So sorry for the late update. And thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites!
Chapter 8: Turmoil
"Are you sure you don't want a helmet?" Jarvan looked at Shyvana skeptically, whereas Shyvana tightened both her gauntlets. She had gotten used to its weight, and could move them around with ease.
Shyvana proceeded with putting on a pair of pauldrons. They could hear the excitement of the Rakkor tribe outside the arena, waiting for the battle between one of their own and a dragon to begin. She frowned at the prince's look of concern, waving it away. "Helmets block your vision,"
"I hope you're right," he sighed. "Just beat him into a pulp. Then we can leave,"
"Oh hell no," she donned a light-weight chain mail, the kind that could not withstand a spear's thrust, but allowed quick mobility. "I'll be sure to do more than that,"
"Then that pompous jerk will be on our asses again," Jarvan glared at her. "Just knock him out cold, and we can leave this godforsaken place,"
The Rakkor village was located at the foot of Mount Targon, where the temperature drops as one climbs further up the summit. A village, it was called, yet it was filled with massive stone buildings and houses; strong, intricately sculpted pillars that were carved with the names of the Rakkor heroes. Around the village, there were crests of the Iron Solari carved into pillars and stone huts, where the Rakkor dwelled. Yet, one of the most significant structures in the village, was its fighting arena, where blood of many heroes had marked its floor.
Situated in the heart of the village, the arena was a circular, ringed area that was dug out of the ground centuries ago. Steps were carved into the slopes for the audience to sit and watch the battles, and beyond the pit was the magical stone wall of Mount Targon where a powerful relic resided, the Face of the Mountain, known to keep the magnificence and the strength of the village going for eternity.
And today, Shyvana would fight in the arena, against the paragon of the Rakkor - Pantheon. A hero who was the protector of the Sun Warrior herself, and had won countless battles leading his own troops.
"Don't screw this up," Jarvan warned again. The portcullis to the arena slid upwards, signaling the beginning of the battle. Shyvana simply rolled her eyes at him and walked to the centre of the arena.
Pantheon strode forward as well, having donned a bronze breastplate and similar helmet, greaves and vambraces. His red cape flowed behind him, floating in the wind as he faced the Half-Dragon. Despite Shyvana's menacing glare and dancing flames around her gauntlets, Pantheon was not intimidated by the sight of it.
"What if she loses?" August, who sat in the corner of the chamber asked. Jarvan's other men were watching the battle as well, curious of the Rakkor's arts of war. "She would bring shame upon you, prince,"
"That is if she loses. She might win, you never know," Jarvan's eyes were fixed on Pantheon and Shyvana. August snorted, and Jarvan chose to ignore him.
The sound of spears rapping against the ground silenced the amassing crowd. Jagen had his spear held between him, and with a loud and thunderous voice, he spoke.
"People of Rakkor! Bear witness to the battle between the Artisan of War, Pantheon!" the crowd around them roared with madness, cheering and screaming and wailing for blood. "And the Half-Dragon!" and they went into a frenzy, standing up and throwing their fists in the air, some looking angry and some pointing an accusing finger at her. Shyvana ignored them, standing proudly with her eyes fixed on Pantheon's.
"People are angry," Alfie noticed. "Is it because we hinder their rites?"
"No," Jarvan whispered to no one in particular. "They are angry at the sight of her. A half-dragon. She belonged to neither race, and they think she should be exterminated,"
"Today, blood will be spilled!" Jagen bellowed. "Today, the battle will not end, until a victor emerges. It will continue, until one of them falls, and the other remains standing! It will be a battle to the death!"
"What the fuck?!" Jarvan's eyes shot to Jagen. They weren't told of this. It wasn't meant to be like this.
Jarvan sprinted towards Jagen, slamming into guards as they held him back. His eyes were crazed and murderous, his hands tried to claw for Jagen. "You didn't say one of them have to die!"
Jagen looked at him coolly. "The Rakkor always win, and they only die if they lose. You barged into our business for no solid reason, prince," he spat the last word.
"I don't give a shit about your business!" Jarvan roared. He looked from Jagen to Shyvana frantically, hoping that Shyvana would agree to back away from the fight. However, Shyvana remained persistent, having made up her mind. "Shyvana! It's not worth it! Yield!"
