by RG Long
Spears of Ladis
Legends of Gilia, Volume 9
RG Long
Published by Retrovert Books, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SPEARS OF LADIS
First edition. November 20, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 RG Long.
Written by RG Long.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Maps and More
1: The Will to Fight
2: Capital Fires
3: Useless
4: Wounded
5: Back Again
6: Break Out
7: Tunnels
8: Fortunes Vary
9: Bitter Tastes
10: The Plans of Gods
11: Crumbling
12: No Opportunity Wasted
13: Ice Cold
14: Uneasy Retreat
15: Miracle
16: Campfire
17: Innocence
18: Questions
19: North
20: Snart in the Dark
21: Sacrifices
22: The Dark Prince
23: Revenged
24: Shoes of the Weary
25: The Potion Master
26: The Plan of The Exiled
27: Scouts
28: Failure
29: Priestly Ambitions
30: Capital City
31: Snart and the Underlings
32: Throne of Their Fathers
33: The Lost
34: The Light
35: Pul and His Men
36: Close at Hand
37: Battle Lines
38: Power Unleashed
39: David’s Last Battle
40: The Prince Arrives
41: Unrevoked
42: Pul’s Last Charge
43: Flight of the Companions
44: Down the Mountain
45: Fresh Blood
46: Racing For It
47: The Bravest
48: Possessed that Fight
49: Sacrifices
50: Split
51: Keep the Men Alive
52: Screams
53: Proven
54: Defiance
55: Deeper Caverns
56: The Shores of the Saved
57: Hope
58: Eastward
59: Towards Unfamiliar Homelands
Author Notes
The Story Continues
Maps and More
Are you so excited for “Spears of Ladis” that you can’t wait to get your hands on more?
Sign-up to my email list to get a free prequel story called “Tales of Ruyn” and a beautiful map of Ladis delivered right to your inbox!
Click here to get your free book, map, and be placed on my weekly newsletter. People on this list are the first to know about new releases, fresh content, and other great Legends of Gilia news!
1: The Will to Fight
Ealrin stumbled as he tried to regain his footing. The rocks and gravel beneath his feet mocked him as he attempted to climb higher up. His ears were full of the clash of steel and the screams of men. If he fell now, he would not recover. Exhaustion was taking its toll on him.
He barely held onto his sword, which was inexplicably warm in his hands. The rest of the world around him was cold and dark.
With one last effort, he felt his foot slide and the weight of the past months come down on him. He was falling. He was going to slip back down into the battle and never come back up again.
And some of that was alright with him.
At the last moment, he felt a strong arm grab him and pull him up onto the rocky cliff face. He didn’t look up to see who it was. He knew.
“Just a bit more,” Holve said.
His voice was rough and calloused. Ealrin had once felt reassured to hear him speak. It had always been a welcome sign that he was where he needed to be. Now it only reminded him of his doubts and current struggles.
“Up here,” Holve said and directed Ealrin to their group. They had gathered on top of this hill for a defensive position. He could see the same worn look on their faces that he felt deep within him. They were broken. Taking in each face, Ealrin nodded at them, still panting from his climb. They returned his gaze.
Well, Ealrin thought bitterly, most of them did anyway.
All around them the battle raged. The blue of Isol clashed against the green of Ladis. Dotted throughout the shifting tides of battle, the brilliant shining purple lights.
The demons were ravaging the soldiers. No matter where Isol and Ladis fought, the great four-legged demons tore through them. It was only in these places that the green and blue did not battle each other but instead turned to face the more pressing attack.
Ealrin let out a deep sigh that seemed to push all the air from around him further away. In the middle of the fighting, a circle of destruction and magic exploded as three forces collided. Yada’s terrible blue light struck out at the purple of Prince Dram. Ealrin saw the flashing red of the demon-possessed one as well. All three danced in a horrific explosion of power and magic.
“Can’t we stop them?” Ealrin said out loud, feeling hopeless as the great beasts tore through the armies, seemingly uncaring about who they devoured with their power.
Holve stepped forward, spear in hand. Its tip was glowing with a pearly white sheen. Ealrin knew what it had cost him to face one of these demons the last time. He guessed that was what reeled through Holve’s mind, even though his exterior remained calm and collected.
Then Ealrin saw something flash in the corner of his eye. He knew what that was. It felt familiar and powerful.
“No!” he yelled, trying to step towards the light, but he found that he couldn’t move.
Her magic was strong. He knew that all too well. But she was too tired, too hungry, and too spent to go up against these terrors.
Not now.
“You can’t do it, Blume!” he shouted.
She was just as tired as he was. Perhaps more so. They had both been through the same ordeal only to arrive at this battle. They had both suffered and run and fought only to find themselves in the midst of a struggle they had no control over.
