War for the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga Book 2)

by Olney, Matthew

  Drusilla brushed her son’s cheek affectionately, her expression soft.

  “I missed you too, son,” she whispered. She took his hand in hers and led him over to the fire. “You must be famished. You slept for a whole day and night. Your friends were very worried about you.”

  Luxon blushed.

  “I overdid it with my magic … I lost control. Mother. But what are you doing here? Why are you on the Great Plains?”

  Drusilla held up a hand to stop him talking.

  “Not now, my son. I will tell you what I can later. For now, we will eat and enjoy this moment. Tell your friends that the food is ready.”

  Luxon smiled. His questions could wait. His mother was right: he was starving.

  * * *

  The tent was full of laughter. Luxon and his companions laughed and joked with members of the Keenlance tribe. To Luxon’s surprise, the Keenlance people were friendly and very generous hosts. The warriors that Luxon had saved hailed him as a hero. Ferran and the others had been relieved to see that he was well. They were all sat around the fire telling each other stories and cracking jokes, some of which went right over the heads of the tribal folk. Different cultures often take time understanding one another, after all. Faramond was standing in front of the fire, a horn full of mead in one hand and his sword in the other. The prince had just finished telling them a story which had resulted in the tribes folk rolling about the floor in laughter. He then turned to a group of musicians, who had been waiting patiently to one side, and told them to play.

  A rattling tune started up, and tribesfolk burst out into song.

  Luxon smiled as the prince hauled a laughing Sophia to her feet and began to dance with her around the tent.

  “I can’t remember the last time we had a night off as fun as this!” Yepert slurred.

  “I do,” Luxon said. “It was the Feast of the Brave Knight last year. If I recall, you got so smashed that you ended up trying to kiss Marisha Dinlow. But before you could do the deed, you puked up all over the poor girl.”

  “Oh yeah … she still hates me,” Yepert chuckled.

  Luxon stood and patted his friend on the head.

  “Go get some sleep, Yepert. We can’t have you hungover tomorrow.”

  Yepert took another swig of his mead before slumping onto the ground. Within seconds, he was snoring loudly. Luxon laughed.

  In the centre of the tent, Faramond bowed deeply to Sophia and kissed her hand. She returned the bow before sitting with Ferran at the fireside.

  The band now changed its tune to a more sombre melody. The tribal folk stopped laughing and bowed their heads.

  “They sing for the dead,” Faramond said to his guests. He bowed his head and began to sing:

  “The sons and daughters of Keenblade return to the gods that made them.

  “Dying with lance in hand and arrow in flight, they died with honour. They died defending their lord, and ridding the world of the most ancient of mankind’s foes.

  “They will live on forever in the memories of their descendants.”

  As the song came to an end, the tribesfolk raised their horns of mead in the air before downing the contents. Luxon did likewise and lowered his head. So many people had died battling the Fell Beasts and the dark powers that continued to torment the world. He knew that many more would perish over the coming days. In his gut, he knew that Danon was plotting and preparing. Soon, he would be ready to unleash his full power upon Delfinnia. At Eclin, Danon had been weak; he had relied on the strength of his dark bride, the witch Cliria. Thousands had perished just so that he could be freed from the Void. After Eclin, some even believed that he had been destroyed – the lich that he had used for a body had been found, after all. Luxon knew better. Thanos and the other masters had known better. Danon was not so easy to kill.

  “Son?”

  He was brought out of his thoughts by his mother. She stood next to him, a hand on his shoulder.

  “Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “What troubles you?” Drusilla smiled. “I spoke with Hannah – a lovely girl. I am very happy that you have met someone to share your life with. I think I intimidate her though.”

  Luxon chuckled. “Of course you do. I’ve spoken of my quest to find you for years. I guess I must have built you up quite a lot.” He looked at the woman who had abandoned him years previously at the gates of Caldaria.

  “I think it’s time you answered my questions,” he said seriously.

