oghenekome51:
Wow! Wow! Vantee has done it again! Thank u for honouring our request, we are gratefully grateful!

The update was more Dan wonderful and i feel honoured....................

As per Oliver twist tyns nah, bros abeg no vex buh we want more!

You are most welcome ma'am.

Aww, I'm sorry. I might not be able to update for the next few weeks, I have exams coming up but I promise to start updating as soon as vacation commences. Thanks again.

VanTee20:


Wow, your comment has inspired me to write again. I'll be dropping the next update in matter of minutes. Thanks.

which comment will best suite you to give us another immediate update like the last

I'm here again, I'm not with an update though. It's just that today is my birthday and I feel like letting those of you that are still following the story know.

I've been working actively on finishing this story for the past few days and I suppose I'll be through by the end of the day. I might drop an update too before the day runs out but thst's if NEPA brings light.

Happy birthday to you, wishing u all d best in life. Have blast . cheers!!

mhiz:
Happy birthday to you, wishing u all d best in life. Have blast . cheers!!

Thanks Ma'am.

happy birthday

happy birthday boss WULLNP

Happy birthday oga llnp

happy birthday van tee

Happy belated buffdae

Afz9095:
happy birthday boss WULLNP

RICKYMARIO:
Happy birthday oga llnp

ashatoda:
happy birthday van tee

princessadeola:
happy birthday

Tunechi1:
Happy belated buffdae

Thank you all. I appreciate .

Pls more update o, suspense is too much o.

We pray thee VANTEE that thou would hearken to our outcries and quench our thirst of update.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

All was dark and still in a little room at the zenith of the Casvillean northern watch tower where Miguel, an off duty guard of the northern city gate, slept peacefully after an overwhelming day at work. They had recorded an unusually high number of Vavires that day and Miguel, with his colleagues, had undertaken the unenviable tasks of cross checking the goods of the migrant traders for Nacos - contrabands. The most annoying thing was that, in spite of their valiant efforts, they hadn’t succeeded in getting any.

Presently, the erstwhile silence of the night was shattered by a loud, continuous sound of jiggling bells. The sounds of screaming and cursing men drowned whatever remained of the tranquil of the night in the dark waters of oblivion. Miguel, a veritable light sleeper, instantly became awake. He laid there on his bed, listening carefully to the continuous, resonant sounds emanating from outside.

“Danger toll,” He muttered to himself in realization.

Danger toll wasn’t just any sound. It was an ominous sign, a harbinger of ill-fortuned and disastrous news. The last time it was heard in Casville was when the news of King Gavyne’s death reached the city.

Miguel made to get out of his bed immediately in order to go outside to see what was amiss, but to much consternation, he discovered that he couldn’t lift his body off the tiny bed. A strange force in the form of a mammoth weight was on top of him, pinning him down and keeping him bedridden against his wish. Cold sweat broke out on the guard’s body as his fuzzy head attempted to proffer an explanation for this strange phenomenon.

“Help!” Miguel yelled as he squirmed under the huge weight in a pathetic bid to wriggle free. His shout was pathetically muffled by the noise outside.

As if in response to his scream, the weight atop him stirred and rolled off. Instantly, Miguel realized what had transpired and he suddenly couldn’t help but chuckle at his own cowardice. It was Maria, his mistress, who had rolled over him in the course of her sleep and her not inconsiderable weight was the reason for his inability to rise.

Miguel retrieved a match from the bedhead with the help of the moonlight that poured in from the only window in the room and walked over to the lampstand to light a few candles, thus illuminating the room completely. The noise that succeeded the emergency toll was increasing exponentially. Miguel, none too eager to know what the chaos was all about, made for the door without delay. He was going to learn what was going on instantly.

“Why are you not in bed?” Maria yawned her question as she sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily. Miguel’s moving around had apparently woken her.

“Something bad is happening out there. I need to go check.”

“And you are going now, like this?”

Miguel nodded, taking care to avert his eyes from her exposed chest lest he become distracted by the double globes of silk thereat.

“You are overdressed. Take a moment to take some things off,” Maria muttered as she pulled the bed sheet closer and fell back unto the bed to resume her sleep.

