A sand was telling of the steady feet it had scorched to death, and an ancient desert was telling of the great men it had desiccated, while a sun, seeming so bright and good, was telling of the most passionate minds and willing bodies it had evaporated with its burning, blinding rays.
And there, surrounded by an odd wilderness, one that restrained the human body rather than granting a simple freedom or primitive life, treaded a half naked man in chains. Encircling him, marching steadily, fully armored in black with swords hanging from their belts and whips held as an extension of their dark, cold bodies, the bands of Talat brutes stared with such blind hatred upon Leo as they slaved him across the desert. The deep brown hue of his eyes and gracious, long thick hair and beard gave him a look of honesty that reassured all men, women, and children around him. His very presence was calming, and the power of the simple logic in his words gained him trust. Men called him King of Ardacha. He ruled a beautiful land where grass, green as they come, embraced fields with grace and grew triple the size of any man. Encircled by mountains not of snow, nor of dry rocks, but of vegetation, blessed by the presence of the most wondrous animal life there ever was. Wild winged tigers colored in deep hues of red and orange, vicious blue glistening horses faster than the wind, giant tortoises wiser than the smartest of men. And among the wild life there is said to exist the legendary unimmortal half holy angels who grew tired of heaven. There they lived in peace, without the ancient responsibility of civilizations weighing on their burdened souls. Blessed by the presence of such an extraordinary nature, the Ardachayans lived in peace. Long ago, thier ancestors had balanced their drive for intelligence and their devotion to the sword. From this balance was created the greatest swordsmen the world has ever known. But over time, as in any successful civilization, excellence in battle and the ancient philosophy of balance between mind and sword had been watered down by an endless golden age. Honing their intelligence rather than their spears, they became brilliant but vulnerable.
The golden age lasted generation after generation, until there came a time plagued by wraiths. They came to be called Galgars, raised from infancy, born as a black embodiment of a sable force that is most closely described as a soul, but not related to it in any way. They were not of flesh and bones, but of mist heavily armored in black plates of metal and equipped with weapons forged in the center of the earth. His people slaughtered, raped, and his kin executed, his home incinerated by the armies of Talat, he walked with every step immersed in weakness in what once was the build of a god but now frail and emasculated body.
Defeated, dispirited, and emaciated, he was near death. His family, whipped at every cessation or sign of slowing down, continued to suffer across the desert in chains. Until the brutes began to whisper to each other and began looking intently on Elowan, Queen of Ardacha. A group of four of them had lascivious smirks about them as the lust in their eyes became more visible with every passing thought of raping her. Leo saw what was occurring before him. He saw the looks on their faces and knew what was about to happen. They grabbed her and began to rip her clothes off. There wasn’t much to cover her except for the chains around her ankles and wrists. When she realized what the brutes were about to do, tears spread from her eyes to her cheeks until they fell upon the sand just an arm’s length from Leo. He could do nothing, helpless and paralyzed by the heat. She covered herself as much she could with her hands in preparation for what was to come. What began as a heap of hopelessness grew into something that frightened even himself. A fear struck his heart, unleashing a rage that paralyzed him. His mind and body went numb as the sensation dominated his every movement. Clutching his fists, tightening his jaw, flexing every muscle in his body, unleashing a bawl of such frightening a combination of strength and rage, he broke the chains binding his hands and feet together and shot through the air to protect his wife. With the chains in his right hand and a fist in the other, he struck the four brutes. Elowan screaming in tears was thrown onto the sand about to be raped. The brutes picked themselves up from the first blow. The king picked up his wife and began to run. Thrusting one foot in front of the other, the sand could exert no measure of pain strong enough to stop him. The brutes stumbled behind them in an increasing distance from him as he continued to careen across the powerless desert.