  Drusilla nodded.

  “So do I,” she replied quietly. She took his hand and led him outside of the tent.

  Hundreds of tents and campfires were spread across the plains. The people of the Keenblade tribe were all around them. Beyond the edge of the city of cloth was a tall wall, built from long wooden stakes that had been hammered into the ground. The wall was vital, due to the lack of rune stones. The tribe’s survival depended on the palisades keeping at bay the Fell Beasts that stalked the nights. As the tribes were nomadic, the stakes were easy to remove and pack onto the long wagons that were lined along the walls perimeter. Armed warriors patrolled the edge of the camp on horseback constantly.

  Drusilla led her son away from the centre of the camp. The two moons were high in the sky and casting their glow upon the world below. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the chill of the approaching winter made its presence felt. Away from the fires the temperature dropped, and Luxon wrapped his cloak tighter about his body. His mother appeared to not notice the cold; she wore a loose-fitting dress that exposed her tanned arms, and a purple cloak. She led the way through the maze of tents to the walls, then looked around to see if the coast was clear.

  “Follow me, Luxon. Use your gifts,” she said mysteriously.

  She crouched and closed her eyes. Her hand touched the amulet around her neck. Luxon stepped back as the amulet began to glow brightly. The light grew in intensity until he was forced to look away. When the light faded, his mother was gone.

  “Follow me.”

  To his surprise the voice came from the other side of the wall. He pressed his face to the wood and looked out through a small hole at the plain beyond. His mother was stood a hundred paces away on the other side.

  Closing his eyes, he channelled the magic within. He bent his legs and pushed off of the ground, leaping high into the air and easily clearing the tall wooden stakes that comprised the camp’s wall. He landed nimbly on his feet and jogged over to his mother.

  “Nicely done,” Drusilla praised. “I see you’ve been trained well by Thanos and the mages of Caldaria.”

  “How did you do that? Did you teleport?” Luxon asked. He had only heard rumours that teleportation spells were real. The grand masters claimed that they could perform such magic, but Luxon had never seen it being used in real life before.

  “Yes. Teleportation comes in very handy when you are in hiding like I was. Numerous times, Cliria’s agents almost found or cornered me. Teleportation was my way of escaping their clutches.” She tilted her head as though listening. “We cannot linger here for too long. Fell Beasts have already caught our scent.”

  She took Luxon’s hand, and together they ran further into the night.

  “Where are we going?” Luxon asked.

  “Somewhere safe; somewhere we can talk in safety.”

  They ran for what felt like miles. Finally, they reached a small lake with a smaller island in its centre. The body of water appeared out of place in the sea of grass. As they drew nearer, Luxon could sense the magic radiating from it. Drusilla stepped into the shallow water and pulled her son after her. They waded through and clambered out onto the small island. The magic was stronger here. A single tall tree stood on the patch of the ground. The bark of the tree had markings carved into it – magical carvings.

  “What is this place?” Luxon asked in wonder. He placed a hand on the tree’s trunk and the carved words lit up with magical power.

  “A very long time ago the whole world was in danger of being dest
royed by the Fell Beasts,” Drusilla said. “Men with magic hunted them, and to protect themselves and others, they created places of safety in the wilderness. The same magic that gives the rune stones their power resides in this single tree. I learnt of it whilst reading the ancient texts in the Diasect library. We will be safe here.”

  Drusilla reached into her cloak and pulled out a firestone. She gathered some sticks that had fallen from the tree and created a small fire. The two of them sat close to the flame.

  Luxon looked at his mother. For so long he had assumed that she had been just an ordinary woman, the wife of a noble in Sunguard … his mother.

  A sadness filled him as he realised that in reality he knew nothing about her. The many trips away she had taken, that his father had said were to visit family, were lies. She possessed magic, and she had known that he too had it. She knew that the blood of the first wizard Aljeron flowed through their veins.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked sadly.

