A Hero's Journey: Rivalry

     ”You have to leave again, Father?” The young white Blumaroo clung to Sir Reynold’s waist, burying his face into the rough tunic cloth. “But when will you be back?”

     Reynold rubbed the back of his head and smiled sadly, embracing his son. “I’ll be back in two weeks. We’re being sent on a mission to the east. They say they sighted some of Lord Kass’ generals there, and we need to protect Meridell from them, if those reports are true. Jeran’s expecting me in White River today so I have to go.”

     “It felt like only yesterday that you finally got back home…”

     “I know, Rohane. I know.” The yellow Blumaroo half-knelt in front of him and placed his hand on his shoulder. “But I have to go, for you, your brother, and your mother.” He looked up at his wife, a demure white Blumaroo with curly hair, and his older son, who resembled her and Rohane but looked more resigned to Reynold’s plans. “I’m doing this to protect all of you.”

     Rohane bit his lip and sniffed, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

     “You promise you’ll come back?”

     “I will. And when I do…”

     “You’ll continue teaching me and Reuben about being knights? You’ll play with us again? Tell us stories?”

     “Yes, yes,” said Reynold fondly. “We’ll do all of that, and more.” He spread one arm and looked straight at Reuben with a smile. Reuben immediately scrambled forward and into Reynold’s embrace.

     After holding his sons close, Reynold stood up, strode over to Melissa, and hugged her tightly.

     “Come home soon.”

     “I will.”

     “Take care of yourself. I’m always worried about you.”

     The yellow Blumaroo chuckled. “I know. Don’t worry, I have Jeran with me, as always.”

     * * *

     Rohane opened his eyes. For a second, he forgot that he was no longer in Trestin, but in his assigned quarters in Meridell Castle. He lay there in his bed, staring up at the bare ceiling and thinking of his father, who certainly spent nights like this away from his family and on official knight duty.

     It was something he understood at an early age, but tonight, an undercurrent of resentment flowed beneath that pride and acceptance. He rumpled the blankets under his fingers when he considered that during all these times, his father spent more time with Jeran, his former squire and then colleague.

     It shouldn’t be surprising, he tried to convince himself as he sat up and looked around his room. It was spartan in its furnishings – with a comfortable armchair, a desk and chair near the window that gave him a view of the woods outside the castle, a closet, and a bedside chest of drawers. Of course Father spent a lot of time with Jeran. They were both knights, and Reuben and I were too young to join them. I understood that.

     So, why do I feel this way?

     Rohane frowned. We knew why Father had to be away. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to make the most out of the time he had with us.

     Then again, we were fine with it probably because he made good on his word each time. He always said he would be back. It was only after he fought against Ramtor…that he couldn’t keep that promise. We learned that day…that even our father, one of the greatest knights of Meridell…

     He let his thoughts trail off.

     I avenged his death, but that won’t bring him back. The white Blumaroo drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. The time we could’ve spent together is lost forever.

     A stray night breeze blew through his open window, rustling the curtains, and he slowly let out a breath.

     Finding his locket won’t bring him back either, but at least I would have a part of him with me again. Which is why I’ll find it.

     I’ll find it before Jeran does.

     * * *

     Tuffold chuckled as he took a swig from a skin of Braku Berry Juice. “Honestly, I’m starting to wonder if some former castle staff or knight took Sir Reynold’s locket with them when they left.” He leaned back on the bench where he sat next to Jeran, who was polishing his sword. Not too far away, Rohane was sparring with Colleen, and the Lupes had a good view of the two Blumaroos on the training grounds.

     “I doubt it.” Jeran held up the blade to the morning sunlight. “But I feel like I’m missing something. I’m trying to remember everything he has ever told me if there’s some clue.” He watched Colleen and Rohane weaving their own battle dance, both of them graceful and quick on their feet.

     Rohane broke away from Colleen, whose rapier flicked toward his chest, and glanced over at the blue Lupe. “Father isn’t the type to leave puzzles or mysteries behind. As his squire, you should know.”

      “I’m just speculating. Shouldn’t you pay more attention to…” Before Jeran could finish his sentence, the female royal Blumaroo rushed forward, her rapier ready to sweep up and out. Rohane whipped around and parried her strike in one fluid movement that made Tuffold gasp in awe.

     “That looks like Sir Reynold’s signature blocking style.”

     Jeran squinted. “No, it doesn’t.”