Shyvana glared at him incredulously. "It's not like you have a choice, prince," she yelled back. "I have nothing to lose. If I lose to a mere human like him, it proves me an unworthy opponent for the drake. I will win, or die," her focus returned to Pantheon again, whose face was hard as stone.
"Damn it!" Jarvan cursed and shot an angry glare at Jagen. Jagen pretended not to notice, his gaze fixed on the battle that was about to begin.
August stood forward, his eyes staring ahead at the fight. "You really care about her, prince?" his voice was cold and emotionless, and Jarvan could not tell if he was disgusted or curious about his concern for the half-dragon.
"It's just…" he cleared his throat awkwardly. "She's with us, it would be a shame to lose her before we know the whereabouts of the drake,"
August nodded, and said nothing.
Is it true, though? Jarvan rubbed his palm against his thigh, feeling uneasy with what he felt within. Deep inside, he knew what he said to August wasn't exactly the truth, and what he felt underneath frightened him so much that he denied it.
True, the half-dragon was the most extraordinary creature he had ever met, but he refused to admit that he held any true feelings for her.
I am a prince, he reminded himself mentally. I do not fall for creatures like her. A prince does not marry for love. He marries for duty, for the sake of his country. For the sake of the Lightshields.
So, why does her well-being concern me?
Before he could think of an answer, a loud, resounding trumpet roared in the air.
Just as the trumpet was blown, Pantheon and Shyvana dashed forward, weapons raised and eyes fixed on each other.
Pantheon had his shield up protecting his torso, just as Shyvana held up the larger gauntlet in a defensive stance. With an alarming speed, both attempted a thrust at their necks. Steel met steel, and sparks flew everywhere.
Shyvana grunted as she stepped backwards, putting distance between them for the next attack. Pantheon swept his spear low, trying to slice her feet to render her immobile. Where she lacked in strength, however, she excelled in speed. She evaded his sweep gracefully, and countered with an uppercut, which Pantheon quickly blocked with his shield.
The weight of the shield and spear and all his equipment should have depleted his stamina, but Pantheon was relentless. He thrust his spear again, and when it missed he drew back and lunged again, eager to strike a vital point. His muscles worked like a well-oiled machine, quick and efficient, never breaking a sweat.
Shyvana dodged each and every one of his thrusts, looking for an opening to attack. For now, she could still match with Pantheon's monstrous speed, but she knew soon she would begin to tire, and no doubt Pantheon would take the chance to plunge his spear into her neck.
She waited for him to thrust again, and when he did, Shyvana sidestepped and grabbed his spear.
If her opponent was shocked, he did not show it. Shyvana tugged on his spear, expecting him to be pulled forward. But Pantheon held fast, his sandals skidding against the rough sand floors as he pulled back. With a loud grunt, he pulled his spear roughly, pulling Shyvana towards him.
She stumbled forward as her arms flailed frantically, trying to regain her footing. Pantheon charged forward and slammed his shield into her shoulder, throwing her backwards. He held his spear above his head, and brought it down upon her head.
The roar of the crowd was deafening, filled with bloodlust and an insatiable hunger for blood.
Shyvana fell on her rear, but noticed the glint of the spear. She laid flat on her back and threw her legs over her head, performing a backflip just as the spear ran deep into the floor of the arena. Pantheon obviously did not expect this, and as he tried to pull out his spear, Shyvana charged forward with a loud battle cry.
Pantheon let go of his spear and pushed his shield forward. Shyvana's gauntlets bounced against his shield harmlessly. Nonetheless, she followed up with a flurry of jabs and punches to his head and torso, forcing Pantheon backwards as he continued to block her blows with his shield. Shyvana couldn't help but grin triumphantly.
"Is this the best you could do?" she roared, throwing a punch forward blindly. She threw her fist a little too far, but that was enough for Pantheon to draw his shield backwards and slam it against her jaw, the sound of snapping bone ringing in the air.
The crowd cheered again.
Fuck, Shyvana staggered backwards and rubbed her jaw. With a flick of her wrist she set her broken jaw back into place, spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor. Pantheon had already pulled out his spear, moving into position for his next attack.