  “It was for your own protection, son. I … was made a member of the Diasect long before I met your father. My own father had been a member himself, and with the title being hereditary it fell to me to take his place. Our task was to watch for signs of Danon and his minions. I soon realised that the other members of the Diasect had long forgotten that purpose. They had grown fat and lazy – complacent. Perhaps it was because I was young and new to it, but I tried to do what I was supposed to. You remember all those times when I wasn’t around?”

  Luxon nodded.

  “During those times, I was travelling the realm, meeting contacts and making enquiries. I remained vigilant, even if the others did not. The night the king was assassinated … I tried to warn them.” Drusilla’s voice cracked at the revelation. “I learnt of Cliria and of her plan, but I was ambushed and delayed by her followers. The Diasect’s fortress at Tentiv was attacked and destroyed. I had no choice but to flee.”

  “So, that’s why you weren’t there that night,” Luxon muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

  The Night of Tears had seen Sunguard ripped apart by riots, and the legion tore the city apart as they sought the king’s murderers. Luxon had been protected by his father, Garrick, but he still remembered the worry he’d had for his absent mother. His mother had returned three days later. He remembered her staggering into the family home, her clothes soaked in blood. Garrick had told him that everything was fine, and as a ten year old boy he had believed his father.

  A few days after that, the Privy Council had gathered to decide on who would succeed the slain king. Garrick had been a noble in the Sunguard court, and he had testified that the king’s youngest child still lived. His words had caused strife among the barons and set the stage for the war that had followed.

  “Garrick was the bravest man I ever met,” Drusilla said softly, her eyes focused on the crackling flames of the fire. “What happened to him was unjust.”

  “I understand why we had to flee the city,” Luxon said. “What I don’t understand is why you left me at Caldaria. I was just a kid, I knew no one, and you left me there without a reason why. For a long time I thought I had done something to make you abandon me, for a long time … I hated you.”

  “As soon as we left Sunguard, Cliria and her agents were after us,” his mother said. “She knew of our bloodline; she knew that if she caught us she would be able to free Danon from the Void. I left you with the mages because Caldaria was the one place she could not get into. I thought it best that I disappear. For years, I took odd jobs in Blackmoor and worked in Robinta. All the while, I kept my identity safe and secret. The world was at war, but at least it was safe from Danon.”

  Drusilla stood and began to pace, her hands fidgeting. After a while she stopped and sighed deeply.

  “I know it was not your fault. I know that Cliria tricked you … but, my son, Danon walks upon Esperia once more. After Eclin, I watched and waited. As the realm did nothing to prevent it, Danon set his plans into motion.”

  Luxon wiped the tears in his eyes. It was his fault Danon had broken free from the Void.

  “What made you come out of hiding and come here?” Luxon sniffed.

  “The sigil stone,” Drusilla replied, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  Luxon stared at her in confusion.

  “The stone? What is so important about it?” he asked, his stomach knotting in dread.

  Drusilla stopped her pacing.

  “As a member of the Diasect, I was a guardian of the realm’s most vital secrets. We knew where the stone was hidden, as did one other: the former Baron of Balnor. The Balnor family dates back to the days of the first king and were tasked with protecting the secret of the stone, in case the realm had need of it. The stone was supposed to remain hidden from evil. But at Eclin, Alderlade used it to fend off Danon. After that, Danon knew of it and hired a thief to steal it from Sunguard.”

  Luxon slumped onto his back and stared at the night sky. His suspicions had been correct after all. The sigil stone was important, and he had the horrible feeling that he was about to find out why.

  “The stone is one of three, created to protect the sword of the gods, Asphodel. They were made by mages under the command of King Riis the First at the end of the Magic Wars.” Drusilla hesitated before continuing. “They were made to react to only those with the blood of kings in their veins. That is why it reacted to Alderlade. Only those people were trusted to wield it.”

  Luxon sat up, his eyes wide.

  “It … It reacted to me!”

