The Legend of Alexandros: Belen (2 page)

“I say we kill him and finally be done with the goblins for good,” Maddoc said with a deep growl. “For too long they have caused nothing but trouble for everyone.”

“Killing him will not be enough; he needs to pay for his crime against us,” said Cassandra, tossing her long blonde hair behind her. “Lock him away in his filthy mountains for all eternity.”

“What do you think?” Maddoc asked, very much annoyed. “He will surely at some time escape and wage war once again.”

“Silence!” Tobias shouted. “Mabruk, what do you feel we should do with this goblin beast?”

Mabruk and the others finally agreed to banish the creature and its surviving followers to the underground for all eternity. Mabruk and Tobias escorted the goblins and their king deep into the mountain’s underground mines. They chained the goblins to the ground and left them there.

“You should have killed me,” the goblin leader king hissed. “I shall return someday…and you all shall be the ones pleading for your worthless lives.”

“I dare you to return…and if the day comes, I shall be ready for you,” said Mabruk.

“We shall see…” the goblin leader whispered to himself.

Mabruk and Tobias returned to the battlefield and were approached by the Amazon queen and lycan leader.

“Mabruk Alexandros, I am in your debt,” she said with gratitude. “In the future if there is anything you need, please do not be afraid to ask.”

“I am also in your debt…but our truce is done now,” the lycan Maddoc added, hissing and growling. “Do not bother my kind again, Mabruk.”

The centaurs, Amazons, and Mabruk formed a peace treaty; the lycans traveled back to their lands. Soon the Amazons went on their way as well. Mabruk and Tobias grew close, forming a great friendship. The centaur nation built a neighboring village a few miles away from Souvaolo, which they named “Ezdacir,” to continue their newfound friendship with man. Years past, and the goblins had remained to be seen. Mabruk returned home to his wife, and together they had a son. Tobias also returned to his family, and, throughout the seasons, Mabruk and Tobias traveled the lands with one another; although they drifted apart, they always remembered the great battle the two had survived.

T
WENTY-TWO WINTERS LATER
…

A warrior is a person experienced in or capable of engaging in combat or warfare. Warriors often form a caste or class of their own; their code, however, is followed to the death.

It was like any other simple summer morning in the village of Souvaolo. People built homes out of stone to protect against the harsh seasons. Farmers gathered crops and milked cows; their fields were lush green, and the trees reached as high as the sky. Crystal clear lakes and beautiful green forests surrounded the peaceful village—Souvaolo was a true paradise.

Besides the lakes, the forests, and the beautiful fields, it was also the home of the Alexandros family, mighty warriors of their time known to the world as the very best and the bravest. Mabruk was husband and father of two: a strong son and one child on the way. Mabruk stood six-foot-five and very much in shape for a man in his mid-fifties. His skin was pale; his eyes brown; his hair long and dark, and it reached down his back, though he mostly kept it tied up. He was a loving husband and father, although a stern man with little patience. He ran his family with a firm hand and expected things to go his way.

Mabruk’s wife, Adina, was the most beautiful woman in the village. She had long, light-brown hair with beautiful round blue eyes and pink full lips. Adina was close to eight month’s pregnant with her second child, and she could not have been any happier. It had taken her so long to get pregnant again, and she could not hide her excitement. Her spirit was that of a true wanderer, full of life and wanting adventure, but she knew her place was to care for her family, and, like most women of her village she had little or no say on what went on in her home.

Their son was Belen Alexandros, a young man of twenty-four years with eyes as light blue as the sky. He, like his father, was tall at six-feet and had a body that filled the village men with envy; his hair was dark like his father’s and reached just passed his shoulders; his lips were full like his mother’s. The men of the Alexandros family were powerful warriors; each boy from birth was trained to be outstanding in battle.