"Arrogance brings doom, half-dragon," he spoke. His voice was cold and harsh. "You should have put on a helmet,"
In her mind, she could almost imagine Jarvan wagging a finger at her with that stupid, smug grin of his, saying 'I told you so'.
Annoyed, she let fire run around her gauntlets, waving it around in a taunting manner. The dust around the arena rose, responding to the swirling heat around her.
"Getting serious, are we?" he said. And Shyvana swore she could see his lips flicker, showing the hint of a smile.
"Isn't this what you want? To fight a dragon?"
"Let's begin, then!" he charged forward, his spear aiming for her neck.
Shyvana roared, and raised her right gauntlet. Fire danced around her arm dangerously, and left a trail of sizzling air behind as she brought it down onto the spear. The tip of his spear went red-hot instantly where her burning gauntlet had struck it, and with the help of her flames she was able to throw her left fist forward. It thumped harmlessly against his shield, but she could tell that his shield was heating up.
She could tell that Pantheon noticed a sudden change in speed and strength of his opponent. But instead of feeling intimidated, Pantheon felt a rush of excitement. He twirled his spear above his head, swinging in quick circles that it seemed almost invisible. She felt fire dancing around her feet, and gracefully she dodged his spear.
Now Pantheon seemed crazed. His thrusts were faster and stronger, and each time it whistled past her ear, Shyvana could feel the slight tremble of the air at the tip of her ear. Each strike was swift and precise, and Shyvana urged her flames to burn hotter, feeling uneasy on how such a man could crave for a battle this much.
The half-dragon hopped before executing a downward punch, aiming for his helmet. Pantheon quickly blocked it with his shield, and lashed out his spear with lightning speed. Shyvana reared back and grunted, dodging left to right as he thrust from behind his shield. The spear moved so quickly that she couldn't see it, and there were a couple of times when he nearly speared her heart.
At the last strike, Shyvana ducked. The spear went past her above her head, and Pantheon was thrown forward by his own momentum, leaving his gut exposed. Shyvana saw her chance, and like a tiger, she pounced.
Both her gauntlets dug into Pantheon's breastplate, leaving deep gouges in it. Her flames burnt intensely, and she channeled the heat into the bronze breastplate. Pantheon howled in pain as he felt his skin react to the heat, at the same time pushed backwards by the half-dragon and his reflexes to back away from her immediately. Instinctively, he brought down the butt of the spear upon her head, which Shyvana quickly retreated from her assault.
Just as Shyvana stepped back, Pantheon lashed out again. He threw his spear towards her, swift and sure like a thunder strike. It sailed so quickly in the air that by the time Shyvana could evade, the spear had already whistled past her cheek, leaving a deep gash across it.
She was both shocked and amused. "You just threw your only weapon away. Desperate, aren't you?"
Pantheon grinned. "And so you think," Without hesitation, he sprinted towards the half-dragon with his shield forward, attempting to slam her head-on.
Shyvana summoned her flames around her feet, and mustering all her strength, she threw a fist towards her oncoming opponent. Sparks flew and flames spread everywhere when they both collided, and surprisingly, Shyvana found herself being pushed back by the Rakkor.
Leaving her no choice, she rolled to the side, watching as Pantheon barreled past her and charged towards his spear. Quickly, he picked up his spear, twirling it around with a taunting manner.
"Let's end this, half-dragon," Pantheon's voice boomed throughout the arena intentionally. "It's either you, or I,"
Shyvana's eyes narrowed as she watched him from the other side of the arena, her gauntlets ready in an offensive stance. She said nothing, and waited for his next strike.
Pantheon held his spear in front of him, with his shield in the middle. His head was hung low, and for once, it seemed as though he was praying, perhaps asking for the blessings of his gods. Shyvana found this gesture queer and suspicious, raising her gauntlets for his next move.
Without warning, Pantheon crouched low. And he leapt.
The crowd had gone silent at this point, watching as Pantheon sailed gracefully into the air, his spear held above his head. He flipped in the air thrice, his red cape billowing behind him like a proud flag. His helmet caught the glimmer of the rays of the sun, and there was a brief moment when his bulk covered the sun, casting a shadow over the arena.
Even Shyvana watched with her mouth gaped open in awe. No ordinary man could jump this high.
She was broken from her trance when Pantheon suddenly descended, the spear tip coming down upon her, fast. She stepped backwards quickly just as the spear struck the ground.