“Maundering as . . .”

Miguel cut his rebuke short when he realized that he had only an undergarment on.

“Overdressed indeed,” He chuckled at the irony of Maria’s words as he picked up a robe slung on a nearby chair. He hastily pulled the robe on and bounded out of the room.





* * *

“Helena!” Marcus called out but the only reply he got was the echo of his own voice.

He was in the woods some distance from where the Red knights - the collective name for the group of people who were led away from Cevout by Xesandra - had situated their camp the previous day. After two days of hard riding, they had come to this valley and they had mutually agreed to stay there for a few days before they resumed their journey to Casville since it was clear that the rebels were not interested in chasing them.

Marcus looked wildly around the small area of trees. It wasn’t exactly the safest place to be. He shook his head ruefully as he remembered how he had arrived here. He had been led there by Helena, or more appropriately he had chased after her there.

He had been in his tent, lying on his makeshift bed, relaxing his aching muscles from his exertions of the previous days when Helena stalked in and said,

“I’m going into the woods, follow me if you dare.”

Then she’d gone. At first, Marcus’ unclear head had processed the event as a dream then he realized moments later that it was no dream. You don’t tell yourself you are dreaming in a dream. He had then promptly dashed out of the tent, grabbed the nearest available horse and headed into the woods after her.

“Helena!” He called again. No reply still.

The young warrior cupped his hand and exhaled into it in a gesture of exasperation and despair. He was getting worried, really worried. What if she fell into one of these ditches that appeared intermittently in here? Or if she was attacked by a beast or . . . . By the time he finished checking the little bush nearby for any sign of his missing paramour, he had mentally run through hundreds of ugly things that could have happened to her.

“When did I become this pessimistic?” Marcus asked himself with a dry chuckle. Surely, he thought, love changes a man.

Marcus was just about heading back to camp to seek the help of the other Red knights when he caught sight of a flickering light behind a cluster of pine trees. Without thinking, he raced behind the pines and, to his utmost relief, saw Helena seated in the middle of four burning candles, smiling radiantly to an invisible figure in front of her. She cut the picture of a perpetually happy person with virtually no worries in the world.

“How did you find me?” She asked with the smile still on her face when she noticed Marcus’ presence. He discovered for the first time in the dim lighting provided by the flickering candles that she had a dimple on her left cheek.

“Easy enough, I followed your fragrance.” He said with a shrug. He took care not to look in her eyes when he said that.

“Mhmm.”

“What is this? Your idea of a tryst?” Marcus asked as he walked over to where she sat and eased himself onto the grassy floor beside her.

“We need it, don’t we? We have so much unspoken words between us. I daresay that we have spent far more time kissing than actually talking to each other.”

Marcus let out an audible sigh, “You know, words are most times inadequate to express matters of the heart.”

“That’s right,” Helena concurred. “But in truth, how do you feel about me?”

Marcus’ pale cheeks instantly turned erubescent. He opened his mouth to speak then he stopped, unsure of how best to string the right words together.

Helena stifled a squeal of delight. In a strange way, she enjoyed his general discomfiture and the innocent, embarrassed look on his face. It was particularly a thing of mirth for her that this handsome lad who was good enough to best the finest of knights in the King’s retinue in combats could be brought back to earth by a simple question from her.

“I think. . . I’m sure I’m deeply in love with you,” He said thoughtfully. “At the time I left Austieres, I couldn’t stop blaming myself for not establishing enough correspondence with you. I thought I would never see you again.”

“Tell me, why did you leave?”

“I didn’t want to be found out. I knew if I showed up at the coliseum against Sir Millicent, I would be required to remove my helmet for recognition.”

Helena nodded in agreement. “I didn’t know. I was really mad at you for several days. Then I was mad at myself for some more days for falling in love with you so quickly. I felt my feelings weren’t shared.”

“That’s not true. I love you with the whole of my heart.” Marcus replied quickly. “I wonder if you still feel the same way about me.”

“No,” Helena shook her head with a vacuous stare.

“No?” Marcus repeated incredulously.