The summer morning had begun like any other; the soft breeze blew off the trees sending a sweet scent across the land. On a hill top next to a flowing crystal clear creek sat Belen Alexandros, sharpening his massive sword—a sword given to him by his grandfather, and it was the boy’s pride, so he kept it in the best shape. The sword had a black handle with a shining crest of a harpy eagle carved into it. The gleaming silver blade, appearing almost white in the reflecting sun, was wide with a long reach. Alexandros wore brown knee-high boots and a grey work shirt—his shirt was so baggy and worn he needed a belt to keep it on properly. He also wore his favorite black tights. While sharpening his sword, he glanced up every now and then to watch the villagers scurry about doing their daily routine. The village baker for one never seemed to get up early enough and was always in a rush. His wife would always end up shouting at him causing a big scene…but they seemed to make up by the end of the day like nothing ever happened. The village blacksmith rarely ever slept and had permanent bags under his eyes.

“Alexandros!” his father yelled from the front step of their home. “Come in, my boy! Your mother has made breakfast.”

Alexandros gathered up his things, then jogged down the hill and walked up to his front door, where his mother greeted him.

“Come eat something, Belen,” she said with her soft voice—only she called him by his first name.

His home had close to no furniture. The sitting room was small and round with a medium-sized window at the far end; the room had one couch, two leather chairs, and a small round table in the center of the room. They passed the sitting room and went on to the dining room—which looked somewhat like the sitting room but with a fireplace—where Mabruk sat waiting. As his mother served them breakfast, Alexandros and his father sat around a round table and ate.

“Alexandros, my boy,” his father said. “I need you to run this afternoon to the merchant outside of town.”

“The one near the creek with the waterfall?” Alexandros asked.

“Yes. Drake needs a new pair of horse shoes.”

Mabruk had been raising Drake, his only horse, since his teen years. Drake was a true black Friesian horse. Drake was in his old age now, but from time to time Mabruk took him out for a good run.

After everyone had eaten, Alexandros decided to head over to the merchant and take advantage of the sun still being high. Mabruk walked him to the road that led outside of town, thanked him for going to the merchant, and asked him to hurry back home. According to some, “goblin” creatures had been sighted burning down local villages; most villagers, however, did not believe in the tales, for goblins had been driven underground more than twenty years ago. But, to be on the safe side, Alexandros agreed to hurry home. He began making his way down the rocky dirt road when he heard someone call out to him.

“Alexandros!”

Alexandros turned to find his childhood friend Roger running up toward him. Roger was lanky and skinny; he had short, light-red hair and stood about five-feet-eight. His clothes were neat, even though his family always seemed to work the fields early in the morning. His eyes were round and light brown; he had many freckles all over his face. His skin was pale; many of the villagers joked by calling him the village ghost.

“Are you still going to teach me the proper ways to hold a sword?” Roger asked with a smile. “I know my last attempt was not one I wish to remember but I still want to learn.”

“Of course, but before that I must make a run to the merchant. I will come find you as soon as I arrive.” Alexandros replied.

“Oh…you are going to see the old merchant by the creek?” Roger asked with a sour face. “He sold us cheap horse shoes not too long ago. I hate him, plus he smells like spoiled eggs.”

Alexandros shrugged and let out a small laugh. “My father wants the horse shoes from him; I am just going to pick them up. If I had a choice I would travel across seas before I would buy a thing from him. I should be on my way, but once I return I will surely come find you.”

“Great, I will be waiting by the fields near my home. Do not forget me.”

Roger turned, waved, and ran off down the road back to the village.

Beautiful green fields surrounded the horses as they ran free and grazed; children played in the warm morning sunlight—it was a most magical sight. As Alexandros walked down the road he wondered if the “goblin” stories were real. The thoughts worried him, and he tried to push them out of his head. It took close to an hour to reach the creek with the small waterfall, and as always the smelly old, long-bearded merchant was there.

“Well, friend, what can I get for you today?” the merchant asked. “Maybe a fancy sword case or maybe a new sword itself to go with the new sword case?”

“No. None of that. I am here for some horse shoes, and this time I want good ones, not those cheap shoes you sold my father the last time.”

The merchant stood silent for a moment before finally pulling out the better horse shoes from his haggard old wagon.

“I must have missed these…” The Merchant answered in a skittish voice.