Precious minutes had turned into long hours, and the brutes began to gain on Leo. He was losing strength quickly, the rage inside him had died, and now fear solely dominated him. Coughing blood from his brittle heart out of his withering throat, Leo was near collapse, having eaten nothing for months. The sand consumed his mind and the desert began to exert power once again upon his body. Elowan became too heavy for him to carry any longer, the brutes continued to run toward them with their whips held high. It was eating at his mind, that moment, when he was confined by the chains, paralyzed by the desert, looking up, helplessly at the rape that was about to occur. But now, Leo knew he was too weak to run any farther, he was too weak to carry Elowan any longer.
He fell to his knees and dropped Elowan on the sand. He opened his palms toward the sky and looked upward staring directly at the sun. He called upon his Almighty Father coughing blood with every breath, with his words he spoke into the light,
"Holy Father at this hour,
I am dying.
I have ruled men for ages in your name and in your love and have ruled beings untold with your right hand,
Yet never have I ruled nature.
Take her, my wife, my only one, into your hands and love her for all eternity for if this is my last day you must care for her as I have...
God our Father,
Help us,
Help me,
For at this hour,
I am lost and broken,
Give me your grace,
And do not forsake us your sons,
We are the land of your Kingdom,
Holy and Mighty,
Fight for us and for her foremost!"
He heard the sibilation of the wind at first carelessly but ferociously blowing the sand across the desert, tearing apart nearly anything in its path. But now, the grains began to circle around Leo, the sand caressed his face. The grains continued to circle and Leo continued to stare at the light, when a portion of the sun began to separate. It began to descend toward him and the light became overwhelmingly powerful. It came closer and closer until Leo could not bare the gleam and thus closed his eyes; yet regardless, the light did not leave his sight when he closed his eyes. The light covered all surroundings and the whiteness became all that could be seen. The sand in the air began to burn until it turned into a fiery red, forming into the shape of a sword. The wind had stopped, the sand was still, and an unfamiliar silence was upon Leo. The sword began to drop until it hit the sand with the sound of gold hitting silver, forged above, sharp and eternal, resonating through the white openness, it fell before him and lay motionless on the surface. It was unknown from which direction the voice came when in a frighteningly overpowering utterance, was spoken, “Fight them.”
In an instant, the light vanished, the sibilation of the wind blowing sand, suffused the air once again, and the bands of brutes were within striking distance. Elowan remained unconscious, laying motionless on the sand. Leo, his eyes still recovering from the light, was kneeling still. Scores of them, nearing 100 in total, with whips in their hand and a sword in the other, were shouting and pushing closer towards Leo, who remained kneeling turned toward the opposite direction with his back to the brutes. The leading brute thrusting his leg forward with a sizable step, pulled his sword to his side and swung it in the path of the kneeling king’s neck.
In an unnoticeable, split moment, with a tilt of his head, the brute’s sword cut the weightless air, as Leo lifted the long grave blade of resonant glass, wrenching his body around and slicing the sword through the cold blood of the brute’s legs with the roar of lions. The black figure fell, crippled to Leo's side with the glass sword reflecting light through the dark blood of the brute. He looked upon the army before him, and uttered a prayer that would one day, ages hence, be spoken through the lips of St. David, "Ոչ երկեայց ես ի բիւրուց զօրաց նոցա, ոյք շուրջանակի պատեալ պաշարեալպահէինզիս:"
With ten thousand angels behind him, he charged forth into the desert wind with sword without shield and ended the darkness that plagued his people.
“Փարք Աստուծոյ եւ մեր Թաքավորի որ կը զորաւորանէ մեզի անմայ պատերազմի,” he shouted into the night. And with hands uplifted and voice eternal he sung with angels and seraphim, breathing his last ages and ages hence upon his bed and in the arms of his queen.
And as she herself saw in vision before his holy rest, it will be only until the call of Christ, in the last days after the thousand years to fight for the fortress of the saints and for the beloved city of the Lord, that he will rise, holy and mighty, holy and immortal, having given himself for us in sacrifice.
Արմէն Լեւոն Արտաշեսեան
Armen Leo Artashesian