Shyvana was about to grin triumphantly, until the arena exploded and quaked violently, taking the grin off her face.
Just as Pantheon's spear was planted deep into the ground, dust and debris rose rapidly as the ground shook. The impact threw Jarvan and his men off balance, and they held onto the railings for dear life. A huge cloud of dust and sand had obscured their view, and neither warriors could be seen.
The audience erupted with cheers and wails and screams, applauding for Pantheon's spectacular move.
"She can't have survived that," Lance, ever the pessimistic, muttered to the prince.
Alfie was amazed. "The Rakkor… They really are something,"
They all murmured in agreement, whereas Jarvan looked on with his brows furrowed. He thought he saw something within the thick mist of debris, a huge figure that was thrice the size of a human.
"No," Jarvan whispered to himself. "This isn't over,"
As though answering him, a loud screech sounded in the arena. The cheers and applause died instantly, and even from afar Jarvan could see the smiles being wiped off the Rakkor's faces.
A bright column of flames shot skywards, breaking the fog of dust. The fire dispersed and exploded, showering the arena with heat. Just then, a large blue-grey dragon emerged from the cloud of flames, her wings pumping as she roared savagely.
All thought that Pantheon had been roasted to a crisp by the dragon, until they gasped in astonishment at the sight of the smaller figure on her back. A long shaft was planted into her back, yet it seemed to anger her and not hurt her.
Pantheon climbed onto Shyvana's back, holding on for dear life as Shyvana propelled herself higher and higher, swerving left and right to get him off her. She roared and screamed and screeched, her wings pumping harder and harder until she suddenly tucked them into her sides for a quick descent.
He could have been thrown off had he not grabbed his spear. The spear that was lodged deep in her hide slid out, and Pantheon gripped her crest tightly as he swung the spear around, this time aiming it at her neck.
Shyvana, however, was oblivious to the threat. She was still busy trying to get Pantheon off her.
Jarvan gripped the railings tightly, hoping that Shyvana could turn the tables. Yet the chances were slim.
Pantheon thrust his spear, just as a column of bright, warm light that came from nowhere engulfed them both. Both were blinded by the brightness of it, and Pantheon's spear missed by an inch. Shyvana lost her bearings as her wings flailed around frantically, trying to block out the light, which sent both of them crashing to the ground.
Everyone in the arena gasped. Even Jagen's eyes were widened with shock.
"Stop this pointless fight, Jagen," a powerful female voice sounded from the other side of the arena. "On my behest," She emerged and faced Jagen. Although a head shorter than him, Jarvan could tell that this woman was well-respected among the Rakkor tribe.
The woman wore golden armor from neck to toe that was polished until it reflected its surroundings, catching the brilliance of the sunlight. She held a large ornate shield in one hand and a double-edged golden sword in another. There may be no crown upon her mane of brown hair, but it was blatant to all that she had more power than Jagen, leader of Kor he may be.
Jagen promptly went down on one knee, his spear placed on the ground before him as a sign of respect. Jarvan noticed that the audience had stood and knelt as well, the duel forgotten. The woman looked upon Jagen with an irritated glare.
"Care to tell me what the ruckus is all about?" she gestured to the tangle of limbs in the middle of the arena. Shyvana had shrunk to her human form, and she still laid dazed underneath Pantheon, who rubbed his eyes furiously.
"They interrupted a warriors' test, Your Radiance," Jagen answered. "By law and tradition, it is punishable by death,"
"Who interrupted?"
Jagen was quiet for a long while before answering. "The prince of Demacia and his company. He has a half-dragon,"
"I'm not his fucking property," Shyvana protested. Her words were a slur, but it was still loud enough for them to hear.
If the woman heard her she chose to ignore her. "It seems to me you're just trying to pick a fight, Jagen. You were intrigued by the half-dragon, and you wished to have her head planted on the walls of your home. Prove me wrong,"
Jagen looked up defiantly. "These people interrupted our rites. By law and tradition –"
"By law and tradition, a Rakkor who interrupts another's battle to prove his worth is punishable by death," she retorted. "Do these people look like Rakkor to you? Foreigners couldn't have known our traditions. And that is the prince of Demacia you're crossing with. Do you wish to start a war?"
