Dathari II: Allegiance Ch. 1

Dathari II: Allegiance


“So he failed.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I feared that it might be so. I must admit that I am a tad disappointed, but in the end, it was inevitable.”
“We are given the approval to proceed then?”
“Yes. Release the assassins, then go and alert my generals to ready the troops.”
“Yes, my lord. As you requested, I shall lead the Southern Army myself.”
“Very good. Now go. Prove to me that you can conquer a country, and you shall be highly rewarded. Fail… his fate will have been better than yours.”
“Very Good, my lord. It is as you say.”




Chapter 1
“Argghh!” He yelled as the blade smashed against his shoulder. The opponent stood over him, simply shaking his head.
“If you do not fix that fault, then you shall fall every time. It is hard to see, I’ll grant you that. However, if it is found, then you will be in a heap of trouble!” The opponent held out his hand. The one on the ground took it and pulled himself up.

By no means was it a normal training match. Instead of a ring, this was held in a hallway. Instead of full armor, the competitors fought with a simple shirt on their back. Instead of training to take life, as in an army, they were training to protect a life; one that was very special.

“Alhon,” the opponent continued, “You will have to defeat me if you want to advance to the next level. And you will not do so until you fix that flaw.”
“Yes, sir,” was the only reply, as he walked into the room adjoining the hall. It was full of young men, in their late teens and twenties, all in the red robes of the Royal Datharian Guard. They would each try to defeat Nióte, the captain of the Guard. If they succeeded, then they would be able to go on more dangerous missions and eventually become a personal protector of the king.
Alhon sat down in the room, angry at his performance. It’s this stupid training sword, he kept telling himself, but he knew that his mistake was in his defense. I wish he would let me use it.
It was Kimolthe, the great sword of the Ancient Datharian kings. By a freak accident (Or was it destiny… he would wonder) he had come into the possession of the timeless weapon. And through it, he possessed what was possibly the most powerful energy source in Dathari. The Kingstone, whose existence was also legendary, pumped the energy into him right before it was destroyed. Along with it fell 500 years of tradition and comfort. Now there was a newly elected king, and the army was in the middle of a massive rebuilding.
Two hours passed as student after student tried and failed to defeat Nióte. After the last one failed, Nióte said, “We shall try again next month. You are free to return to your quarters.” Most of the students picked up their gear and headed to the barracks, but Alhon instead walked deeper into the palace. He was privileged to have a private room there, given to him by the King.
As fate would have it, the king, Ond Rithálion, was Alhon’s friend and Master during the Datharian Revolution. Since his election, Ond had to stop training Alhon, and eventually gave Nióte the responsibility, which he has accepted. However, a special connection between Alhon and the king remained.

Alhon walked down the hall, brooding over his loss. “If I just had it,” he kept muttering. He unlocked his room, hung his red cloak over the door handle, and collapsed on the bed. “I will get that promotion,” he said, knowing that he still had a long way to go. “If I only had a partner…” but even as he spoke the words, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. All of his friends were either busy or had returned to their own towns to help in the rebuilding effort. He was about to curl up under to thick covers when his hand brushed against something made of paper. He sat up, picking the object off of the bed. It looked like an envelope. Quickly, it was torn open.
Ugh, he thought. It’s just another summons. He threw it back on the bed. He was to report to King Rithálion tomorrow at noon. Apparently, it had to do with the People’s Forum, the representative ruling commission under the King. He put the letter on the table, changed his clothes, and climbed into the bed. He would find out what this was about tomorrow.
As he put out the light, the sheathed sword in the corner glowed slightly, and then dimmed as he fell asleep.