She gave a slight nod, “What I feel for you is way stronger than you can imagine. I don’t think I ever told you that I fled from home to look for you here.”

“What? I thought you said you asked Father for the permission to pay a visit to his relatives in the east.”

“I lied. After seeing you at the highlands, I wasn’t going to say anything to widen the gap between us.”

“It’s okay,” Marcus said. “When are you going home?”

“I’ll go when you are ready to come with me.”

“Come with you?”

“Yes. Father has already been making preparations for me to marry Count Ressier. That spiteful man is old enough to be my father. No, I’m not going home till I’m double certain that I’m marrying you.”

“That won’t be any time soon. Marriage is the furthest thing from my mind now.”

“I don’t care. I will stay till you are ready.”

Both lovers lapsed into silence, thinking about the future and what it holds for them. In a sudden movement, Marcus drew close to Helena. He pulled her close and parted his burning lips to accommodate her red, moist ones. For the couple of moments that followed, they kissed away with unimaginable passion.

Suddenly Helena pulled away, a little too abruptly. This was a strange occurrence on its own because Marcus was always the one to break the kisses in their previous sessions. Before Marcus could voice his objection to her sudden withdrawal, Helena let out a blood curdling scream that could well wake up the dead from the pits of hell.

“What’s wrong with you?” Marcus asked as he reflexively grabbed her shoulders to calm her. She didn’t stop screaming, she only responded by pointing her hands over his shoulder to something behind him. Marcus spun, expecting to see the being that was scaring the hell out of his lover.

He saw it, a winged beast with a lion’s head complete with three horns and a mastodon’s body. Add the steel claws, the spiked tail and the deadly fangs and you get it. . . The legendary Negirrel.




* * *

“The hell Miguel, where the deuces did you go? I have been searching everywhere for you,” Lujan called out to his tall colleague as soon as he sighted him bolting towards the parapet where a host of men were gathered.

“Why, I thought the roll says my shift doesn’t start till noon tomorrow,” Marcus shouted back. He stopped running and waited on the spot for Lujan to catch up with him.

“You talk about rolls and shifts?” Lujan scoffed. “The current situation transcends such.”

“Pray, tell me what is happening.”

Lujan was abreast of Marcus now and together, they progressed towards the parapet, “The savages are at our gate. There are over three thousands of them, fully armed, waiting to bring down this city.”

“These savages are stupid. They think because they have Jiarchinn as their leader, they can lay siege or attack Casville of all cities. What foolishness.”

“I won’t say they are stupid,” Lujan reasoned. “I think it is a valid and most sensible military move to attack an opponent when he is most vulnerable. Now tell me the city is not vulnerable. Our king is dead, a greater part of our army is held at Rhodes, fighting a lost cause. There is in fact no better time to attack the city.”

“Still, it is….”

Miguel’s objection was muted by the noisy arrival of Sir Millicent and his right hand man Finn in a carriage. Lord Burth, the general, who had been watching the rebels inch closer from the parapet, promptly walked over to meet the regent.

“General Burth, What is going on?”

“From observation Sir, there are about three thousand men of savage tribe out there. They have forced our gatekeepers to lock the city gates. I presume they are planning to lay a siege on our city. They have about two hundred mangonels and twice that number of archers.”

Sir Millicent scratched his thick side boards lightly, “What do you think our next course of action should be?”

Lord Burth turned to face the parapet again as if looking for answers there. “Well, I’ll say that we should recall the army from Rhodes and maybe seek help from Austieres and Hanzl.”

“No, that will take too much time. By then, these Savages will have gained too much morale for us to handle.”

“We don’t have other options.”

“That doesn’t make this one good,” Sir Millicent insisted. “How many men do we have on hand?”

“A handful, say three hundred or less.”

“Send out your trusted men to gather those men. I’m riding against the Savages in the morn.”

Lord Burth was so shocked that he choked on his reply. Before he could bring himself together to protest against the irrationality of Sir Millicent’s plan, the regent had hopped back into the carriage and left the parapet. Lord Burth watched on in bemusement, he just couldn’t fathom how Sir Millicent intended to defeat an army of three thousand with a paltry three hundred.

