Chapter Thirteen: The Descendants

“How much longer!”

The tired and whining voice emerged from the lips of Lor, the prince of the sea, as he plopped himself down beside a tree, pressing his back against it and grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes.

The other members of their group merely stared at him in disdain, having listened to the complaining voice of their companion for the past two days, trying to keep straight faces and not to complain. However, one member decided to speak up.

“Maybe if you stopped complaining so much and moved a little faster, we would already be there you worthless sea rat!” hissed Dran, the dwarven descendant.

While the other's had chosen to forego wearing their armour for the long journey, instead storing them in the enchanted amulets they wore around their necks that were made for such a purpose, Dran did no such thing.

For a dwarf, wearing what they had forged themselves showed the world what they are truly capable of and Dran was capable of much. His midnight armour fitted his frame perfectly, almost engulfing him in black metal. But despite that, the armour did not make a sound as he moved, a testament to the skill he held in the world of blacksmithing. As always his large axe, Drogna's Edge, named for his great-grandfather, hung on his back from a piece of black, enchanted leather.

Lor rolled his eyes at the dwarf and sneered. “Say what you wish dwarf, but we both know that the reason we are taking so long is because a worthless metal mage like you is holding us up.”

Dran glowered at the half-elf, wanting to cave in his pretty face with the flat of his axe.

Technically, Lor was correct. Dran could do little to enhance his movement speed with his specialisation in metal manipulation, but his prodigious ability in earth allowed him to use it to move him swiftly across the ground. Lor was merely trying to get a rise out of the young dwarf, and it was working.

“How about I teach you some respect, you ignorant piece of shit!” roared Dran as he easily unsheathed Drogna's Edge and skimmed across the ground towards the smirking half-breed, his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Lor continued to smirk even as the blade came down on his head, but before it could make impact, the man suddenly twisted and rolled to the side.

Dran's axe collided with the ground with tremendous force, ripping apart the dirt and sending a rumbling tremor through the earth. He spun and pulled his weapon free throwing his inhibition to the wind and giving into instinct and rage, a distinct aspect of the berserk fighting style that the dwarf's were well known for.

Lor was already on his feet and moving backwards as Dran followed him, his axe a tornado of death as he whirled it around his body and roared with bitter fury, his aura growing larger as he began to draw in the mana from his environment.

His strength increased ten fold as he used aspect of metal, his skin turned to the dark, shining grey of Garalthum and his strides began to rip up the earth beneath him as he continued to chase the annoyance that is Lor.

The man in question continued to make his way backwards, avoiding each slash of the axe by a hairsbreadth, a confident smile still on his face, his hands remaining in the pockets of his fine trousers.

As the seconds passed, Dran began to get more and more anxious 'why isn't he attacking?' he thought as Lor continued to move away.

Lor was not as well versed as the other descendants in using magic, a result of his constant focus on sword play, and had only just begun to train with water element control. But he had inherited the strength and speed of an elf which, in itself, was something to be feared. While he couldn't take a direct hit from Dran his speed allowed him to move slightly faster than the dwarf and he did so with the grace of an experienced warrior, his expression of smug confidence never wavering, even in the face of the of the metal-covered dwarf.

Suddenly, Lor came to complete stop and instead moved forward. Right into the path of the descending blade of Drogna's Edge. Dran smiled and prepared to wipe the smirk off the face of the ignorant sea rat.

But, unfortunately, that didn't happen.

Lor's hand touched the amulet on his neck, pressing against the sigil and calling forth the blade that had been gifted to him by his father. His hand shimmered for a split second before a wickedly curved scimitar appeared in his hands, slicing through the air and deflecting the large axe with the lightest of touches.

Dran lost balance as sparks flew, ignited by the meeting of the two blades and he fell forwards slightly, managing to stomp a foot into the ground to prevent himself from fully falling.

But the opening was all that Lor needed.

The half-elf moved through the air with a grace that took one's breath away as dashed to the back of the dwarf, seemingly disappearing as he moved behind Dran. The dwarf could only gasp in shock as Lor brought his sword down and slashed across Dran's back, a look of intense concentration on his handsome face.

The dwarf merely chuckled at the effort. While Lor might be the superior when it came to close combat, his lack of magical ability would be his downfall against someone who had mastered his control over his element.

He was therefore surprised when he felt another slash connect with his back, and another and another... seven slashes all collided with the black plate of his armour and he felt himself fall forwards as the combined strength of the strikes sent him to the ground. The strikes happened within moments of each other, impossibly fast, even with air magic.

He rolled as much as his body would allow and jumped to his feet, only to find Lor chasing him now, jumping into the air and bringing his sword down with terrific force.