It was around 8:00 in the morning when he awoke. Just enough time to practice and shower, he thought. He quickly ate a crust of bread that was left over from the previous day, then changed into loose clothes and began stretching out. The warm-ups weren’t bad, but the actual practice was rigorous. He wouldn’t practice for his training fights with Nióte, but instead for an imaginary situation: He was surrounded by six dangerous warriors, trying their best to kill him. While he was fending off their attacks, he had to also protect a helpless ally, who, although armed, was unproven in battle.
The training would go on for hours, while the actual skirmish only lasted about four minutes. He and his ally had to survive, while the warriors had to be fended off or killed. He worked many different ways, but never found a conclusion that he was satisfied with, for the skirmish had already taken place. Four months ago, that very situation came about, and in the most crucial part of the battle, he let his ally down. In a rash decision, he opened a path for an archer. His best friend died as a result.
Every day he would recreate the fight, trying to see what went wrong, what he could have done, and what the outcomes might have been. He also knew that no matter how much he would try, he could not change the past. The crystal that he wore around his neck was a symbol of that.
With her dying breath, she had given the crystal to him, saying that another threat was coming. Although the incident with the Kingstone happened shortly after, he had the feeling that that was not what she was talking about.
Time passed quickly as he concentrated. Sooner than he wished, the hour drew near. He sheathed Kimolthe and changed into more presentable gear. He had no formal clothes, because they had disappeared into the ashes of his former life.
He strapped the sheath holding Kimolthe over his right shoulder, and the ceremonial dagger that was given to him as a gift years ago hung at his right hip, ready to be drawn out at any moment. It was made of pure steel, with gold plating on the handle, making it valuable and yet deadly.
He left his room, walked down the hall, and stepped down the grand staircase that opened into the entrance foyer. Off to his right was the King’s meeting room. He quickly walked over in that direction. When he reached the door, a guard said, “I need to see your summons.”
“Here,” Alhon muttered, as he handed the letter over to the Royal Guard.
“Very well. You may enter,” he said as he opened the door for him.
The room was the highlight of the entire palace. Stained glass windows behind the King’s throne seemed to accent his power, while huge skylights in the room left no shadows during the noon hours. Because of the brightness of the room, he didn’t see the figures that were in the room.
“Good. You have arrived. We have one more visitor coming, so make yourself comfortable.” King Rithálion pointed to some chairs near the throne. As he walked into the room, the brightness faded, and he could see the people seated in them.
There were six chairs, and four of them were occupied. The easiest one to recognize was also the tallest. “Johal!!” He yelled. Johal, with brown hair and eyes, towered over the King with a six-foot-two stature. He walked over to Alhon and embraced him.
“It’s good to see you again,” Johal said. They separated and sized each other up.
“Wow,” Alhon began. “You have some impressive badges.”
In a joking manner, he began bragging, “Well, this is for my promotion, and this is for the Battle of Shathon Forest, and this was my next promotion…” Alhon hit him in the side lightly to make him stop. “Alright! Enough about me. How are you doing in the Guard?”
“Okay, I guess. The training is good, but not as good as Ond’s.”
“At least it’s something. I can’t get that kind of help anymore. I’m expected to follow orders, and sometimes give them. However, I do enjoy it.”
“Yeah, I guess I enjoy the Guard, but we haven’t done anything. I feel like I simply joined a strict recreational fighting club.” Johal was about to respond when the door opened again. Looking back, he saw a figure with golden hair reflecting the sunlight. As she entered the room, more about her became apparent.
Blue eyes framed a delicate face, and a small build hit a fierce determination. She entered the room confidently, standing up straight in the blinding sunlight. Her garments showed her to be from the sea town of Carren, but she wore them loosely, ready to shed them in case of an attack.
“Tharra!” yelled one of the seated figures. The figure stood up and walked over to Tharra, giving her a large hug. Malethia, once Tharra’s master and now leader of the People’s Forum, stood grandly in the light as the sun shone off of her robes. They walked over to the seats and sat down in them as King Rithálion took the throne.
“My friends,” he began, “I have called you here because I want you to do me some favors. First, Malethia has informed me that the Exploration bill has passed the Forum.”
“What’s that?” asked one of the other figures. By the voice, Alhon deduced it to be that of Kelon, another veteran of the battle of Shathon.
“The Exploration Bill was a motion that I began asking for funds and supplies to send out exploration teams into the wilderness surrounding Dathari. Quite obviously, we are not alone in this world. Our history only goes to the first building of Mador. Where did the builders come from?
“There are not enough artifacts from around Dathari to justify our being here forever. Many of the ones in museums are from the cities themselves. The existence of the Halthions and the Shalmathi prove that there are others.”
“According to what little history we do know, the Dathari-Shalmathi wars began due to the Datharian intrusion on their land. This fact brings up another: In order to intrude, the intruders must start someplace else. My intention is to find that someplace else.