How could she possibly have the energy to go against such terrible enemies? They should have fled when they could. They should have gotten off of Ladis when the opportunity presented itself. This was not their war. It wasn't connected to any part of them.
Except for Holve.
He looked sideways at the older man and glared at him for just a moment. He was the reason they were here. A wave of energy hit and caused him to snap his head back to Blume.
Ealrin could feel the power emanating from the girl he so admired.
And was so fearful of losing.
“I have before,” she replied, stepping in front of their group and facing the battle. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the determination in her voice. She was preparing to fight. She was going to defend her friends.
“You’re too weak,” Ealrin pleaded with her.
Blume spun on the spot and faced him.
The bracelet with a piece of rimstone she had been given glowed in her hand. She held it tightly as she glared at Ealrin. An aura of green energy filled the air around her. Even her eyes took on a gleam of the magic.
“I,” she said with as much ferocity as he had ever heard her speak. “Am not weak.”
With those words, she turned and ran towards the towering figure of Yada and the demon, fists and eyes glowing, a scream erupting from deep within her, magic spilling out into the battle.
2: Capital Fires
Jerius stumbled to one side as he made his way down the hall.
He and the high priest had been called from their study when the castle began to quake. It was no small thing; Prommus was supposed to be the most fortified city on the continent. If it was under siege and suffering already, that did not bode well for the Temple.
Or the people who lived there of course.
Jerius did his best to right himself as another tremor shook the temple hall. Guards were running in different directions, putting statues back into place, addressing the needs of prophets who were shouting orders, and for the most part ignoring Jerius completely.
That didn’t bother him.
Not at the moment.
He had more pressing things to consider than sieges and the respect of women.
Clutching the worn book to his chest, he began trotting down the hallway again, determined that he should reach the end of the temple quickly. His message was not one to be delivered late.
There was a small part of him that was resenting being a messenger once again, but when he grasped the codex in his hands a little more tightly, he began to think that he may be able to endure it for a little while longer. It may not be as long as he thought before he was no longer anyone’s errand runner.
The great doors that separated the Temple from the Castle of Prommus stood before him. The guards who were assigned to these doors must be otherwise occupied at the moment. Not a soul was around.
Except for Luca.
She looked over at Jerius and stumbled towards him as another blast shook the castle.
“My Priest,” she said, Jerius noted, through slightly gritted teeth. “The nation of Isol has come to Prommus. All of the defenders have been brought inside the city’s gates. We are awaiting a ceasefire so the King can speak to the attackers.”
“Yes Yes, I am aware that Isol is...”
“My Priest,” she said again, slightly more forcefully. “They’ve employed some type of heretical...cannon against us. They are firing magic at the castle walls. With every blast that hits an entire section falls to the ground. We will not last the night.”
This caused Jerius to come up short. He stuttered as his mind tried to keep up with the information he was presented with. The High Priest had told him to go and speak with the king, delivering the message. But if the king was to be talking with Isol soon, then he would not be in the throne room.
“Then we will go down to the city walls,” Jerius commanded, walking through the giant portals that lead from the temple to the castle. That was the way out.
“My... My priest?” Luca asked. Her tone was undoubtedly one of confusion, but Jerius didn’t mind.
He had a message for the king.
One that would change everything.
THE CITY OF PROMMUS was ablaze. Blasts of blue energy were flying over the city, hitting the mountain behind the capital and the castle. Parts of the mountain were exploding with dangerous force. Chaos was everywhere. As Luca and Jerius made their way down the road that led to the gate, a frenzied populace filled the streets.
Some were soldiers who had abandoned their posts and were fleeing in whatever direction seemed to please them. Others were families who were running from burning home to burning stores to piles of smoking rubble.
Jerius cared nothing for them. They were small obstacles to the earth-shattering realization he had come to.
“My Priest!” Luca shouted from behind him. If she hadn’t been so loud, he might not have heard her. The intensity of the explosions was growing as they came closer and closer to the walls of Prommus. Each blast shook the ground beneath their feet. But Jerius was so determined that with each stumble, he simply righted himself and continued on his quest.
“This is not wise!” Luca shouted. Jerius looked back to see her squinting her eyes forward and raising her hands to block her face. Bits of rock and city wall were raining down on them intermittently. None of them were large enough to cause significant damage, but they were irksome.
“An incorrect assumption!” Jerius answered, turning and caring little if she heard him softly speak his next words or not. “This is monumental.”
The castle’s defenders were in plain sight now. Soldiers of Ladis were running in every direction, following the orders bellowed to them by their captains and their sergeants. Jerius scanned them quickly, knowing where both the king and the generals would be: a safe distance from the fighting, but able to see the siege taking place.