Dran raised his axe and blocked the strike, feeling the vibrations of strength run through the shaft of Drogna's Edge as he pushed against the blade and sent Lor flying backwards. However, when Lor's sword connected with his axe Dran felt himself be struck all over his body six more times and while his skin may be metal, that didn't mean that made him invulnerable. While the blade couldn't pierce his skin he could feel the force behind the strikes causing his bones to shake with pain.

Lor, meanwhile, had gone with the momentum of Dran's push and flipped through the air before landing gracefully on the ground. He stood slightly to the side, his blade held almost negligently in his hand as he smiled once again at the dwarf.

“Do you wish to continue, angry little man. Or do you wish to concede the fight?” Lor grinned as he asked the question, the smile of a shark.

Dran looked warily at his opponent and his anger reached new heights as he began to draw in more mana, calling to his element for aid, preparing to destroy this pitiful excuse for a Knight Descendant.

Lor saw the action and sighed before pushing off with one foot, speeding towards the dwarf.

“Then I guess I'll just have to teach you some respect!” Lor echoed as his grin turned malicious.

Dran roared bloody fury as the ground erupted around him, metal rising to the surface, sharp and wickedly dark as he too dashed forwards, using his control over the earth to propel himself over the hard ground.

However as the two were about to meet, their blades inches from touching, another dashed into the battle and they both felt themselves blown backwards by a blast of air.

Thrown through the air, Lor and Dran landed hard and stared at the interloper, before glaring at each other.

“That is enough!” said Mahalis, his silver armour seeming to glow in the faint light of the new day as his hand was wrapped firmly around his inheritance, The Angelis.

The blade was enough to worry both Lor and Dran. They had both heard the stories, both knew that the sword had killed thousands when in the hands of Knight Marwen and they knew the son of the elven Queen was no pushover either.

After a tense moment of silence, the two stared at each other before standing down. Dran stopped drawing in mana and Lor put his sword away.

“I will stand down, Mahalis, but only because Knight Marwen made you the commander of this mission. I do not want that wretched piece of seaweed anywhere near me in the future.” seethed Dran between gritted teeth as he walked away, disappearing into the treeline of the forest, most likely to try and cool off.

Lor watched the dwarf go before he turned to the elven prince, his usual, playful smile on his face.

“Sorry about that Mahalis! You know how it goes, friends fight sometimes.”

Mahalis stared at the descendant of Faral for a split second before turning away and sighing, the fingers of his left hand pinching his nose as he tried to centre himself, as his father had taught him too.

“Lor, you antagonize Dran on purpose because you're bored. You've been doing it since we left Callai and don't think I haven't noticed. If you spoke to me like you speak to him, I would've snapped too.”

The prince of the sea merely gave a shrug and chuckle before heading back to his tree and taking a seat

“Let me know when you want to move out, I can't wait to get my hands on the King's sword!” The half-elf said enthusiastically, almost rubbing his hands together with glee at the prospect of holding the Xolumbrandir.

“That's not...” Mahalis started. But he stopped, realising it was pointless, and turned, heading back towards where the lady Kara and his entourage were waiting for him.

He had tried to explain to Lor many times over the course of the last two days that they would not be touching the sword, merely making sure it was safe. But Lor would have none of it, it went in one ear and out the other with the talented swordsman.

'At least I managed to stop them from killing each other' the elf thought to himself silently.

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While the Knight Descendants were supposed to be the embodiment's of the Knight's of the Rebel Court, camaraderie was something that didn't come easily between the four of them.

Lor and Dran had been at each other's throats since they arrived in Callai to prepare to begin the pilgrimage, but it was Kara who seemed the most distant. She barely spoke to the others, even ignoring the royal guard that mother had sent along with them. Instead, she practised swordplay and magic, constantly, almost to the point of it being unhealthy.

Her sense of duty towards being a Knight Descendant was something to be admired but she could at least smile every now and again.

As these thoughts flittered through his mind Mahalis found himself standing in front of the girl in question and, for some reason, he immediately blushed and looked away.

'Gods, why does she have to stare at me like that? like she's looking into my soul.' Mahalis swallowed his discomfort and brought his gaze upwards to meet Kara's once again.

The pale blue eyes met him without a hint of discomfort, the hilt of Furela poking over her right shoulder as her hair moved in the slight breeze that flowed through the forest.

“Can I... can I help you with something, Lady Kara?” Mahalis stuttered as he gave an awkward bow to the woman and then, realising how stupid that was, immediately straightened up and stared at a tree that was conveniently located beyond her left shoulder.

“Yes, I would like to congratulate you on stopping the fight between the idiot Lor and the proud dwarf. If you had not stepped in, they would have taken each other's lives. That I believe is a certainty.” She said, blinking once, her face showing no other movement apart from that. Like her entire body was carved from a piece of ice, unmoving and unyielding.