"The Rakkor live for war, and will die for war –"
"–Only if we are threatened and are forced to defend our tribe, not to spark a war for the fun of it. The Demacians love their prince like the Rakkor love the sun. Do you think they will let us off this easily if harm was to fall on the prince? What will happen to our tribe's reputation?"
Jagen was silent and looked down in shame. "Forgive me, Your Radiance. They will be released at once," he looked at the prince, though there was no contempt or fury in his gaze. "With fresh supplies for their journey,"
Jarvan didn't bother to hide his surprise.
The woman turned back and approached Jarvan. Where there was fierceness and fury on her face earlier was now replaced by a warm smile as radiant as the sun. "Apologies, Prince Jarvan. You must have been treated poorly,"
Jarvan frowned. "Well, I wasn't the one being treated poorly. My comrade was nearly killed,"
The woman smiled sadly. "For your comrade, I'm sorry as well. I have had refreshments prepared for you and your company, as a form of apology. You and your men are welcomed to stay on Mount Targon for today. Be my guest,"
"I'm pretty sure my half-dragon friend over there," he looked briefly at Shyvana, who was still rolling around muttering gibberish with Pantheon beside her, still blinded by the bright light earlier. "Isn't well-liked by the people here. I don't think it's wise if we stay here,"
"Not here," she laughed heartily. "What I mean was on Mount Targon, the sanctuary of the Solari. No men will dare harm you there, I promise,"
"The higher order of the Rakkor who prayed to the sun?" Jarvan spoke with wonder. "And you are one of them?"
"Well, kind of," she smiled. "The mules have been prepared for the ride to the summit. We can head out anytime soon. I suppose your friend needs help," she glanced at Shyvana and Pantheon, who were now sitting up, hands groping blindly ahead of them. "I must have used too much of the sun's energy, they still can't see,"
"You knew my name, and you did not tell me yours," Jarvan said.
"Oh, of course. Where are my manners?" she held out a hand in warm greeting. The prince shook it gently, surprised with the warmth of her hand. "My name's Leona, and I am known among my tribe as the Radiant Dawn, or the Chosen of the Sun as they like to call me," she blushed slightly, then her face turned serious. "There is much to discuss, prince. It's best if we move out now,"
"What is there to discuss?" Jarvan and his men followed Leona as she headed towards the foot of Mount Targon. The people in the arena had begun to disperse, ushered by the other soldiers. A few others helped Shyvana and Pantheon to their feet.
Leona did not turn back. She hastened her pace. "Things that you, as the Crown Prince of Demacia, should know. And I am curious about your presence at the Great Barrier,"
They continued their walk in silence then, and rode the mules provided up the steep slopes of Mount Targon.
Near the peak of Mount Targon, the air was chilly and the cold winds beat against the snow covered mountain top. Yet, in the temple, the guests barely felt the chill.
Once inside the Solari temple, Leona had requested for Jarvan and Shyvana's presence to the dining hall. Jarvan's men were offered meat and mead with their prince as well, but they knew that the prince's business with the Rakkor warrior was none of their concern, and they agreed to break bread with the Solari priests in the mess halls, leaving the half-dragon and the prince to dine with Leona.
Shyvana had thought of joining the men, but the animosity of some of the men, especially August, towards her irked her terribly. And the last thing she wanted was to be stared like a freak by the old religious Solari priests in the mess halls. At least the prince wouldn't look at her with fear or disdain.
When entering the dining hall, which was a chamber reserved for feasts and the privileged ones, Jarvan did not expect it to be so demure. The hall was spacious, with four large statues of Rakkor warriors carved into the corners of the marble walls. Where he expected a cut-glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, was instead a huge intricately shaped sundial, with a beautiful mural of the golden sun painted upon the ceiling. What gave light to the chamber were the scones of fire planted upon the walls, and the lighted candles on the dais of each statue.
And in the middle was a long, dark-coloured teak table, with food already prepared and served. Jarvan thought a figure as revered as Leona herself would be served with roasted suckling pigs and expensive quail eggs and other delicacies. Instead, on the table was a decent course of pork porridge and grilled freshwater trout, served with buttered bread and pickled fruits, and a pitcher of rich, red wine.