A tower, set back far enough from the wall but still very much in the front of the city, was heavily guarded by troops. Jerius knew just by looking at it that the king must be up there. That or someone who knew where the king was would be there.
Another blast rocked the city walls as Jerius approached the guards of the tower. He could tell they recognized him, or at least his priest's garments.
“You cannot pass!” the taller one said, looking down at Jerius. The other put out his spear to block his path.
“And you will not deny a priest of Ladis his audience with the king!” Jerius retorted, throwing the spear back and walking underneath it. “I have a message from the high priest!”
The men did not try to stop him, but Jerius could see their hesitation. They would soon see just how valuable the church was and how insignificant they were. Luca followed behind him as he began to climb the stairs that wrapped around the outside of the tower. Every so often a landing and a door appeared. Inside officers and soldiers discussed plans and strategies.
Jerius gave them no heed as he looked for the king in each room. He came upon the fourth such landing and was impeded by another set of guards. These were king’s guards, dressed in full plate and carrying halberds. They turned their helmets to face Jerius and did not speak a word.
For a moment, he felt as if he might quail beneath their stare, but he shook himself. He was a priest of Ladis. He could not be intimidated by fancy armor or sharp weapons. He was powerful. He would show them all just how dominant he was.
Even the High Priest.
He passed between the guards, who did not attempt to stop him like the others and made his way through the stone archway that served as the door for the room. Advisors and generals surrounded the king. They sat looking at a map of the castle, with several painted stones resting on the parchment. Jerius suspected these represented the opposing soldiers as well as their troops.
The numbers looked even, but Jerius wondered if the generals were being optimistic.
He chuckled to himself. He would offer up something that these generals could not. He had heard the rumors of how Grellis and Ravus had fallen so quickly to the forces of Isol.
The king would be anxious and he, a Priest of Ladis, would be the one to relieve his fears.
“What are you doing here, priest?” snarled the king. Gravis’ blonde hair was a stark contrast to his red face. Sweat was pouring down his brow, which only made Jerius smile as he bowed.
“My king,” he said with triumph in his voice. “I have found a way to quiet the heretic’s magic and cannons once and for all!”
3: Useless
The scraping noise of the rusted and chipped ax along the gravel road was all that could be heard along the horizon. No bird gave its call or sang a song to mourn. Creatures did not stir from their dens. Nothing moved. Not even the wind blew. The stillness in the air was as unnatural as the sight of the boy who walked down the road, dragging his bloody ax in his wake.
His feet dragged along the road, the shoes he had once worked so hard to keep together so he could diligently work his father’s farm now barely clung to his tattered ankles. His shirt hung off one shoulder, and his pants were shredded above his calves. David was a wreck of a boy.
He could hardly remember the last time he had slept. There was no memory of food in his mouth or his stomach. The pain that he felt there was numbed only by the horrible images that flashed over and over again in his mind. A mother shielding her newborn, a father protecting his son, two young children cowering in a corner. All of these and countless others he had cut down me
rcilessly. Each one screamed and pleaded for mercy.
Mercy was not a memory he could recall either.
On top of each image of murder and misery was of his mother’s screams and the demon who held her life on a string. The face was burned into his mind’s eye. There was no escaping it, no running away.
There was only obedience.
He must obey the Goddess of Blood.
“Woah, son,” said a voice to his left. “You look like hell.”
David didn’t turn to face them. He didn’t need another vision in his mind. He tightened his grip on his weapon and prayed it would happen quickly.
It had to be over quickly.
“That’s putting it kindly, Grax,” said another, younger voice. “He looks like he’s just come from a war.”
“Think he’s a refugee from Ravus? I’ve seen some others like him before, though that was a few weeks ago and further south.”
“Naw, can’t be...”
David saw the two move in front of him. His lips quivered as he stared down at the road.
“What’s your name, son?” the man named Grax asked. “Where you from?”
David tightened his grip on his blade and looked at the ground. There wasn’t anything he could do. Nothing within his power to stop what was coming. It had happened all too often now. Still, perhaps there was one last hope.
“Run.”
He had barely breathed the word. It had required so much of his strength to utter the syllable.
“Eh? Say what?” the other man asked.
It was too late now, David knew. He had known it as soon as they had foolishly stopped him.
“The Goddess of Blood requires a sacrifice...” the voice in David’s head called.
He breathed out long and hard. Tensing his muscles, he prepared for the onslaught.
Power filled his being as he lifted the ax with one hand and swung it with dizzying speed at the first older man. His head would have gone flying, had the blade not been so dull. Instead, the old traveler’s body flew off the road, a grievous trail following in his wake as he spluttered in surprise.