  Drusilla looked away, unable to look her son in the eye.

  “Danon’s magic is old and very powerful. Perhaps he broke the spell set upon the stone. What I do know is that he saw where the second stone is hidden.”

  “Stormglade? The second stone is there?” Luxon asked.

  His mother nodded.

  “It is. Riis most trusted champion, Alectae, hid the stones. The first he hid in the frigid mountains of Eclin; the second, the Great Plains; the third and final stone … well, that we have to discover. Danon has brought his N’gist followers to him, and has enslaved the city to his will. Even now, evil is being drawn to him. I saw it with my own eyes. I came out of hiding, made it through the Watchers and across the Great Plain. I even made it inside the city walls. The poor inhabitants of the city are now his slaves or worse. The merchant kings now hang from the walls of their palaces. It is a place of darkness.”

  Luxon poked at the fire with a stick. His eyes narrowed as he took in all that his mother told him. His mind drifted back to the time he had touched the sigil stone.

  A golden sword cast back a cloud of darkness. A ruined tower nestled in the heart of a dark forest … except, no, it wasn’t a forest.

  He doubled his concentration. The vision he had seen had been distorted, uncertain. The forest wasn’t a forest … at least not any longer.

  “There was a forest on the plains … when Stormglade was first built …”

  “Yes. The forest was cut down. The lumber was one of the city’s main exports until the merchants got too greedy and cut all the trees down. How did you know that?” Drusilla asked hesitantly.

  “The vision I saw when I touched the stone after Eclin,” Luxon said. “It makes sense that the vision imprinted upon it would show the place at the time it was created. You said you got inside the city?”

  Drusilla nodded. “I did. I was discovered and barely escaped with my life. I was wounded as I fled across the plains. A Keenblade scout found me, brought me back to their camp and nursed me back to health. Listen to me, son: the stone that Danon has led him to Stormglade, and in turn the stone he seeks will lead him to the final and most important stone. For that final stone will lead to the final resting place of Asphodel. In my reading, I learned that the first two stones act as way markers, like a trail, but the third is the key to obtaining the sword.

  “Here,” she said pulling a small book from her cloak pocket. “This book will tell you all you need
to know. I managed to salvage it from Tentiv.”

  On the horizon, the sky was turning orange to hail the arrival of a new day. To Luxon’s surprise, they had been talking all night. The woman sitting across from him was his mother, and yet he felt as though he knew nothing about her. He realised that he had not known what to expect when he found her, because he had been so fixated on finding her in the first place.

  “We should head back to the camp before our absence is noticed,” he said. “We need to plan our next move. We must get the stone from Danon, and discover what he’s up to.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Luxon and the others were treated to a huge breakfast comprised of wild fruit and freshly baked bread. The generosity of their hosts made Luxon question the books he had read about the tribes in Caldaria’s Great Library. The authors had made them out to be mindless savages who had no interest in the finer things in life. So far, Luxon’s experience had been very different. He smiled as thoughts of returning home and writing a book on the tribes entered his head. He looked up as a shadow was cast over him. Faramond was standing over him, a big smile on his face. In his hands he held two swords. He dropped the one from his left hand onto the ground in front of Luxon.

  “Pick it up,” the prince said, still smiling.

  Luxon glanced nervously at the others, who all looked surprised. Ferran smirked and gestured to the weapon. Hesitantly, Luxon stood and picked up the blade.

  Faramond laughed.

  “Don’t look so scared, master wizard. Come with me,” he chuckled, before walking off. Luxon followed, leaving the others to joke amongst themselves.

  “The way you saved my men the other night was very impressive,” Faramond said. “My grandfather used to tell me stories of mages; he always made magic out to be this terrifying power. After seeing what you’re capable of, I see that his tales were true.”

  Faramond led Luxon deeper into the camp. They passed several large pens which contained the tribe’s livestock and horses. As they walked, the people they passed all bowed down low.