     Colleen gasped, blowing quickly on a curl that fell between her eyes. “The way you swung your sword just now…” She ducked a high slash and aimed for Rohane’s knees, but her attempt was futile as he sidestepped and went for her right. Their swords clashed again and again, and at first, they seemed evenly matched.

     That is, until Rohane dug his heels into the grass and shoved Colleen away from him. He dodged her next strike before sweeping his blade in a wide arc and to the side, causing her to stumble before extending the point of his sword toward her throat.

     Tuffold and Jeran were speechless. At first, Colleen was the same, breathing hard and staring at the broadsword levelled at her neck. Then she relaxed slowly and smiled.

     “I yield. You’re a much better swordsman than I thought. Did you train with a combat master from the Lost Desert?”

     Rohane withdrew his sword. He was also breathless as he sheathed it, but he managed to answer, “Yes, I did.”

     Colleen nodded with approval. “I met a travelling Lost Desert Shoyru warrior once. I can see similarities between their style and yours.”

     “That explains it,” Tuffold interrupted. “That was Sir Reynold’s signature move, but with a twist.” He whistled. “I’m impressed.”

     “Did you take lessons wherever you went?” asked the royal Blumaroo, her eyes twinkling with interest. “A lot of your moves didn’t look like anything any knight would teach.” Jeran looked up from where his sword had begun to gleam brightly in the sun.

     “Yeah,” Rohane answered, smiling modestly. “I wanted to learn as much as I could while travelling with my friends. I had to become stronger, to protect them.”

     “And the rest of Neopia,” Tuffold put in.

     Jeran stood up, his sword grasped in his hand. “Sir Reynold and I found other warriors all over Meridell. He always tried to learn from them, pick up a few pointers.”

     “He told me and Reuben stories about that,” said Rohane, watching the blue Lupe somewhat warily. “He promised us that one day, we’d be able to come along with him.”

     “But you said you’ve been taking lessons from other parts of Neopia, right?” Jeran approached him, a glint of wild determination in his eyes. “I’d like to see for myself how much you’ve learned. Care to demonstrate?”

     “Ooooooh, this is gonna be good,” said Tuffold to Colleen. He turned toward the other knights scattered on the grounds and shouted, “Hey! Looks like we’ll be getting a Jeran versus Rohane rematch!”

     Rohane drew his blade again without hesitation, smirking. “I’ll even demonstrate how I won my initiation duel.”

     “Oh? Let’s see if you can even do that again,” said Jeran.

     Everyone else started to cluster around Tuffold and Colleen, watching expectantly as the two swordsmen faced each other, swords in the guard position. Oakley nearly tripped over a rock on the ground and slammed into Danner’s back.

     “Oakley, watch it!” the blue Wocky complained.

     “Sorry, I was so excited! Will Jeran redeem himself from that loss? Or has he figured out how to beat Rohane this time around? Will we ever find out who Chet Flash really is? Who knows?! Ooh, are we betting again?”

     Tuffold chortled and rested his elbow on the striped Kougra’s head. “You should consider a second career as an Altador Cup announcer. Betting five hundred Neopoints on Rohane again, since we know how that went last time.”

     “But really, who is Chet Flash?” Beryl wondered. “His name is etched all over some of the walls and old furniture in the castle…”

     “You’re betting again, Tuffold?” asked Colleen, staring at the yellow Lupe.

     “My bet’s on Rohane this time, too,” said Jaco, flipping a coin into the air in a way that would have made Snargan proud. “Three hundred Neopoints.”

     “You’re going to lose your bets!” Jeran shouted at them. “I’ve watched Rohane’s fighting style, I now know how to beat him!”

     “You wish!” the white Blumaroo taunted. “Hit me with your best shot!”

     “Okay, on the count of three, one, two – sweet Fyora, I said three!“ Danner cried.

     With a yell, Jeran rushed forward without even waiting for the count, and his incoming strike was parried neatly with a side slash. Rohane broke away, searching for an opening, but he didn’t have to search for one as Jeran came at him again from the right. Rohane narrowly dodged before following through with a swift thrust. As they wove across the grass, it soon became clear that neither of them was gaining a clear advantage.

     “Jeran’s throwing his usual skill set into this duel,” Colleen commented. “Watch that hard slash, most of his opponents can’t block it completely but Rohane changed his stance to be able to block it.” The royal Blumaroo’s eyes widened. “I can’t remember anything like it in any of our training regimens.”