Finn too was just as surprised and as the carriage, driven by one of Sir Millicent’s trusted men, headed back to the citadel, he cleared his throat and spoke.

“What’s your plan?”

“What?”

“You are fielding a handful of men against the mighty Savage army,” Finn began. “I know you well enough to conclude that you have other plans in place already. I’m simply asking about them.”

Sir Millicent laughed long and hard. “Is it so unbelievable that three hundred men could go against an army ten times their number? Why, didn’t one of the old Jewish judges pull something like that off? Gabriel or what’s his name?”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, “Gideon had divine help in that battle. I fail to see where your help is coming from since you have declined to send distress call to Austieres and other neighbouring cities.”

“You are forgetting that we have help too, my friend,” Sir Millicent said gleefully. “We have the Phantoms. Lady Suzannah has released their control to me. I can use them at will now.”

“Ah, that’s terrific, but again, will a council that is headed by a Reverend father agree to use magical creatures in battle.”

“I don’t intend to seek their approval. They won’t know what I’m doing. I will simply ask Lady Suzannah to make them invisible tomorrow, then I’ll lead them with available men against the savages.”

Finn shook his head in awe. Sir Millicent had never ceased to amaze him. He remembered the first time he had seen him at the rebel camp at Cevout. He had been so full of dark ideas, schemes and tact that he had wondered if there was a man with a darker heart and a craftier head anywhere under the sun. It’s been eight years since then and with each passing day, Sir Millicent seemed to get better or worse, depending on which angle you were looking at him.

“Tomorrow,” Sir Millicent continued dreamily. “We will have our names boldly writ in gold in the annals of history of this city. We are going to become living legends.”

Donpeteranking:
Pls more update o, suspense is too much o.

Easy4reel:
We pray thee VANTEE that thou would hearken to our outcries and quench our thirst of update.

Done sirs, I'm sorry for the delay.

Thanks godbless u. but next....

Donpeteranking:
Thanks godbless u. but next....

Next is on monday. . . Thanks sir.

VanTee20:

Next is on monday. . . Thanks sir.

. Make it long. thanks again 4 d update.

......seems as though I read 'the piece' with speed of light or did I miss something? Hell No!

Many suspenses here....hope not all the crystal's revelation will come true o


Nice update bro but u know 'WE WANT MORE OF YOU(in sinach's voice)'

Easy4reel:
......seems as though I read 'the piece' with speed of light or did I miss something? Hell No!

Many suspenses here....hope not all the crystal's revelation will come true o


Nice update bro but u know 'WE WANT MORE OF YOU(in sinach's voice)'

Is that a way of saying the last update was short?

I hope so too...

I should have dropped a few more updates but I'm having a challenge with my laptop's screen or flex, I'm not sure which one. I'm afraid my hands are tied for the moment.

VanTee20:


Is that a way of saying the last update was short?

I hope so too...

I should have dropped a few more updates but I'm having a challenge with my laptop's screen or flex, I'm not sure which one. I'm afraid my eyes are tied for the moment.

Guy abeg do something very soon na abeg u go kil person o.biko in thy namd of oLuwa

Donpeteranking:

Guy abeg do something very soon na abeg u go kil person o.biko in thy namd of oLuwa

Alright sir, I'll see what I can do.

Thanks sir.

VanTee20:

Alright sir, I'll see what I can do.
Thanks sir.

Thank you,but what ever you do(in merlins dragon's voice) BE FAST

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

In a fluid movement of his elegant arm, Lord Bradeigh clapped a black, velvet capotain on his balding dome as he strode out of the premises of the Casvillean citadel into the bubbling Royale street. The move turned out to be of some shrewdness as it saved the nobleman's crown from being scorched by the sweltering rays of the mid-day sun.

Lord Bradeigh piaffed like a lazy horse down the most important street in Casville, his destination being the twin buildings at the end of the street that served as stables for the aristocrats.

"Lord Bradeigh, are you headed to Maine?" A deep, firm voice queried from behind him.

Lord Bradeigh turned to see a man with chubby cheeks and sagging jowls, poking his head out of the window in a compartment of a luxury caravan across the street. He was Lord August, a noble and a prominent member of the Council.

