Curse of The Seventh Sword: The Gauntlet of Feona by Kelechi Agu Page A

opened a portal up to his watch tower, spoke.
    “It seems we might have to intervene after all.  When I say so, make sure you do not miss your mark my friend.  This will all happen very quickly.”
    “I wouldn’t miss in my sleep.”  Replied Davydd as he recalled the broken nose he had suffered from Farok during the forest chase. Back at the entrance to the prison quarters, Farok had crouched low and was reaching out towards Leo and Ovar.  Davydd held the arrow steadily on the bowstring. 
    “Now.”  Max said as he disappeared.  Davydd let go of the arrow and it flew through the air with a thwack sound coming from the recoil of the strings.  Max appeared in front of Farok, swinging his dagger down on Farok’s outstretched hand, menacingly.  Farok instinctively recoiled and then drew his sword.  The arrow hit the left side of his chest plate with such force, that it pierced a hole through it and pushed him back.  It was all the time Max needed, as he turned grabbed both Ovar and Leo and portal traveled back to the gate.  
    “Guards!”  Farok yelled as he struggled to get back on his feet.  
    S am had already begun opening the gates of the outpost.
    “We need to go now men!”  He yelled.  Max was watching Farok get back on his feet.  As Farok straightened up, Max appeared in front of him, in midair and with his dagger swinging towards Farok’s neck.  However, much to his surprise, he looked down to see Farok had leaned over backwards avoiding his swing, and was swinging back with his sword heading for Max’s waist.  Max vanished right as the sword swung through.  He reappeared near the entrance of the outpost.
    “Get together everyone.”  He said as the soldiers raced towards them.  Everyone squeezed in together around Max, and they were gone by the time the Soldiers got to them.   Farok grimaced in pain as he tried to pull the arrow from his flesh and armor.  It had barely missed his heart, but it was still embedded just below his left shoulder. 
    “Don’t.”  A hand stopped him.  Farok looked up and saw that it was his fellow death class soldier.
    “Trudor…” Farok muttered through clenched teeth.
    “We’ll take you to the healer who will properly tend to your wound.  I need to send word back to Alvo.  These men were no ordinary men and that boy Davydd… he almost killed two of us in two days.” 
    Farok scoffed.
    “He was lucky on both counts.”
    “Luck sometimes favors the strong my friend.  I will leave the soldiers here with orders.  We need to return to Alvo as soon as we get this arrow out of your chest.”
     
    “You were born into a world at war, a world in turmoil.  At a time when darkness was all your parents knew; you brought a new light and a new happiness into their lives.  Your father, Rikard Miljorn, along with the kings of the other six kingdoms of Terrianus, had been fighting a long war that was half way through its seventh year.  It was a surprise we lasted so long.  Our enemy was faster, stronger, just as smart and sometimes wiser.  They were known as the Dragol.  Despite their power, they lacked something that we had… heart.  The Dragol were a race born from Chaos.  They had been cast into another realm that ran parallel to ours, when the seven great gods were born from their elder god, Chaos.  Left all alone in the darkest crevices of existence, their anger at the gods grew and so did their jealousy towards us… humans.  They sought revenge against the gods for deserting them, and to do that, they sought to wipe out all of humanity.”
    Ovar coughed and Davydd brought him some water in a wooden cup.  Ovar half sat up and gulped down the cup’s contents before laying back down slowly.
    “You don’t need to speak any more, father.”  Davydd said with a worried look on his face.  He looked at the others who were all seated around the room’s curved walls except for Matilom.  They nodded their agreement.  Matilom stood