Prolouge:
The palace was in flames. Zangulus tried to calm his mind as he raced through the torrid halls. He had to find her, had to find Martina and escape.
He heard her cries coming from the room ahead of him. He raced in, gritting his teeth against the burning embers that flew at his face. He spotted her, in the far corner, his darling Martina, held in the arms of one of the many men of the warlord who had attacked Zoanna’s palace. He waded through the flames as best he could, cringing at the burning pain.
“Let her go, you bastard!” He demanded of his wife’s captor. The thug just laughed. “Never. She will die, as will you and everyone else within this miserable place! Lord Darius ordered that there be no prisoners!”
“Damnit, I said let her go!” Zangulus pulled out the Howling Sword, but the man laughed. He threw a torch in front of Zangulus, the flames rising, forming an impenetrable wall between them. Desperately, Zangulus called out his wife’s name. “Martina!”
“My love,’ the princess replied, go! Escape! Leave me here! At least one of us will survive this night!”
Horrified, Zangulus let out a cry of protest, but his wife cut him short. “Zangulus, escape while the chance remains! Please, I beg you!”
Hesitantly, the bounty hunter obeyed. He ran from the room, not daring to look back. As he raced down the halls, he heard Martina’s agonized cry. Tears wet his sapphire-colored eyes. She had been killed. He swore that he would avenge her. Lord Darius would suffer for this!
He raced on until daylight, when he had finally reached his old hometown….alone.
Chapter One
He could not believe what he saw. Instead of the bustling, warm little town where he had grown up, there lay the charred and broken ruins of his hometown. Bodies were strewn carelessly about the streets, and the whole placed reeked of newly-burnt wood, and the smell of rotting dead. He pulled out his sword again. He did not know if the one responsible for such carnage still lurked nearby.
CRACK!!
He turned abruptly as the sound of wood breaking echoed from a ramshackle hut behind him. Taking up a defensive pose, he roared, “Who are you?! Come out at once, murderer!”
Moments passed without response. Then, suddenly, from the shadows of the hut emerged a tall figure. When the light cast itself upon it, a beautiful, dark-haired girl stepped before Zangulus. She was clad in a warrior’s attire, and around her slim waist hung a sword sheath attached to a belt. The sword itself she held out in Zangulus’ direction, aimed at his throat, ready for a conflict.
“Who are you?!” he demanded, glaring at the young woman, who still held her ground. “Are you the one responsible for this destruction?!”
The young woman frowned. “No. I would never do such a horrible thing as has been done here!”
She looked at him again. She squinted, then lowered her weapon as a look of surprise and joy spread across her face.
“Z-Zangy? Zangulus?”
Zangulus stared at her, confused. “How do you know who I am?”
“Zangulus, it’s me, don’t you remember? It’s me, Lucia! You know, the daughter of Amrys, the blacksmith! We were childhood friends! You taught me how to use this!” She waved her sword in front of him. “Zangulus…you do remember….don’t you?” Zangulus squinted. “Lucia?”
The girl nodded. Zangulus closed his eyes and began to recall his childhood. He had lived here, in Carnes from age ten to twelve. His father had been a bounty hunter like himself, and his mother had been a spinstress.
He had found it difficult to make friends with the boys of the town, constantly being turned away because he “didn’t fit in”. and so, lonely, he had taken up swordplay, developing an unmatchable skill.
Then one day, as he was practicing in an alley, he met a young girl, dressed in a boy’s attire, and followed by a flock of young boys who seemed to all take orders from her. The boys harassed Zangulus, but the girl called them off. She introduced herself as “Lucia”, and offered him friendship. He accepted, and the two began to spend afternoons together, Zangulus teaching her swordplay, until at last, she became as skilled as he.
They had been friends right up until the day Zangulus’ father died, and then he, now seventeen, decided to strike out on his own. He had left her behind, promising that they would someday meet again.
Zangulus smiled and put a hand to his hat. Lucia had given him that hat before he’d left Carnes, as a reminder of her. He had worn it all these years, never bothering to take it off, even though it had grown old and tattered.
Over the years, he soon forgot about Carnes and his promise to Lucia, but here he was now, back in what was left of his home, and there she was, awaiting him, even though it was by chance. He opened his eyes and turned back to face her.
“Lucia, it really is you!” He walked forward, and embraced her. The girl smiled, her eyes watery.
“Oh, Zangulus, it’s been so long. Thank the gods you’re here!”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her dark eyes. “Who did this to Carnes? What of my mother?”
Lucia bowed her head. “I…I’m sorry, Zangulus. She was…run through. Carnes was attacked by a warlord who called himself “Lord Darius”, and he destroyed everything. I managed to escape by ny skills and by pretending to be dead” She sniffed. “Oh, Gods, everything’s gone! My family, my home…all of it is gone!”
“Sshh,” Zangulus told her, taking her into his strong arms once more. He brushed the tears off her cheeks. “We’ll get vengeance. Did you say this warlord called himself “Lord Darius”?”
Lucia nodded. “Yes, that’s what the bastard who killed my mother said.”
“Oh, Gods!” Zangulus was shocked. “Lord Darius” was the one who had destroyed Zoanna…and Martina! His eyes narrowed, and he filled with rage. It was bad enough that his wife and kingdom had been taken, but now his mother and best friend’s family? He could not allow Darius to go unpunished. He took Lucia’s hand in his.
“Lucia, I had a run-in with Darius’ army before. I plan to hunt him down and kill him. Do you know where his army headed?”
Lucia frowned. “He said he was heading East. I heard him tell his men that they were going to take all off this land, piece by piece, to honor the God of War, Torak. I can’t let it be done! He must be destroyed!”
Zangulus nodded in agreement. “He will be. I’ll kill him myself. I have a score to settle with him already.”
“Wait,” Lucia replied as he turned to head off to the East. “I’m coming too. I have a score to settle with that bastard too!” Zangulus turned. “Lucia, it’s dangerous. You could be killed!”
“So couldn’t you,” she reminded him. “Look, I’ve only just seen you after five whole years. I won’t lose you again. I’m coming with you. I know how to fight, and I know Fire Shamanism and Black Magic. I can help.”
Zangulus opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him short. “No complaints. I’ve made up my mind. I’m coming.”
Zangulus sighed and bowed his head in defeat. Lucia had always had a way of winning arguments. He knew better than to try and talk her out of this. Reluctantly he nodded. “Okay. You can come. Get your supplies ready. We head out immeadiately.”
Lucia smiled for the first time. “You’ll be glad I’m with you. I promise you, I won’t be a hindrance.”
Zangulus sighed again. “You already are, Lucia. You already are…!”