Lord Bradeigh was indeed going to Maine and past experiences showed that Lord August was a most enjoyable travelling company. The last time he had been in that caravan, he had been treated to varieties of excellent food, exotic drinks and delightful girls. Lord Bradeigh decided to decline the tempting offer, he really needed a clear head today.

"No, I'm going to Rosewood," He said instead.

"See you at the next meeting then," Lord August's voice echoed as he withdrew his fat head from sight and the caravan resumed its ride down the street.

Whistling casually, Lord Bradeigh proceeded to the stables to retrieve his white mare and then began a slow, leisurely ride to Maine, taking an alternate route to the one he presumed Lord August's caravan will take.

As he rode further away from the capital of Nersea, his mind drifted from the winding, dusty road and the tall shrubs that lined themselves on its sides, to the happenings of the last few hours. Some crucial events had occured within that short frame of time. Events that brought him tantalizingly close to the future he had always craved.

In the early hours of the morning, the Queen, the last surviving member of King Gavyne's immediate family, had passed away. According to the results of the necropsy conducted by Carlen, the royal physician, she had died from the heavy grief of her husband's death and her son's disappearance. Lord Bradeigh knew, of course, that Carlen's report was anything but true. He was there when Sir Millicent paid three thousand Ciblis to the physician's assistant to poison the monarch.

Some hours later, Sir Millicent raised himself to the status of a god in the sight of Casvillean denizens as he performed a legendary feat of leading a sally with a handful of men against the myriad of savage soldiers and crushing them completely. He further consolidated the already inconceivable victory by beheading Jiarchinn, the infamous savage warlord and delivering the severed head to the Council.

Not very long ago, the council members sat and unanimously agreed to crown Sir Millicent the king of Casville and by extension, the emperor of Nersea. The decision was supposedly triggered by the death of the Queen and Sir Millicent's heroics against the men of savage descent.

Lord Bradeigh was crudely brought back to the present by the noisy approach of a rider behind him. The nobleman half turned in saddle to see a large, clean shaven man dressed in a brown kirtle and matching pantaloons, riding a black stallion towards him.

"Oh Finn, what are you doing this part?" Lord Bradeigh requested.

Finn did not reply until he had gotten considerably close enough. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Why? You have something for me?"

"Not me exactly. I'm on Lady Suzannah's errand," Finn replied, his facial expression going dark as he mouthed his next statement. "She sent me to kill you."

* * *

"Run Helena!" Marcus yelled at his leman, who stood rooted to the spot, apparently awestruck by the beastly creature flying towards them.

The Negirrel bared his deadly fangs and wicked looking teeth at the couple. An action that triggered motion in the unwilling Helena. She ran mindlessly towards the woody end of the thicket, then she stopped abruptly.

"Aren't you coming?" She yelled her question.

"Just go, I'll see you in camp."

"I can't leave without you," Helena maintained stubbornly.

"Be sensible, Helena. You being here will only get us both killed."

"Let her stay if she wants. No one is to die, at least not yet," A very familiar voice said behind Marcus. The young warrior took his eyes off his shaken girl and planted it on a bald, middle aged man dressed in an all black attire.

"Malzene! Thank goodness," Marcus said, brightening.

D'Aubriere didn't look as pleased about the reunion. He only gathered his coat around himself and spoke, indicating the Negirrel with a simple nod, "That means a lot of trouble."

"I understand. Perhaps you could help me fend it off with magic and save some bloodshed."

Malzene shook his head slowly, "Alas, it's not here to fight you. It's presence is a divine sign."

Marcus' confused look sufficiently betrayed the fact that he didn't quite follow.

"You seeing the Negirrel now is a sign that you have failed the gods," Malzene continued. "You have disappointed them with your unseriousness with the tasks assigned to you."

Marcus looked more confused for a few moments, then he suddenly seemed to understand, "Oh! I should have gone to the monastry at Carzef to get the sword. I'm sorry. I got caught up with other issues. I can go for it right away."

Malzene shook his head, again, "It's too late. Another man has been given the task to complete."