Alexandros quickly bought the horse shoes and set back on returning home. The road did not feel as peaceful as it did earlier; it had a haunting feeling as if it had been crossed by something that never should have stepped foot on it. He quickened his pace. The afternoon sun was still somewhat high in the sky, but as he reached closer to his village he saw a group of about thirty men—small men walking hunched over. They were no more than about four-foot-three with dirty old bronzed armor; as they walked, the little men dragged their swords along the rocky dirt road. Alexandros slowed his pace upon realizing their skin was a dark greenish color—these were not men at all …. …they were goblins!

For the first time in his life, Alexandros was afraid—not for himself but for the safety of his family and friends in his village. He began to draw his sword when a mighty blow to the back of his head sent him crashing face-first to the ground. His vision blurred as a goblin kneeled down and looked him in the eye. The creature’s face was disgusting and horrifying; one eye was missing, the other as red as blood; its teeth were razor sharp and its skin was grayish green. The creature yanked Alexandros by his hair; its sharp claws dug into his scalp. He slammed Alexandros’ face into the ground, knocking him unconscious.

Back in the village of Souvaolo, Adina grew terribly worried. It had been hours since Alexandros had left.

“What on earth is taking him so long, Mabruk?”

“Adina you truly do worry too much, Alexandros is a man now. I am positive he is fine,” Mabruk said with a small laugh.

The couple sat on the small hill in front of their stone house and watched the sun begin to set. Mabruk put his arm around her; she rested her head on his shoulder. Mabruk kissed her forehead.

“What shall we name this new baby, my dear?” He asked with a soft caring voice.

“Oh, I have thought of several names so far.” “That is not fair—you named Belen,” Adina giggled. “Very well, then, what do you think we should call her?”

“How are you certain it is a girl, Adina?”

“How are you certain it is another boy, Mabruk?”

The married couple playfully argued for some time before they dropped the entire conversation. The sun had completely set; the moon was high in the sky. Mabruk was now worried for his son. It was not like Alexandros to be so long, especially since he’d been told to hurry back.

“I will travel down to the merchant to find him,” said Mabruk.

Adina looked relieved. As Mabruk went into the house for his sword he suddenly heard her shout.

“Mabruk look, the flames!” she cried.

Terrified screams filled the village. Mabruk led Adina back into their home and ordered her to wait there. He ran outside again to find hordes of goblins making their way toward his house. He ran to them, charging at full force, and fought them off for as long as he could—but it was no use. The goblins outnumbered him. They broke into his home, pulled Adina out, and threw her to the ground.

“Adina!” Mabruk shouted. “Leave her! Take me! And leave her!”

As the goblins tied them down, another goblin on horseback approached. This goblin was slightly taller than the rest and wore dirty, royal-looking clothes.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” it said with a dry, gurgling voice. “You have aged, Mabruk, and not for the best.” Its face grew serious. “Did I not say I would return? You shall now pay for that mercy you gave me twenty years ago, Mabruk.”

The goblin king would not allow Mabruk to speak. It ordered Adina to be brought forth. “My dear, your husband was foolish to allow me to live…and you…will pay for that stupidity.”

She turned to Mabruk…tears filled her eyes. She shut them tightly, and just then her water broke. “Mabruk…” she said softly.

The goblin king drew his rusted old sword and beheaded her.

As Mabruk’s eyes filled with sorrow, the goblin king spit in his face.

“Join your lady, Mabruk,” it said and beheaded Mabruk as well.

The goblins destroyed the village, leaving no soul alive. They burned down homes and the fields. They torched the forests—then left through the now-barren forest behind the home of Alexandros family.

The summer moon was now high in the sky. Alexandros slowly opened his eyes, his head was pounding with a great pain, and it hurt to think. He rose to his feet with difficulty. Extremely dizzy, he threw up on the side of the road. Drops of blood fell on the vomit, and he realized he had a gash on his forehead. He tore off a piece of his grey shirt and wrapped it around the wound. He noticed an orange light coming from the direction of his village. He tried to run toward the light, but every time he tried he fell to his knees; he was far too weak, so he walked, as fast as possible.