The Legacy Forgotten: Chapter Two

[Chapter Second]
The older school staff and local men spent hours combing the forest for Malta, but after several attacks from Fari and other creatures, they finally gave up.

"Troian...it's my fault, isn't it?", Sikke's voice was soft as he stared at his hands. The two boys were sitting on the school steps, watching the final search team returning.

"No..Sikke. I know Malta. She and I are best friends way beyond the level you and I are. Running off like that has been on her mind since we were toddlers. You being a jerk just caused her to make up her mind. Let's just hope the Liberators find her."

The Liberators had gathered in the Arcande forest in recent years. Not everyone knew exactly why, but as the number of hob-goblins and trolls grew in the forest, there were more reports of this mysterious group saving villages and fighting the creatures. They'd take care of Malta...if they found her.

The days passed slowly into weeks, and weeks faded into months...and finally 5 years had passed. Every day brought thoughts of Malta to Troian's mind. Several times he tried to go look for her, but Jothan always stopped him. He wouldn't admit it, but Troian knew Jothan had given up hope that Malta still lived...but he knew better.

It was the gift of twins, the origins of which were long forgotten. Simply enough, twins could see each other's feelings, emotions, and dreams. So many times though the years, Troian saw Malta in this way. Only glimpses of happiness, fear, or excitement had appeared, but it gave him hope.

On this late fall day, as Troian awoke slowly, that was exactly what he felt - hope. He knew she was out there, and he was going to find her. Today!

"What're you thinking about, Troian?", Jothan's voice broke in. The eldest Dreadan boy was standing on the far side of their joint room, combing his close-cropped back mop of hair in front of the mirror. In the last 5 years, he had grown from a boy to a full-grown man of 20 years. He was tall, and tan, and well-muscled from hours of combat practice. The girls at the academy, and in nearby Kulda, had certainly been taking notice lately.

Troian sat up and stretched, "Nothing really." It was pointless to say anything to Jothan. Yawning, he stood and pulled a white tunic over his head, lacing it up over his tan chest in one smooth motion. He gave his hair a finger-combing, not bothering to use a brush. Smooth and white, his hair fell into his eyes just enough to bother him at times, but it was still manageable.

Jothan paused and glanced at him, "I know that look.", he sighed, "Strap on your sword, in case I can't stop you this time." He grinned brightly at his younger brother. Even at his youthful age, Jothan had more wisdom in dealing with children and teenagers, than any young man needed, espiecally with 8 younger siblings.

With an annoyed glance at his brother, Troian grabbed his sword. Another ancestral heirloom, it'd been passed to him from his great-grandfather, Eldarin. With an opal pommel-stone, it's white hilt shone beautifully in the glinting sunlight. It was made to match his ring, set with the shining Light Stone.

"Troian! Jothan! Come on already!", shouted the 3 younger Dreadan brothers suddenly. At 15, Zachai was the closest in age to Troian, though the two boys were nothing alike. Zachai's hair was pitch black, even darker than Jothan or Malta's, and his eyes were a rare and brilliant shade of violet. He looked nothing like his siblings.

The other two boys, however, fit right in with the rest of the family. Chaes, at 11, had blonde hair as light as a lily and eyes the color of the summer sky. The youngest boy was Benjari at 10 years. Named for their grandmother's brother, he was the very image of his namesake, with unruly light brown hair and blue eyes that glinted like the eastern oceans.

"Did you guys hear us? Come on!", yelled Zachai, banging on the door.

"Hey, keep your pants on, Zachai!", Troian snapped. Zachai was too impatient.

As he reluctantly emerged, Troian noticed Zachai staring at the sword strapped to his side. Controversy was always open to the moody and hot-headed youth.

Before his brother could comment, Troian trudged out the door and bounded down the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lutalie sighed as Troian and Jothan came crashing into the dining room. Boys...they can't even walk to breakfast quietly. She sent an extra cheerful smile to Zachai as he entered the room. As moody as his disposition was, she was always a bit worried about him. He glanced at her, then shot a pointed look at Troian.

With her curiousity aroused, Lutalie glanced at Troian, her clear blue eyes growing wide. He had his sword at his side on a day when there were no combat classes... She knew what that meant. Not again! Won't he just give it a rest? Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of her sister. There was nothing that could bring Malta back.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sikke! Wait up!", shouted Troian, hurrying to catch up to the older boy.

Sikke had grown quickly from the freckle-faced boy he had been, into a handsome young man with broad shoulders and deep green eyes. Now as he turned, he ran a hand through his thick mop of honey-gold curls and grinned at Troian. Despite the rivalry he'd had with Malta, he and Troian were still good friends. Sikke was the only one who still had hope for seeing Malta again. "What do you need, Troian?"

Troian stopped and nodded, "I want to talk to you."

Sikke frowned slightly, Troian was always so serious. He hadn't smiled since Malta left. Until they saw her again, he'd probably never smile again. "Troian, has anyone ever told you, you're very predictable?"

Troian glared, "I'm getting that feeling. Listen-"

He was interrupted by a commotion at the edge of the schoolyard. The two boys turned to see 4 strangers entering the clearing. Children of all ages had gathered around them, but the group - all girls, Troian noticed - ignored them.

Sikke gave Troian a curious glance, "Again? We've been getting a lot of strange guests of late."

"We best be careful. The last one walked off with half our meat cellar.", Troian groaned as a thought struck him, "We're the oldest ones out here. We'll have to handle it."

"Hello.", came a cheerful girl's voice from surprisingly close range. One of the girls had darted ahead, and now stood before the boys, a spritely grin on her face. She was a cute kid, with short blonde hair cupping her delicate face and eyes as green as jade. Two equal-sized dark green marks streaked across her cheeks; tribal markings. She was Qelre - one of the mountain folk. Her dress was simple, consisting of a knee-length tunic, a belt, and sturdy sandals.

The boys must have jumped visibly, because the girl giggled at them, "I'm not going to hurt you! I don't even have a weapon," she glanced sideways at the twin blades strapped to her back, "Oh! Except those!", she giggled. "My name is Kiyalana. My friends and I are in need of your assistance."

By this time they'd been joined by the other three girls. One of them was obviously (and surprisingly) a Zendar of the mountain regions. She had spiky ear-length hair the color of snow, and icy blue eyes to match. With the moody look in her eyes, she'd match Zachai's attitude perfectly. She was clothed in light blue garb, with white armor over it. One of her hands sat threateningly on the hilt of a massive broadsword that was strapped to her back. She eyed them warily.

Kiyalana smiled, "That's Cryda. I promise, she's really not as scary as she looks." She giggled at the glare Cryda shot her.

The eldest woman simply introduced herself, "My name is Tristarina.", she smiled, "my friends call me Tris."

Troian couldn't help but stare, he'd only seen a Kyrie once in his life. With golden-brown wings laying gracefully against her back, she looked the part of an elegant Hawk warrior. Her hair was fiery auburn, and shone against her plain white dress. Despite her pleasant appearance, the boys kept an eye on the battleaxe and longbow that rested on her slender back. She had to be a strong woman to carry such weapons.

"I probably don't need to introduce myself.", the fourth and final girl said. Troian's breath caught as he took in the shoulder-length black braid, the bright green eyes, even the tell-tale freckles that danced across her nose. Nervously, she placed a hand on the necklace she wore. Silver, with a green stone set between two hawks.

"Malta!!", it was Sikke, not Troian, who shouted it. The other 3 girls seemed shocked as Malta looked at the boys, her eyes shining.