabriel felt his eyes sting and his body growing very, very cold…
*** *** ***
They had left the Banished Centaurs far behind by the time the sun had risen. There was no sign of any Evil Men or other children of Darkness chasing them, so they stopped by a hill for a short break. Raziel had been running for hours, and even Centaurs needed to rest.
"I'm sorry for my lack of stamina, Champion," he panted.
Gabriel smiled. "I told you, call me Gabriel."
"I'm sorry; I've forgotten."
"You apologise too much," said Seraphim, looking around for any sign of danger.
Raziel was about to apologise again when he stopped himself. Gabriel laughed.
"We need supplies. Any villages around here, Gabriel?" asked Seraphim.
"Well, I haven't exactly been out of the temple much. At least, not on this side of Visage."
"If I may," said Raziel, "we have left Visage quite far behind. I have brought you around the forests, and we're now entering the Havenford region."
Havenford was the neighbouring state of Visage, and both regions were part of a collective country called Ironhelm, also known as the Land of Humans. Landovar, the Land of Elves, was its neighbouring country, just beyond the coasts of the Echoing Plateaus.
"How do we get to Landovar, Seraphim?" asked Gabriel as the thought of swimming across the Landovian seas etched its way into his mind.
Seraphim appeared to not hear him, and gave no reply.
"Seraphim?"
She snapped back, "I haven't exactly figured that out yet, alright?"
Raziel interrupted, "I have saved you the trouble of moving around Visage. This way we can get to the Echoing Plateaus faster. From there, we should be able to get a boat to Landovar."
"Enough. We'll talk about that later. For now, we need to gather supplies." She stood up and walked away.
Raziel turned to Gabriel, who shrugged and went along after her. Raziel shrugged to himself and did the same.
They walked for about half an hour before a distant pillar of smoke caught Gabriel's eye.
"Look!" he said, pointing towards the fumes.
As they approached the smoke, Gabriel could see the outline of a small village. Seraphim's hands tightened around her bow, and she pursed her lips in thought.
A sense of familiarity came to Gabriel, and as the sensation became greater, he said, "I think…I think I know this place…"
"We should leave," said Seraphim, her voice oddly heavy.
"Why? I mean, don't you want to take a look?" Gabriel asked.
"There is nothing to see, Gabriel."
Gabriel shook his head. "I know this place, I'm telling you. I just can't place it. It's so familiar."
He started down the gentle slope towards the village, and as he got closer the sight of charred buildings greeted him. The base of a once-towering silo lay crumbled in a heap of rubble. He stopped.
That sense of familiarity lingered, but brought back no memories.
Seraphim and Raziel were beside him now, and the former said, "Gabriel, listen to me…"
"I know this place, but I don't…"
"This village was razed by the forces of Darkness," noted Raziel.
"Tell me what this village is, Seraphim. I know you know!"
Seraphim pursed her lips again. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. When she spoke, her voice was quiet: "This was your birthplace…"
Gabriel felt his soul leave his body. He could see himself, standing between Seraphim and Raziel. He felt so far away. A man's voice echoed in the air, screaming, begging…
"Don't touch him!"
"The Champion of Darkness was born two days ago. That means the Champion of Light must be an infant. We have orders to kill every newborn in Ironhelm."
"Get away from him!"
A blast of light from nowhere engulfed his vision, blinding him.
"Gabriel!" Seraphim called.
"My father…"
"Look out!"
Raziel flung his arms around Seraphim and Gabriel, throwing them into the bushes as a flaming arrow zipped past them.
"Goblins!" said Seraphim as she drew an arrow. "Stay here, Gabriel!"
She leapt out of the bush, firing arrows and a rapid pace. The Goblins—leathery, ghoulish creatures with oversized Elf ears, clawed limbs and bulgy eyes—were screaming in their vulgar, incoherent tongue. Many were silenced by Seraphim's arrows.
Raziel emerged right after her, charging with his rough-hewn scimitar. He slashed at one of the gray-skinned Goblins, catching it in its unprotected abdomen.
Gabriel was still dazed by the sudden vision, and the battle seemed very far from him. He cradled his throbbing forehead gingerly. It felt like someone had pushed him down a tall cliff and he had fallen face-first into a bottomless pool of very, very cold water.
Somewhere in the devastated village, Seraphim's scream came. It seemed to jerk Gabriel out of the freezing water, but not all the way. He felt immense rage flowing through him, boiling in his blood. The strange mixture of hot and cold swirled unstably…
A gnarled hand caught him on the shoulder, the claws of which digging into his skin. Gabriel let his instincts and emotions take over; he felt his consciousness withdrawing, losing control of his body…
In a swift motion, he fired his palm into the Goblin that had touched him. The creature flew into a dried-up well in the centre of the village with a scream. Gabriel then drew the Halo Dagger, stabbing a Goblin that had attempted to assault him from behind.
Eyes lightning-white, Gabriel went into a slashing frenzy that brought the Goblins to the ground and the remaining ones fleeing.
Seraphim and Raziel, their feet bound by slings, watched in amazement as Gabriel stood panting over a writhing Goblin. He raised the dagger high over his head, plunging it through the Goblin's head with a fierce roar.
Time seemed to slow.
Gabriel's eyes reverted to their original colour, and he fell to his knees.
"Raziel," said Seraphim. "Can you reach your sword?"
Raziel's scimitar was lying several inches from his fingers. The double-sling that had entrapped all four of his horse-legs immobilised him almost completely. He inched closer towards the weapon, struggling. A Centaur hated having his movements restricted.
Suddenly, Raziel felt his legs kicking freely, as if against his own volition. Gabriel's hand was extended towards him, and the Centaur took it, pulling himself up. Gabriel then proceeded to free Seraphim, who dusted and smoothed her clothing.
"You're welcome," said Gabriel weakly.
Seraphim eyed him, then said, with what Gabriel perceived as great effort, "Thank you."
"Yes, many thanks, Cha—I mean, Gabriel," said Raziel in a half-bow.
Gabriel nodded. "I don't exactly know what just happened, but I think we should leave."
He turned to go, his head aching, his body sore. And as he left, the others followed. A bolt of lightning streaked across the darkening skies.
It had begun to rain.