Disclaimer: I don’t own Beyblade.

I’m using the Japanese-version names (or name in this particular chapter):

Yuri = Tala

 

For All Who Gave Their Lives

 

Chapter 1: Flash of the Blade

 

 As a young boy chasing Dragons

   with your wooden sword so mighty.

You’re St. George and you’re David and you always

   killed the beast.

Times change very quickly,

And you had to grow up early,

A house in smoking ruins and the bodies

   at your feet.

                                                    (Iron Maiden ‘Flash of the Blade’)

 

  That day seemed different than the others. It was seldom that it didn’t snow on the Northern Plains in the winter. But on that day the sun was shinning brightly, making the snow sparkle. It was a beautiful sight. Still the animals were oddly silent, as tough they were aware that something terrible will happen.

 The people in the tower noticed, how very peculiar it was. But they didn’t really pay attention – what do animals know? They were creatures of higher intellect and weren’t going to cower before whatever made the animals silent. And, anyway, their master was a powerful mage, so they felt safe. They were not only protected by magic, but also by swords and arrows of trained warriors.

 Swordfighters were now training on the quadrangle. Two of them had red-hair. One was a burly woman with shrewd, grey eyes. The other one was training with a two-hander sword, which seemed unfit for a willowy youth with a long plait. You’d rather expect he’d brake under the weight of great sword and yet he remained graceful and swift, as if he were handling a much lighter weapon. He regarded his opponent – the red-haired woman – calmly, waiting for a right moment to strike. His clear, blue eyes were fixed on her, as if there wasn’t anything else what could matter.

 Suddenly something started to happen. The air filled with the stench of rotting meat and sulphur. A big group of undead appeared out of thin air. The youth leaped forward, but the woman caught his arm.

-         You stay back. – her voice was hard. – A trainee would only bother. We can take those cadavers out alone.

 The boy nodded. He stayed near to one of the walls at the entrance, ready to leap into battle. It seemed there would be no need for him to act. The guards were successfully fending the undead off. Yet the situation soon changed. Another wave of the living dead appeared – this time much more powerful. Maybe three demi-liches, which immediately started to cast their own spells and several vampires were only a part of the aggressors. The defenders were obviously in trouble.

-         Somebody get the Master! – yelled one of the warriors. – We need magi!

 The red-haired youth turned around and dashed into the tower. It seemed peaceful and safe – unknowing and untouched by the attack. He run up stairs, not paying attention to the people inside. Some stared at him surprisedly. Only once did he run into someone. A middle aged mage opened his eyes widely and grabbed his arm, stopping him.

-         Why in such a hurry?

-         We’re under attack! – the youth answered and run off before the man had time to react.

 The red-head had reached a large door. He bolted in, opening them in mid-run. Inside was a laboratory–like room. There were various mixtures on the tables, which crowded the place. There was also a large cupboard completely filled with books. A long-haired, shortish man stood in front of a bottle full of a boiling liquid. He was pale and slander, a true elf. His features were almost the same as the boys in front of him.

-         Yes Yuri? – he asked, sounding surprised.

-         We’re under attack! – cried Yuri. – Haven’t you noticed?

 The elf went to the window and looked out.

-         Yes. – he said grimly. He turned around and a second later a tiny bird flew through the door, making much more noise than one could expect from such a tiny creature. The elf was facing the youth again. – That should warn the other magi. – he said and raised one hand. A moment later they were on the quadrangle very near a wall.

-         Stay near and cover me. – the mage addressed Yuri. The red-head nodded. And so the elf started casting his spells. He was swift and effective. It seemed his power alone would save the situation. But suddenly a new foe appeared - a strange half-rotten, half-parched creature in a long robe. His eyes were covered by a mask, but it didn’t stop them from glowing red.

-         A lich! – gasped Yuri. The undead mage raised one hand and waved it dismissively. A ball of fire formed immediately and flew in the direction of the fighters, who were fending off the undead. It crashed with a roar, charging the dead and the living alike. The stench of burned flesh mixed with that of rotting bodies. The only survivors were those near the towers walls.

-         Mother! – screamed the youth and leaped forward.

-         Stay here. – the elven mage growled. – There are already enough dead. – he added and started chanting. Meanwhile, the lich was killing the remaining defenders one by one. Finally, the elf finished his spell. A fist-sized, blue ball of light hit the undead on after another, killing them on the spot. The lich noticed it and covered himself with his cloak. The ball hissed and disappeared after touching the material.

-         I will not give up so easily. – He hissed. – I will come back elf and you’d better remember my name: I am Balkov!

 And he vanished. Yuri sat down on the cold stone.

-         I’m sorry. – said the mage. – I wish, I could save your mother. You’ll try to avenge her?

 The red-head nodded silently.

-         Come to the smithy later. – the mage turned around and walked away. The youth stood up and took out a dagger. He grabbed his hair and cut it so it was only shoulder length now. A part of a braid remained in his hand. He dropped the rests of the plait, which instantly started to burn. His hair stood up, leaving only two strands on his face. He turned around and walked away.

 

 The red-haired youth stood in the smithy facing the elven mage. There was a two-hander sword lying on an anvil. It seemed to be normal, but the blade felt unnaturally cold.

-         It was supposed to be your mothers. – said the mage. – You should take it.

Yuri took the sword and tried a few cuts. It was well-balanced and surprisingly light.

-         Thank you. – he said. – Spasiba wam atiec.

-         Doswidania rebinok. – answered the elf. – Doswidania.

 

A/N

Spasiba wam atiec.(Russian) – thank you father.

Doswidania rebinok. (Russian) – goodbye child.

I wouldn’t advice anyone to use that Russian over there – it might contain some serious mistakes – I can’t speak Russian and had to ask my parents, who learned long, long ago. And I do know, I shouldn’t have done that, but the languages I know didn’t fit.

 A lich is an undead mage (usually a necromancer). A demi-lich isn’t a half of a lich, but a weaker form a lich.

 

Go to chapter 2

Back to my stories