Also incredibly beautiful.

Mahalis began to laugh awkwardly and scratched the back of his head, his face becoming even redder as Kara's compliment made him both joyous and incredibly uncomfortable at the same time.

For years now he had been trying to make her his betrothed. He sent her flowers, weapons, ancient tomes on magic and even expensive jewellery that he had purchased himself. However, all of the gift's were returned in short order and he was trying his damnedest to figure out what exactly he had to do to make this girl agree to marry him.

“Thank... thank you, Kara, that means a lot coming from you. I just did what any other commander would have done, you know... the usual... things...” His reply tapered off as he suddenly realised that he had no idea what to say next.

“I see. Well, you are most welcome but we should get moving soon. I've heard that this particular road through Fevero forest is extremely dangerous at night, we should not risk losing any of the guard or one of our number to something that could be avoided... you should also stop leaning on your sword, it is sentient, like my own, and does not like to be treated as a mere tool.” She finished abruptly before walking backwards towards the group of soldiers that lay idle at the side of the rather small path.

Realising his gaff, the elf cursed to himself and stopped using his ancient blade, handed to him by his mother, as a mere leaning post. He felt The Angelis send a hiss of disapproval into his mind before it closed itself off to him completely.

With a sigh, Mahalis slid the blade back into the sheath on his belt and made his way forwards, now more anxious than ever to be on his way.

While he couldn't really understand why Kara wasn't interested in him, that wouldn't stop him from trying and he needed to make sure he impressed her on this trip and the long pilgrimage around the continent that followed. He had time to make up for his idiotic mistake.

With a shout he got the attention of Lor and his men, who began to make their way forwards, drawing mana as they prepared to run full tilt towards their goal in Ellai and hopefully escape the rather daunting tree's of the Fevero forest.

Mahalis would have chosen another path but this one was the the quickest and his mother had insisted on speed above all else. He also thought about her last instructions, on how if they saw someone wielding the Xolumbrandir they should run to Knight Cinder for assistance and pray that the one who held it did not follow.

But Mahalis was not one for running, a fact his mother should have realised by now. He was no longer a child to be coddled, but a young man who had recently reached his one hundred and third year. He was a mage and a swordsman, as well as the son of two of the greatest warriors who had ever lived.

The other members of their band also boasted distinguished backgrounds and training in all forms of combat. The group of twenty strong royal guard were trained to protect the king and queen from all danger, magical or physical. With their aid, he was sure that they could defeat whatever this threat was and ensure Xolumbrandir was still contained within the King's tower.

With a grin at the possible chance to prove himself, Mahalis saw Dran move out of the woods and join their retinue, his face impassive and almost as unreadable as Kara's.

Now that they were all gathered, it was time to head onwards towards Ellai and their destiny.

* * *

The Descendants sped through the forest faster than would be normally possible. Their magic bolstered them, made them speed across the ground like bolts from a crossbow as they seemed to fly, barely touching the earth beneath them with Mahalis in the lead.

The sun had just reached it's apex and while they couldn't exactly enjoy the beautiful scenery of the bewitching forest, each and every one of the members of the group were feeling a sense of unease and excitement.

Before long they would break through the forest and get to the beginning of the narrow mountain path that led through the Cold Shears. From there it was only a few hours to their destination. The group had already decided to travel through the night and reach Ellai as morning broke.

While all of them had heard the stories of the ancient city, the greatest of it's time and the hub of The Rebel Court, not one of the Knight Descendants had been there. It was always the last stop on the pilgrimage, the first being the Elven city of Callai, then onwards to the Red Citadel. From there they would make their way to Paltos, then Faroth, before finishing in the Dwarven lands of Holduren.

It was customary to return to Ellai after they had finished paying their respects to the six Knight's of the Rebel Court and finally go to the hidden city. There they would pledge their lives to the Rebel King and his goals before heading towards The Spires, a school located in the far south of Mytos.

It was there that they would complete their training and work as one body to become Knight Descendants worthy of their blood. They would be ambassadors and generals, settling disputes throughout Vita and fighting together, if the need ever arise.

But there had been no need in almost four hundred years.

Now the position was mostly a ceremonial one. Where they visited, huge festivals were held that overshadowed everything else. It was a way to bring people together under one banner. Seeing the best and brightest of their nations working towards maintaining the peace that had taken the King's life.

Mahalis smiled as he thought of eventually going to The Spires, the most prestigious magical academy on the continent. It was founded by Knight Heilvol and while he couldn't use magic he knew that having a school that would accept all races and teach magic without the prejudice that was inspired by the church, could only lead to good things for the future of the Vita.