And so they dined, Jarvan careful with his fork and spoon like a royalty would, once and twice eying Shyvana when she carved a few slices of the trout for herself.
"I apologize if the meal is not up to your standards," Leona smiled at him, taking a sip from her goblet. "We live alone by the blessings of the Sun God, and could only reap what we sow. I do not doubt that dishes such as these were fit for commoners back in Demacia,"
"It's nothing," Jarvan answered politely. "I am far from home, and meals such as these are a blessing for me. You have no idea how hard is it to hunt for game in the Great Barrier,"
"That's because you suck at hunting," Shyvana snorted, earning a chuckle from Leona and an angry glare from Jarvan.
"And the bold half-dragon," Leona lifted her goblet in admiration. "I have seen much in the Great Barrier, but a creation from the union of a human and a dragon… You are truly a wonder,"
Shyvana lifted her eyebrows and smirked. "If only more people were like you. Your tribe is as formidable and strong as my father said,"
"Did Shyvana, the half-dragon just make a compliment?" Jarvan laughed. Shyvana shot him an irritated glare, which he pretended not to notice. "Anyway, Leona. You mentioned earlier you had something of importance to tell me,"
"Yes," she lifted a spoonful of porridge to her mouth. "Have you heard about the unease in Kalamanda?"
The prince frowned. "The small town known for its rich minerals and ore? I'm afraid not. But I do remember that my father was trying to strike a bargain with the Mayor, seeking for a trading deal for the town's minerals. Demacia even sent their own miners to the town. Is something amiss?"
"The mine collapsed two months ago," Leona's tone was dead serious. "Trapping several Demacians within. Charges were raised against Noxus. I've heard nothing but bits and pieces, except that before the collapse Garen Crownguard and Katarina Du Couteau represent their states to try to encourage a deal with Kalamanda,"
Jarvan's lips curled in disgust at the name of the country that Demacia had had feuds with since the first Lightshield ascended to the throne, and even more so at the mention of the notorious red-haired assassin, the daughter of Marcus Du Couteau. He took a few gulps of wine, urging Leona to continue.
"The collapse was believed to be manmade. I am not familiar with the details, but I was told that tension had already begun long before the collapse. There had been riots, and Garen and Katarina stopped the skirmishes, but the conflict between the states was too strong. There were other complications as well, of a man that claimed that he was under the order of Demacia to bombard the mine –"
"Demacia would never do that," Jarvan shook his head with disapproval.
"-to make it seem like Noxus was at fault. Jericho Swain was said to head out to Kalamanda, as well as your father, King Jarvan III," Leona frowned. "Even Kalamanda had withdrawn the contract they were supposed to sign with Demacia, until the conflict is resolved,"
"Such vile and cunning scheme. Only Noxus is capable of something like this. They want a trade with Kalamanda as well," his tone became furious. "No doubt Swain would do all he can to smear mud upon the name of Demacia,"
Even Shyvana, who was enjoying a buttered bread and was reaching for a second helping, looked up in shock at Jarvan's venomous tone. His face was distorted in fury, glaring at Leona.
Leona was not intimidated by his gaze. "I do not know who is at fault, Noxus or Demacia. As I said, I don't know the full story. What I do know is that if neither city-states admit their mistake, this could grow into a full-blown war. And Kalamanda will be in the middle of it,"
Jarvan said nothing.
"Even your father and Swain have made their appearances. And there are rumours that General Boram Darkwill will head out to Kalamanda soon. If a war breaks out, all the lives in Kalamanda would perish,"
"And if the war comes, the Rakkor will intervene?"
Leona laid down her goblet. "Don't take this the wrong way. The Rakkor takes no part in other states' wars. We ally with no one, and only fight if provoked. Unless this war threatens our tribe, we will not raise our weapons for no reason,"
"Then why are you telling me this?"
"Because you are the Crown Prince of Demacia. You are supposed to be there in your father's stead. Instead, you've gone missing for more than two years. And it seems you have a half-dragon in your company," she looked at Shyvana.
"I am on an important quest," Jarvan looked away, unable to look her in the eye.
"A quest that is more important than your country's welfare?"
Jarvan opened his mouth to answer, before Shyvana cut in.
