Disclaimer: Diadem: Worlds of Magic does NOT belong to me. It belongs to Peel and his publishers, currently Llewellyn Worldwide. I highly respect his work and am making no profit from this, nor do I intend for this piece of fan fiction to interfere with his profits.
Author's Note: Takes place sometime after Book of Nightmares and before Book of War
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Diadem: Book of Thoughts
CHAPTER 7: “Return to Ordin”
by Luna
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Helaine walked purposely into Shanara’s palace. She was determined not to show her fatigue or trepidation. Her sleepwalk-warning had come true, but she refused to let her nightmarish visions prove true as well. What was the use of having a sixth sense if fate was set in stone?
Trusting her prescience to warn her of any imminent danger, she was caught completely off guard; a trap Portal was embedded in the floor around the bend of the corridor. In an instant Helaine found herself on an all too familiar world. The air, the sky, the very sounds of the forest around her cried out to her senses. She was once more on Ordin, her homeworld. Not just anywhere on Ordin, but visible between the trees was her father’s estate.
On a Rim World such as Ordin, Helaine knew she was trapped. There wasn’t enough magical energy on the Rim of the Diadem to perform most of her magic, let alone create a Portal. Even her sixth sense abilities would be dampened on this world.
Before Helaine could pull out her agate and contact her friends, her mind tingled with warning. She drew forth her sword. Out of the woods from all sides, sprang armored men wearing the blue-green colors of the Border Lords.
“Who are you?” demanded a blond, bearded man. By his stature and tone of voice, Helaine knew he must be the commander of this small band.
Helaine hesitated before answering. Although these were clearly not magic-users who could use her true name against her, declaring herself as the Lady Helaine Votrin, daughter to Lord Votrin of the Inner Kingdom, an enemy rival to the Border Lords, was hardly a smart move.
“My name is no concern of yours. You should declare yourself, sir! You stand on Votrin lands, not your own home soil.” Helaine still had her sword drawn, but in a more neutral position. She could as quickly raise it to her defense, or attack, as sheath it.
The men laughed. One of them, a rough looking, battle worn soldier spoke. “This is our land. Where have you been, lass, to not hear that Votrin was vanquished more than five days past?”
Helaine turned ashen. It took all her warrior training to keep herself from shaking in shock and anger. Regardless, her face twitched slightly.
The bearded commander noticed her reaction, as subtle as it was.
“My name is Ilried, son of Eckrid. I am captain to these men. Now, your name and rank.”
Helaine swallowed hard. “I am Renalda, a simple traveler.”
Ilried was no longer paying attention to her words. His eyes were fixed upon Helaine’s right hand. Helaine’s middle finger bore a simple gold band, stamped with the insignia of the Votrin heir.
The ring was not something Helaine often wore, and never when in her guise as the boy “Renald”, but after the incident with Score and his mother’s locket Helaine found it wiser to keep such personal items close.
“Where did you get that ring?!” Ilreid challenged. The closest soldier to Helaine grabbed her arm roughly, and sensing his move before he made it, Helaine was prepared enough to use his momentum to flip him over, breaking his wrist in the process.
Madness ensued. The fighters swarmed her, and it took all of Helaine’s skill at the blade and her reduced power of prescience to keep her whole. Two men were down, permanently.
Ilreid signaled his remaining men to step back. “A woman skilled with a blade? You incompetent brutes! I will test her myself!” and charged Helaine.
Helaine deflected his blade as she stepped inside his guard. He jumped back as she swung her sword.
Ilreid’s blade had a slightly longer reach than Helaine’s, giving him a small advantage.
Helaine hurriedly brought back her weapon to block Ilreid’s swing. His aim suddenly changed direction and Helaine blocked the sweeping attack intended for her legs by holding her sword vertically. She slid her blade along Ilreid’s and pushed up her sword.
Ilredi stepped back and twisted the upper half of his body sideways, easily dodging the attack. The two of them separated.
They ran at each other again. Helaine blocked Ilreid's downward swing. Ilreid pulled back his sword and thrust. Helaine blocked again.
Growing fatigued, there was a split second in which Helaine left an opening. It was exactly what Ilreid was waiting for. Helaine brought up her sword from below. Ilreid's blade flashed. Neither one was in a position to avoid the other's blow.
The metallic ring of their swords sounded. It had happened faster than the eye could see. Ilreid's sword had changed direction in midair, and in response Helaine hurriedly jumped to the left.
The two warriors silently faced each other. Ilreid's sword had suddenly become shorter, the blade broken off about midway down. Helaine had gone for Ilreid's sword, seeing that if she went for Ilreid, Ilreid would go for the killing blow. The instant Ilreid realized his blade had been broken, he had moved closer, and changed the direction of his swing. Helaine's right sleeve was becoming stained in blood -- her sword arm was wounded! The tip of the blade had struck Helaine.
Both fighters separated, breathing hard. Helaine switched her sword to her left hand, wishing she was as ambidextrous as her sword master, Borigen.
Ilreid examined his broken blade, clearly angry. “Seize her,” he commanded.
She was swarmed once more. She sensed a blow coming towards her head, one from behind and another from the right side. She couldn’t block them all, but she would try. She was a Votrin, and she would die fighting.
She spun and ducked, avoiding the blow that was towards her head while parrying the blow that would have stabbed her in the back. But she was too late to block the attack from the side. The broadsword cut across her side and through her leather armor, burning like fire. The pain weakened her concentration enough for her opponent to knock the sword from her hand.
Ilried’s broken blade was at her throat. She was defeated.
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