by R. T. Cole
GENESIS OF WAR
BOOK ONE OF
THE REALM OF AREON
R.T. COLE
Copyright © 2018 R.T. Cole
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review
ISBN-13: 978-1986486965
ISBN-10: 1986486966
Genesis of War is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover art design by Germancreative - Fiverr
Map concept design by R.T. Cole
Map final art design by Mystic Wings Art
Printed in the United States of America
First Printing, 2018
www.rtcole.com
DEDICATION
Melissa – Forever my love and forever my inspiration. Thank you for all the pushes in the right direction.
Mom and Dad – For always believing in me since the inception of this story.
1. Midday Negotiations
2. A Tavern and a Tale
3. The New King
4. An Honorable Journey
5. The Future Queen
6. Separate Paths
7. Draven Darkwood
8. A Family Man
9. Stoneshield
10. Magic, Lies, and Betrayal
11. Pathfinder
12. Hero of the Sorcerer’s War
13. A Dangerous Road
14. Deal at the Frostford
15. The Traveler Revealed
16. Lords of the West
17. Northern Conspiracy
18. Powerless Prisoner
19. Wisdom of the Foreseer
20. The Frozen Wilds
21. Ultimatum
22. Road to Evermount
23. Dirce’s Destiny
24. A Potential Alliance
25. Break in the Journey
26. Battle at Squall’s End
27. Honoring the Fallen
EPILOGUE The Hidden Truth
Chapter 1
MIDDAY NEGOTIATIONS
It was the perfect time of day; the sun was low enough to still cast some light on everything it touched, but the weather was also cool enough to negate the fact that the sun was out at all. Most would think that an earlier time of day was better, but not many in Woodhaven believed this to be true. They took the placement of the sun as a good sign of things to come.
Beautiful day, the man thought with a smile on his face. The winds began to pick up, and the man felt even more at home than before. But, of course, this was his home; he was the Lord of Woodhaven, Fulton Prastor, after all. Fulton was of average height, with short brown hair, and a face as clean as a newborn. The people of Woodhaven believed that the rest of the realm thought them to be savages of some kind, and so they attempted to look shorn at all times. As was the custom of the people in his army, he wore a green suit of armor, as dark as the forest that surrounded their home; the chest piece on the armor was that of a black woodland creature, which most closely resembled a deer. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have bothered to put the armor on, but today was not one of those days.
As long as anybody could remember, the Western lands of Areon were at war. Peace would come and go, but the fighting would always start up again. The armies of the neighboring Western land, Zenithor, had a history of causing unrest amongst, not only the West, but also the entire realm of Areon. For years, the Lords of Zenithor and Woodhaven had battled for supremacy of the West, with the battles coming to a standstill almost every time. Today, the Lord of Woodhaven hoped to secure a peace, and hoped to make it stick.
Outside the gates of the tranquil city of Woodhaven, Lord Fulton Prastor’s army had gathered in support of his decision to treat with the Lord of Zenithor. The army of Woodhaven was known for being one of the largest in the realm, and even though Fulton found pride in that thought, he did not want a battle to break out today. He knew, if it came to it, that the meeting could turn into an unwinnable battle, but his people were counting on him. I have to try, Fulton thought to himself. He looked to the captain of his palace guard and noticed a worried look on his face.
“Are you alright, Captain?” Fulton asked.
“It’s the skies, my Lord,” the captain said, as he looked up. “It’s a rare thing when Woodhaven sees such darkness in the clouds.”
Fulton hadn’t noticed the sudden change in the weather. A small part of him thought that it was a strange and sudden change, but quickly waved it off, as he chuckled to himself.
“I know you’re worried about today’s meeting, Captain. But, you’ve heard the people. You’ve heard their pleas. If we can’t bring peace, then war will continue, and I won’t have that,” said Fulton. Enough already, he thought. The war with Zenithor had truly taken its toll on the people of Woodhaven, and Fulton was done. He began to think of his family and what they would say once he arrived back home. He pondered whether they would call him a hero, or if they would act as if nothing happened. Either way, he just wanted to see this through and then get back home.
A moment later, Fulton and his Captain noticed the sounds of drums and the familiar noise of a marching army; the Zenithor army was heading in their direction. It wasn’t long before they saw the army approaching, once they passed through the trees. Woodhaven had always been afforded a certain protection with the Great Wood, the largest forest in Areon, surrounding it. From the city, each direction consisted of a two-day journey through the forest, which resulted in the feeling of isolation amongst the people of Woodhaven. Most didn’t mind the feeling, but there were those who grew tired of the trees, the wind, and the feeling of being cut off from the rest of the world. The latter would usually gravitate south toward the Silk Isles, but some of them would travel further west to Zenithor, seeking a new environment and a new purpose in life. If those people had found something better after they left, no one knew. In this regard, Fulton always feared that the denizens who traveled to Zenithor would share their secrets; but, by utilizing well-trained scouts around their perimeters, they would always know if they were under attack from the outside. Today, Zenithor’s army was invited into their borders.