     “You think it’s another one of those moves he learned travelling around Neopia?” asked Tuffold. “Anything your Lost Desert friend knows?”

     “No, not at all! But it might be helpful when dealing with the sand of the Lost Desert…”

     Her words were interrupted by the continued clashing of swords. Jeran and Rohane continued to slash, hack and duck. Jeran’s sword just missed Rohane’s ears as it whistled into the air, a silvery blur.

     “Still know how to beat me?”

     The blue Lupe scowled. “I’m working on it.” Gripping his sword in both hands, he stabbed straight toward Rohane, who immediately evaded the strike by sliding to his left and then targeting Jeran’s right side.

     “Ooh, that’s a quick comeback!” Oakley crowed.

     “Don’t count Jeran out just yet, he’s whipped around and – “ Danner gasped.

     “Whoa, he nearly had Rohane there!” a pretty Scorchio knight cried out.

     “I’ll have him with this next strike!” Jeran yelled.

     “Sir Jeran?”

     A new voice cut through the commotion and the duel ground to a halt as the blue Lupe looked up at the sound of his name. A green Draik had arrived on the scene, clad in blue and red livery and clutching a sealed scroll. All the other knights’ eyes were on this Draik.

     “What is it, Hermes?” Jeran asked.

     “The scouts have come back from Eastern Meridell,” Hermes announced. “They confirmed what we’ve suspected. There's an old lair in the ruins of a village…and mages loyal to Ramtor have been using it.”

     At that, Rohane dropped his sword in surprise.

     * * *

     A map was tacked onto the board in the war room of Meridell Castle. Knights clustered in every corner, nook, and cranny within that space, especially around the table. They all watched Jeran expectantly as he began marking out a route from the castle to a bare section of Eastern Meridell. He glanced at the scroll that Hermes had given him, frowned, and began to gesture to the spot that he had encircled, which was labelled “Marbury”.

     “According to the reports, this is where the mages’ lair is – a day’s ride from the castle. Witnesses say they’ve seen bright lights and a Scorchio dressed in blue robes like Ramtor and heard explosions like firecrackers.”

     “The mages must have escaped Ramtor’s tower or the castle secretly when Rohane and Mipsy came knocking,” Danner remarked. He stood beside Jeran and flinched when the Lupe elbowed him. “What? What’d I say?”

     “It doesn’t matter how they escaped because we’re going to catch them.” Jeran gripped the scroll in his hand so tightly that it crumpled in his grasp. “We’ll set a trap near their lair and catch them off-guard.” He flung the paper toward a small table to his side, prompting the blue Wocky to step away from the crumpled scroll’s path. “Failure is not an option. We’re not letting another Ramtor rise up and take our kingdom.”

     Silence reigned in the room. Colleen glanced at Rohane, whose face could be carved out of stone. Beryl, the strawberry Pteri, shifted uncomfortably in her position on a rafter, staring down at Tuffold and Oakley who were trading a look with each other. The atmosphere was only broken when Danner cleared his throat.

     “Jeran,” Danner said steadily, “maybe someone else should lead this mi – “

     “No, I will.”

     “I’m joining this mission, too.”

     A flurry of whispers was heard all around the room as Rohane stood up, pushing his chair aside so roughly that it scraped against the floor. Danner opened and closed his mouth as he crept around the blue Lupe to retrieve the scroll, which had missed the table entirely.

     “Why didn’t you tell me about this, Jeran?”

     “Because I had to confirm the reports,” Jeran replied as though he were chastising an insistent child, spreading his arms and revealing his chalky hands from marking the map. “I had to make sure this wasn’t some harmless hedgewitch messing around.”

     “Hedgewitches aren’t always harmless,” Rohane pointed out.

     “You know what I mean! This is Ramtor we’re talking about, I had to confirm the intel!”

     “Is that another way of saying you were wrong?”

     The commander of the Order glared furiously at the white Blumaroo. “There’s a difference between wrong and being cautious!”

     Danner held up his hands tentatively, the scroll between the fingers of his right hand. “I understand that the two of you have a huge stake in this mission, what with Sir Reynold being a father and mentor to you, but maybe we should let someone else – “

     “I said I’m going,” Jeran and Rohane declared at the same time, the former punching the map with his fist, the latter pounding the war room table. Their voices left no room for argument or objection.

     To be continued…