Marcus looked incredulously at his guide.

"Furthermore, the gods have spoken imprecations upon you. You are accursed for the rest of the days you spend in Casville."

"I can't believe this, how can you let this happen?"

"I have no say in the judgements of the greater beings. I am merely a conveyor of their messages."

"Can't something be done about this?"

"I'm afraid nothing can be done. The only advise I can offer is for you to return to your village to avoid incurring the wrath of the gods any further. Fare thee well, mortal." D'Aubriere said and he instantly faded away from Marcus' sight.

The Negirrel too flew off almost instantly, leaving a disconsolate Marcus and Helena alone in the clearing.

"What now?" Helena asked concernedly.

"You heard him, I have to leave Casville," Marcus replied coldly.

"Where will you go?"

Marcus let out a dry chuckle, "You know, I didn't fall from the sky, I came from somewhere."

"I thought we could. . ."

"Will you just shut up for a while and afford me some thinking time!"

Helena winced. That surely got to her. While she understood that he was in a most unfortunate situation, still she felt that the tantrum was highly uncalled for.

"Never mind then. I will give you plenty thinking time," She declared as she turned her back on him and began to stalk away. "More than you'll know what to do with."

"Where are you going?"

Helena gave no reply. Marcus watched on in rueful amusement as she walked away till she vanished into the woods. He shouldn't have let her go, he knew, but he just didn't feel like he cared anymore. Maybe it was because of Malzene's revelation or maybe he was suddenly sick of having her around or maybe he felt she was one of the reasons he failed in his duty to the gods or maybe. . . Those were possiblities anyways. Only one thing did he know for sure.

He was screwed, big time.

* * *

Lord Bradeigh was stunned. "Why? What wrong did I do?"

"I wouldn't know. All I have is the order to put you down."

"Bu. . But you won't do it right?" Lord Bradeigh asked in a quavering voice. "I'll double her price and leave the city, please."

"Good offer but I can't take the chance. You're not the type I can trust."

"Please Finn, I'll give you everything I own. Just spare."

"No. I . ."

Finn's speech was muted by an unexpected move by Lord Bradeigh. The Lord, who had all the while been crazily brainstorming on how to get out of the deadly situation unscathed, finally settled for a seemingly brilliant idea. He had slipped his hand stealthily into his coat to retrieve a sabre, then in a swift movement, he had buried it in his assailant's chest.

"Scoundrel!" Finn cursed as he experienced a surge of acute pain in his chest. He struggled to maintain his balance in saddle with one hand holding the reins and the other on his bleeding chest. Lord Bradeigh followed up by elbowing Finn in the face, sending him tumbling off his horse onto a huge heap on the sandy floor.

Lord Bradeigh didn't wait to finish off his adversary. He was only intent on getting out of the villian's reach as quick as possible. He violently spurred his horse on, galloping speedily down the dusty road towards the woods.

Finn scrambled up. Lord Bradeigh's unprecedented move had certainly done more than shock him, he thought as he cast his expert eyes on his wound for examination. The sabre had opened a deep gash just above his left breast. A few inches down and the blade would have pierced his heart.

"Not so fast," Finn mumbled as he reached over his shoulder to retrieve his crossbow. He drew the bow and calmly trained his eyes on the hard riding Lord who was almost out of his sight now. Finn knew that he had just one shot and he'd better not miss. Finn drew a deep breath and fired.

He did not miss. The arrow caught Lord Bradeigh in the back of the neck. The nobleman gave a pitiful cry of pain as he fell headlong off his horse's back. Finn walked over to where his victim lay, bleeding profusely from the mouth as he struggled to speak through the excruciating pain barrier.

"Te. . . Tell. . Suza. . ."

"Scoundrel!" Finn repeated as he released another shot betwen Lord Bradeigh's eyes, silencing him forever.

THE END OF CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

is dis story still on?

VanTee baba, very good to hear from this story again

vickkydgreat:
is dis story still on?

It is, sir.

stuff46:
VanTee baba, very good to hear from this story again

It's good to hear from you too bro.

This is interesting... Good job!

honourable356:
This is interesting... Good job!

Thanks sir.