Plus it helped include Mytos in the pilgrimage somewhat, as they were the final stop. While a predominantly human dominated society dwell there, every race could be found in the advanced country. Something that not every nation in Vita could boast.

Much of the hatred between the races still exist, but there is hope and that is enough. Hope can help you though the dark and they were already through the worst of it. The church was gone and the world at peace. Now was the time to heal.

Mahalis smiled, his mother used to say things like that all the time.

It was as he was distracted that he noticed a figure step out into the middle of the road.

Mahalis let out a gasp, as did all the other members of the retinue, before he immediately stopped drawing in mana and threw himself to the side.

He heard a cry of alarm come from the figure as it raised trembling hands. Shaking so badly that it seemed to be a leaf about to be carried from a tree.

Mahalis soared through the air ,missing the figure by centimetres, manipulating the wind with his magic to soften his fall. Thinking quickly, he also managed to wrap up the rest of the Descendants who were unable to slow themselves without the use of air magic. He could only hope that the royal guard were capable of stopping themselves in a similair manner. He did not have the power to stop twenty four people moving at such speeds.

He cursed himself for not getting better acquainted with the soldiers abilities.

As he brought himself to a stop and released his hold on the others he jumped to his feet and began to pace towards his soldier's, who seemed to be behind a wall of dust that had risen from the road. Fearing that the person on the road was a mage, Mahalis grasped at the Angelis and continued to stride forwards, worry in his heart at possibly having caused their deaths through his own idiocy.

“Sergeant Hilin! Can you hear me!” Mahalis shouted, his pace never slowing as he made his way towards the cloud.

He began to hear the sounds of fighting within that lasted all of a few seconds before a figure strolled out of the fog, wearing the familiar surcoat of the royal house of Vermalia.

Mahalis couldn't help but give a gasp in relief and crossed the rest of the distance in a moment between himself and the soldier.

“Sorry, your highness, none here can use air magic so I used earth to slow us down, although some of the men have broken bones, they can be easily healed.” Hilin spoke fast as she stood at attention before her prince, eyes fixed forwards.

Using earth magic to stop twenty soldiers at once? Gods, that was impressive. It must be what the cloud is for, Hilin has such a delicate control of earth that she had created a sort of whirlwind to catch the soldier's in and place them as gently as possible on the ground.

That was a technique of air magic, but her control was such that she had adapted it for earth manipulation.

'Wow,' Mahalis thought 'I knew they were strong, but not this strong.'

“Incredible work, Hilin, I thought my mistake had cost you all your lives.” Mahalis said, his head hanging low as he gripped the hilt of The Angelis even harder.

“Do not trouble yourself, my lord, we are more than capable of dealing with any situation as we have been trained to do so” She gave Mahalis a nod and smile “Are you and the other Knight Descendants alright, my prince?”

The prince turned and looked to the other three members of his party. It appears that Dran had landed on Lor and the two were currently wrestling, trying to strangle each other.

'of course' thought Mahalis tiredly.

Kara, on the other hand, was already on her feet and walking towards them, her features slightly less stone like than before. A hint of annoyance in her expression.

“Thank you for saving us as you did, Prince Mahalis, but I was more than capable of handling it. I may use fire magic, but it was more than sufficient to stop myself.” She said, slightly irritated.

Mahalis blushed and then mumbled something under his breath that left the three of them in a rather awkward silence.

Thankfully, Hilin was there.

“We caught the man who was on the road, my prince, would you like to interrogate him yourself? It appears that he came from the direction of Ellai.”

'Oh Hilin! I could kiss you right now!' Mahalis thought fervently, silently thanking the woman for saving him from the awkward silence that had followed Kara's statement.

In his best princely voice Mahalis intoned “Of course, Sergeant! I will interrogate the prisoner myself!”

'Maybe a bit too loud'

Hilin immediately bowed and drew in mana, masterfully sending it forwards to disperse the cloud of earth particles that had formed.

It dissipated into the air and revealed the forms of the royal guard. Some were standing, some were throwing up, other's were holding onto some part of their body and groaning in pain, but all seemed alive.

Mahalis let loose a sigh of relief and made his way forwards towards two particular guards who were holding a struggling figure at sword point.

Drawing The Angelis, anger suddenly overriding him at being inconvenienced by a travelling lout, he flew through the air and landed in front of the man, placing the tip of his blade to his cheek.

“Who are you And what are you doing here!?” Mahalis roared as the face of the man he was looking at began to tremble, he shook under the weight of the Elven Prince's aura.

The man looked directly at the majesty of the silver armoured warrior in front of him and began to cry, wiping his face with his hands and slobbering, as if trying to hide from the man in front of him.

“Ma name be Bartu! Please, Lord, have mercy on me!”