“I have no idea what may be found, or if any other communities exist beyond the reaches of Dathari. This is my intention for most of you. I wish to form exploration parties that shall go north, east, and west. Two parties shall go by sea, and one shall go by land. Hothenel, would you explain the rest?”
“Certainly,” he replied. The Shathon veteran and current Advisor to the King On Behalf of the Army stood up. “I intend to split the four of you up for the journey. I have chosen Kelon to go South, and then East, Johal to take a fleet West, and Alhon and Tharra to go north out of the boundary of the land. The way north may be the hardest, as there is almost no knowledge of what’s beyond our borders. As for the Navy expeditions, many of the small islands and other places have been charted. They will get supplies from these islands, and then hopefully continue out of the land. Malethia?”
The Head of the People’s Forum stood up. “The Forum has chosen to give a generous amount of supplies, considering that the knowledge of our land may be a great help in case of another war.”
“Great!” Kelon said, standing up. “When do we leave?”
King Rithálion answered, “As soon as you can, with departure taking place once all of you are ready. I intend that to be a week from today. Alhon, I have already arranged a leave from the Guard for you. Kelon and Johal, I believe that Hothenel has already sanctioned a leave for you. Tharra, I am sorry, but I have to let you take care of your own business. That is why I set a week. If you need to take longer, contact me, but do it as quickly as you can.
“I thank you for your time. You are dismissed.” The King sat down on his throne. All at once, the occupants of the room bowed and walked out of the room into the grand hallway.
Once in the foyer, Alhon asked his friends, “I’m off of training for today. Would any of you care to spar for a few rounds?”
Kelon smiled and said, “I’m definitely in! I haven’t had a good fight in a while!”
“I can’t; I have a few reports to finish today. Perhaps tomorrow.” Johal waved and walked out of the Castle.
“Neither can I,” said Tharra. “I have to get home to prepare for the trip.” She also waved and walked out. Kelon and Alhon were left in the large room alone.
“Let’s go up to my bunk. I need to change, and I can get my equipment.” Alhon and Kelon walked up the main staircase, into the back of the palace.
They walked down the hall to Alhon’s bunk, and once in, Alhon grabbed some loose fitting clothes and pads and changed in the next room. Kelon called with a laugh, “Aren’t you going to wear your robes?”
“No,” Alhon called back. “That means that I have to follow the Code, and I don’t intend to this time. We’re fighting by Camp rules!!”
“All right!!” was the response. Alhon emerged from the next room cloaked in his warrior’s clothes that he kept from the time in Shathon. It was there that it seemed he spent most of his life, although it was only about five months. While hiding there, the warriors used guerilla warfare, striking precisely wherever they felt was appropriate. Along with that philosophy came an open, unrestrained swordplay.
The palace wass not just the residence of the King. It was also the dorms and homes of the Royal Guardsmen-in-training. Around half of the bottom floor of the two story building was dedicated to training and education. Very few people came into the section, unless they were recruiters from the military.
They walked down the hall into the Guardsmen training rooms. It was mostly bare, save a few windows looking into the classrooms and gyms. Alhon found an open one, and reserved it for an hour. The room was bare, like the hall, save some pads on the floor. Kelon walked into the circle and began some warm-up exercises with his sword. Alhon drew Kimolthe and began his set of motions. As he stretched and loosened, the sword began to glow, feeling the adrenaline that Alhon was beginning to pump through his body.
After five minutes, the combatants were ready. With swords drawn and ready, the countdown began. “Ónthe,” said Alhon.
“Dóthe,” replied Kelon.
Together they yelled, “Tráthe!” and rushed at each other. Although they had fought many times before in the camp, it had been four months since then. They considered each other unpredictable.
Kelon struck first, with an upward slash. Alhon easily blocked and countered with a sideswipe. Again, it was easily blocked. A chop swing came from Kelon. Again, it was blocked. This continued for ten minutes, with attackers exchanging blows. With each swing, Kimolthe began to glow brighter until it was brighter than the lamps on the wall.
Finally, Kelon missed a block , and Alhon made a hit on his side. Kelon crumpled to the ground, and Alhon sheathed his sword. As he helped pull Kelon up, a faint patter was heard. He looked around, until he saw the window. Outside, there was a crowd of about eight people watching the match. People are attracted to the sword, Alhon thought, but he realized that they may have come for Kelon as much as for him.
“Do you know these people?” Kelon asked.
“No,” he responded. “They look like newer students, though. Must have liked our performance.” He bent down and handed Kelon’s sword to him. “Would you like to go again?”
“No,” was the response. “I also have to try to pack for my journey. I have it easy to start, though, because I’m in familiar territory until the shore. And even then I’ll be stopping at Frathilos.” The island of Frathilos was a small port that was the originator of the Guloth invaders. However, now it was run as a territory of Dathari. “Well, I’ll be heading to the barracks, so I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Kelon.” Kelon walked out the door and down the hall, out of sight. Alhon also gathered his things and left the room, returning to his bunk for the night.