~A KING'S PRIDE~ (THE LEGEND OF SILVERHEEL)

MARSIL COUGHED OUT A PILE OF DIRT as he moved to speak but his throat was clogged.

"You do not need to speak, my child..." The man continued. "...just listen to the sound of my voice. I am a wizard and can save you from the beast trying to kill you but I won't."

Marsil's eyes widened against the dirt. Was the man just going to let him die? He coughed out some more sand.

"You are not human like them. You are a vampire but more so, the child of a most powerful bloodline. The sun in its fierceness cannot hurt you because you are more than a bloodchild. You are a reincarnation and only you can save yourself."

Gryther's words flowed the distance to Marsil and he felt his flesh start to heal.

"RISE MY DEAR BOY! Rise and destroy this cruel monster above you..."

Gryther's words faded, echoing over and over in Marsil's ears.

AND HE ROSE.

He spit out the sand. The blood drained from his nose and the scars on his face healed. With effort, he lifted the broken arm and placed it flat on the earth. He pushed up with it. The pain threatened to send him back down but he pushed up still. Halfway up, he heard the bones arranging. Gryther's words echoed continuously in his ears as a drowning whisper.

"Rise, dear boy. RIISSSEEEE!!!"

The shrieking crowd fell silent when they saw he was lifting up. They peered at his rising form in wonder. Vandal saw this too and moved to end him quickly. His axe crashed down but never struck flesh. Marsil's hand went up at the last moment, the once broken arm stopping the deadly descent.

Vandal struggled to free his axe but Marsil's grip was stronger than iron. His veins flowed with a new blood. The blood of the Faeries. His strength was renewed, greater than a hundred men. With his hand on the axe, he lifted up to his full height. Vandal's eyes widened before the blow crashed.

Marsil's fist went up to his jaw quicker than he could blink, and the man went flying ten feet into the air. The people were shocked. Vandal was big and bulky. The blow could only mean one thing. Marsil possessed superhuman strength. Vandal crashed to the earth some moments later and went tumbling through the sands.

Marsil lifted up his head to the sky and a dark cloud covered over the stadium. He let out a loud roar that froze the blood of the crowd.

The roar was frightening, more of a shrill wail. His voice cut across the entire arena and the sands danced on the earth.

Vandal was still stunned on the floor when Marsil lowered his head. The dark cloud cleared away and the sun lit through once more. His eyes gleamed pure white in fury as he took a step. Then another. He ran a small distance then jumped in the air, to a height no human could possibly manage.

Vandal's eyes glossed over as Marsil dropped down with rushing fury. He sent his fist to the man's face and the earth visibly shook. A wave rose, sweeping out at the blow and dust rose in the air.

When the dust cleared and the crowd looked once more to the sands, Marsil was rising. He lifted his fist dripping blood from Vandal's face, and there was the man's big head, smashed like a melon against the sands. A visible splatter spread round the gore of his squashed skull in an uneven circle.

Vandal the Titan was dead.

Marsil walked away from the unmoving body to the great battle-axe forlorn on the sands. He gripped it, lifting it high into the air and not one second later, the crowd thundered in madness. They screamed so loud the bricks of the stadium shivered.

It was never heard of that a challenger beat Vandal the Titan.

Marsil stood with the battle-axe raised as the crowd rent the arena. The king stood to his feet also, clapping with the crowd. Everyone went to their feet. The men went wild and some wanton women openly pulled out their breasts, cupping their tits to Marsil. The men laughed and thundered louder. Chants of Silverheel filled the air as men and women rejoiced in the shrunken mass of the great Titan.

Arlon smiled at this. Silverheel was the new Champion of Calipsos. His son, Marsil.

Staring at his son, Arlon felt a warm feeling move over his heart. It was glory and pride in the vampire warrior.

Marsil stood in the centre of the arena, with a broken silver mask, gleaming with the blood of his adversary. In the days following, men never forgot about the mysterious fighter that slew the Titan.

Marsil became the Legend of Silverheel.

Gryther however shrank back into the shadows, dissolving into the darkness and vanishing off to the Moor where Elrina waited for him with a welcoming smile and a steaming porridge. As he gulped down the delicacy, he couldn't help but hope that he hadn't unknowingly birthed a killer.