"He's on a quest to better himself," she said. "He's learning how to rule, how to serve his country as a proper prince, how to correct his mistakes. And we're on our way to slay a drake, a creature that has tormented towns and cities for several years. He's doing something good and crucial for humanity,"
Jarvan was dumbfounded by her praise. And what she said appeared to peak Leona's interest. Her eyebrow raised in question, before Shyvana continued.
"That drake was after me, and he slew my father. I thought of going after him, then I met Jarvan, who offered to help me on my quest. He made me a promise," she looked Jarvan in the eye, daring him to deny it. "He said a prince must keep his promises, or else the people won't follow him. And if he ever keeps his word, I'll be the witness of that,"
Jarvan cleared his throat uncomfortably. He could sense the threat in Shyvana's words. If you lie to me, I will tear you to pieces.
"The drake," Leona tapped her chin, her eyes somewhere else in deep thought. "Was it the black one?"
Both Jarvan and Shyvana were shocked, and threw each other a hopeful glance. "Have you seen him?"
"We saw a black dragon flying north just two days ago. He flew slowly, as though he was wounded. Since he was flying away from Mount Targon, I suppose he posed no threat, so we ignored it. And now that you mentioned it…"
"North," Shyvana muttered. "He's heading to the Ironspike Mountains,"
Jarvan frowned. "How can you be so sure?"
"The mountain ranges there are cold, suitable for hibernation. The drake would stay there to recover. Many dragons have made temporary lairs in the Ironspike Mountains,"
"That would mean we have to cross Noxus to get there," Jarvan's groaned. "It's too dangerous,"
"And with the turmoil in Kalamanda, Noxus must have bolstered their forces. There's a huge risk that you will be captured if you cross the Noxian land," Leona added.
"We can't take the road up to Marshes of Kaladoun as well," Jarvan shook his head sadly. "Kalamanda is somewhere near there, and we would risk being found by either Demacia or Noxus,"
"You can go there by sea," Leona suggested. Jarvan and Shyvana only looked at her quizzically. She sighed and laid a map of Valoran in the middle of the table. "Take the route down Mogron Pass into Shurima Desert, then head east along the Great Barrier to the southern Noxian harbor, then take a passage and head north by Guardian's Sea, to the northern Noxian harbor. Both harbors are situated at the Noxian borders, thus smaller risks in getting caught. Disguise yourself well, though,"
Shyvana laid a finger on the map, the faint wording reading 'Mogron Pass'. "Can't we head north of Mogron Pass directly? We wouldn't have to cross the desert, and it would be faster,"
"If you do so, you'll be walking on Noxian land. In case you don't know, some of us have spotted Noxians near the Great Barrier occasionally, for what reason I'm not sure. And they seemed to be assassins," Leona explained, and Jarvan nodded in agreement.
"However," Leona ran a finger down Mogron Pass, stopping at a huge span of land where it was painted gold. "It is easy to lose your way in the Shuriman Desert. And rumour has it that the Xer'Sai had claimed their territory further north, terrorizing merchants on their way,"
"Xer'Sai?" Shyvana's lips curled in distaste. "Those sand creatures that swim beneath the sands?"
Jarvan crossed his arms. "I have not seen one, but it is said that in a swarm, they can be deadly,"
"True," Leona nodded. "And so, I have a friend who can lead you through the desert safely, that is if the sandstorms are not strong. Still, he's a frequent traveler in the desert, and I met him once on a chance encounter. He's surefooted and able, surely he can help you on your way east. If I ask him for a favor, he will be here tomorrow at first light. You're in a hurry for your quest, aren't you?"
Jarvan couldn't help but smile at her generosity. "Thank you, Leona," he stood and offered her a hand. She smiled and shook it. "Pray tell, who might he be?"
"It's not a question of who he is," Leona laughed. "But what he is,"
Now, if you've read the Journal of Justice, you would find a few changes in the Kalamanda Conflict I described here. Believe me, it's all part of the plot, and if I explain any further I would spoil the story. Let me know if you have any questions.
There will be more champions making their appearance in the chapters to come. Also, updates will be less frequent. School has started, and I've got coursework and all kinds of stuff. I'm sorry for that.
Let me know if you liked this chapter, whether the battle scene is good enough, or anything else. Once again, reviews are very much appreciated! Thank you.