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A Legend, Act II

Act II: Gerryn

He rested quietly, but his soul did not. The terror he had seen at his old village stilled haunted him. He felt deep down in his soul that he was destined to right what had gone wrong. There had to be a way to stop all of this senseless violence in the world. He only wondered how he was going to do that. He would need support from many people who felt the same way he did: to rid the world of violence and suffering. Especially the suffering. It was those that were left behind in the aftermath of any destruction that suffered the worst. They had to keep going, even when they didn’t want to. Even when all they wanted to do was to lie down and die with their loved ones that had been mercifully been saved from the terror of having to look upon dead friends and family and suffer every day. He wanted to end that.

He thought for a moment, thinking of a way to solve that problem. As he considered various solutions, he found that all of the acts of violence were caused by people who were not civilized, or the people who pretended to be civilized. You could tell with those people whether they were civilized or not. You could see it in their eyes, all of their evil intentions, for the eyes were the window to the soul. What the face could hide the eyes revealed.

He realized then that there was no way he could gain peace by talking with barbarians. Even if he did and he somehow got them to agree on some sort of treaty they would still attack, just because they can. Just like the emperor did. The only thing barbarians understood was brute force. To make a world of peace you have to use violence against violence. It was the only way, as much as he abhorred it, but they had given him no choice. There was no other way.

He would have to start searching for others like him. Other people who desired peace. He would be able to give that to them. Only if they followed him would they be able to achieve their common goal. Only he would know how to make their dreams come true.

***

Strite sat on a wooden crate looking out toward the horizon with his elbows on the rail and his chin in his hands.

Cheer up, Strite, Danae had said. It won’t be that bad. Besides, didn’t you always want to go on a sea voyage?

Now Strite was beginning to regret his words. Sure he loved the sea and he loved ships, but he was bored out of his mind. He had already drilled Asyria on the Blood Paladin and what Gerryn was like and all of the sailors had already told him how to handle every inch of the ship during the first two months of the voyage, but that was it. He couldn’t practice his swordplay(he might accidentally cut something), her couldn’t play his recorder(besides he had forgotten to bring that), and he couldn’t talk to anyone(all of the sailors were busy and the Gerryns couldn’t understand him very well because of his heavy Symterran accent).

“Strite?”

It was Asyria. Strite really didn’t feel like talking to her but he turned around anyway. Strite was completely shocked. The princess that he knew was gone. In her place was a warrior ready for battle. She wore white pants rather than leggings like him, gauntlets on her arms, and a shield and sword strapped to her back. There the similarities ended. She wore the royal blue and gold tunic of her country, a beautifully colored sash around her waist for a belt, and black boots. Strapped to her left leg was a sheath and dagger.

Before Strite could ask or say anything Asyria held out an recorder. “Danae told me that you enjoy playing the recorder. I saw this before we left and bought it after you started complaining that you forgot yours.”

Strite took the musical instrument form the Gerryn princess. “Uh, thank you, your Highness.”

Asyria shook her head. “Please. Call me Asyria. We are working together on this as two Champions, not as Champion and princess.”

Strite nodded. “I can understand that. You don’t want any gaps between us.”

“Well, as little gaps as possible,” Asyria admitted.

Strite felt something. It wasn’t danger but it was definitely wrong. He suddenly felt sick. The Champion dropped the recorder and pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead. He pitched forward and would have fallen over if Asyria hadn’t had been there.

“Strite! Are you all right?!”

He could hear Asyria’s worried voice and tried to respond. Just as suddenly as the sickness had come it passed. Strite realized that his face was on something soft and warm. He opened his eyes a little and saw what was cushioning him. It was Asyria. He scrambled back , his face red.

Asyria was alarmed by his bright re face. “Strite! Can you breathe?”

Strite nodded his head emphatically.

“Then what’s wrong?”

Strite sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly. He could feel the heat fading away from his face. “I just felt sick for a moment,” he managed. He saw the recorder he dropped and picked it up. “Thank you for the recorder...Asyria.”

Asyria smiled. “I’m glad you like it.” Her face grew serious again. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Strite nodded again. “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

Asyria left the Champion on the deck, calling back over her shoulder, “We’ll be there soon! About another two hours to Gerryn!”

Strite groaned in despair.

***

Asyria stood on the deck and breathed in the sea air. She could see Gerryn off to the right on the horizon.

Strite pointed to the land on the horizon. “Is that Gerryn?”

Asyria nodded. “Yes, the home of dragons.”

“And faeries,” Strite added.

“And faeries,” Asyria echoed. “You would have loved it, Strite. Before the Blood Paladin came our kingdom was much like Symterra. It was peaceful, beautiful, and the people! Oh, the people were wonderful! So kind and giving, even to a stranger.”

“Sounds like Symterra,” Strite commented with a smile.

“Look!” The Gerryn princess pointed to the land mass on the horizon, which was closer now. “We’re almost there!”

The ship came closer and a wharf was soon apparent. There were people waiting on the dock for them. It appeared as if they were preparing for a celebration for everything was decorated.

“This port is perhaps one of the last safe cities in all of Gerryn,” Asyria told Strite. She turned toward the Legendary Champion. “Strite, my duty as princess of my people comes first, then my duty as Champion. I want to get as many of my people out of Gerryn first before any more deaths occur.”

“I understand...Asyria.” Strite was still having trouble adjusting to calling the princess ‘Asyria,’ but he did feel less of a gap between them.

The ship idled into the port and slowly came to a stop at a dock. Suddenly, the whole ship was in a bustle and before they knew it Strite and Asyria were on the dock with the people.

The people of Gerryn showered Asyria with gifts of flowers and trinkets. One old couple even gave the princess their wedding bands. When Asyria tried to give them back the old couple insisted that she keep them. Asyria gracefully accepted the gifts.

Strite was astounded. He had never seen so much love and devotion of a people to a ruler. The people clearly loved their princess and would stop at next to nothing to help her. The Gerryns were even kind to him. They gave him small trinkets: one for good luck, another for a safe journey, and another for protection. The people were curious about his ears, since they were so much larger than theirs. He let them touch his ears and several of them were asking questions.

“What are they asking?” Strite inquired. “They’re speaking too fast. I...I can’t understand them.”

“They’re asking if you want your ears pierced,” Asyria answered.

“My ears pierced?!” Strite repeated, shocked. “Why?!”

Asyria only shrugged. “Custom among our people,” she replied with a wink.

The people celebrated all night and continually called Strite ‘the Symterran Champion’ in his own language, which irritated him a little.

Asyria blessed the town and wished it health at the beginning of a party of some sort. The people cheered and began to celebrate.

Strite felt in his heart that it had been the right thing to come to Gerryn. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to hurt these wonderful people. The Champion frowned. He still had that odd feeling that something wasn’t right but ignored it. He was enjoying the festivities and wasn’t going to let anything spoil it.

When morning came Asyria and Strite packed as many provisions that they could carry and left the small port. It wasn’t until they traveled further inland did Strite realize that Gerryn was getting steadily worse.

Strite still had that weird feeling that something was wrong and when he and Asyria finally stopped for camp did he give the feeling some thought. Nothing came to mind so he slept.

***

“Your Highness, I think you had probably come with me.”

Curious, Danae followed Balthasar to the library. “What did you find?”

Balthasar led her to a table in the far back where books were spread all over the place. He pointed to an open book. “Read.”

Danae sat down and read. It was about the Kingdom of Gerryn. It had fallen years ago and no longer existed. It had been taken over by an invading army centuries before. Hardly any of the people of Gerryn survived.

Something on the next page caught her eye. It was an old portrait of the royal family. She recognized the king and queen and the princess.

“They’re all dead!” she whispered. She looked up at her advisor. “But they’re here! How is that possible?”

Balthasar sighed. “My guess would be magic.”

“They used magic to jump forward into time?” Danae asked.

“If you think about it, princess, it makes perfect sense,” Balthasar pointed out. “What better way to protect your people than to send them to the future to other countries that you know are safe?”

“Yes,” Danae agreed. “It does make sense.”

There was a moment of silence before either of them spoke.

“We’re still going to help them,” Danae declared, a challenge to Balthasar if he dared to disobey her.

“Of course,” Balthasar agreed with a slight bow.

Danae stared out into nothingness. “What have I done, Strite?!” she whispered. “I’ve sent you back in time with a princess that has been long dead to help her save a kingdom that no longer exists!” She turned toward Balthasar. “What do we do?”

The advisor shook his head. “There is nothing we can do, princess. We can only pray that Strite is returned to us.”

“Will the Gerryns let Strite go?” Danae wondered.

“They will,” Balthasar reassured her. “ ‘Though they are war-like the Gerryns are, forgive me, were very peaceful people.”

“I pray that you are right, Balthasar.”

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