Fulton eyed the size of the army heading his way, but couldn’t take his eyes off of their banners. The sigil of Zenithor struck fear into their enemies for countless years. Its blood-red shark fin was a constant reminder of all the tragedy that Woodhaven had endured.
Along with the banners, Fulton caught sight of the Lord of Zenithor himself, Kelbain. He was riding his horse in front of all the other soldiers, his long black hair swaying from the intense winds. Once Kelbain got close enough, he signaled for his army to halt, and he got off of his horse. As he approached, Fulton was even more aware of how tall and imposing the Lord of Zenithor was. He wore black armor from head to toe, with only the red shark fin of his house on the breastplate.
Fulton proceeded to descend from his horse as well and met Kelbain where he stood. “Lord Kelbain. I must say, that’s quite an army.” He turned and looked at his own army. “Nothing like mine, but still, it’s quite a sight to behold,” he said, with an attempt at levity.
“Prastor. I’ve come to negotiate a term for peace, not to hear you pretend to have a backbone,” Kelbain said with a looming threat in his words. “You can keep your army and your precious woods, whatever it takes to keep more of my men from dying.”
Fulton was surprised at that. Mostly, he was surprised at his own thoughts o
n the matter; he was delighted to hear the resigning tone of Kelbain’s voice at the mention of his men, and was relishing the thought of crushing them right now and taking the title of West King; but, with peace on the horizon, and the safety of his own people at stake, he quickly rejected those thoughts and aimed to agree on the terms with Kelbain.
“So, we’re in agreement, then? No one from either of our houses will be the West King. No one from our houses will engage in combat any longer,” said Fulton.
Kelbain looked weary of all this and said, “Agreed, agreed. No longer.” He outstretched his hand in an attempt to settle the meeting.
Fulton couldn’t believe how simple this seemed to be going. A part of him thought that something was wrong with the situation; another part of him still wanted to take advantage, kill Kelbain and seize power of the West. But, then he thought of what his family would think of him. Don’t worry, I’ll make you proud, he thought to himself. He grasped Kelbain’s hand in agreement.
“No longer,” he repeated, as he shook hands with Kelbain. “It’s settled then. I will inform the people of Woodhaven of this historic turn of events,” he said with a smile on his face.
“Please do,” Kelbain replied. He broke the handshake and began to walk back toward his army. Then, he turned around and said, “Can I give you some advice, Prastor?”
Fulton ignored the rudeness that Kelbain continued to display by referring to him by house name only. “Yes, of course,” said Fulton.
“You should learn to keep your city more secure.”
Fulton squinted his eyes at Kelbain, wondering what he meant. “I’m not sure what you…” Fulton began to say.
“What I mean is, you should really keep more guards by the southeast corner of your city,” Kelbain said with a hint of malice.
This statement at first confused Fulton, but then he raised his eyebrows and turned a sheet of white. That area of the city was where he and his family lived. He had been so busy with the preparations for the meeting that he forgot to check on his wife and children earlier that morning. Panic took over, and he started shaking his head as if he already knew the answer to his next question.
“What have you done?” Fulton asked in shock.
Kelbain looked at him with just a hint of a smirk, but didn’t let it show too much; he wanted to savor this moment as long as possible. He slowly walked toward Fulton again.
“Did you really think that I would fall on my knees before you and beg for peace?” Kelbain asked. “We both know that it should be you on your knees before me, as it always should’ve been.” Kelbain’s words were as icy as the passing breeze.
All Fulton could do was stare at the ground in disbelief. He looked back up at Kelbain and said, “In the name of the Three Kings of Areon, I’ll ask you again: What... have... you... done?” Fulton was letting his emotions get the better of him, because deep down he knew the truth.
“You only need to know one thing, Prastor,” said Kelbain, as he let another smile creep in, “your wife and both your sons are already waiting for you in the afterlife.”
Fulton felt his entire world collapse in a matter of moments. He screamed and sobbed as he fell to his knees in front of the Lord of Zenithor. He couldn’t even think of his people, the army standing in front of him, or the grass underneath him. His family was gone.
“There you are, Prastor. You’ve learned your place quickly.” Kelbain’s smile then turned to deadly anger as he drew his sword. He walked closer to Fulton and laid the blade on his shoulder, preparing to strike.
The sound of galloping could be heard, as Kelbain noticed a man on a horse charging at him from the frontlines of the Woodhaven army. His soldiers wanted to respond, but Kelbain held up his hand, signaling them to hold. As the horse drew closer, Kelbain knelt down with his sword pointed at the animal, quickly impaling it and sending the rider flying forward.
The captain got up as quickly as he could, yelling to his soldiers, “Attack! In the name of your Lord of Woodhaven, attack!” The entire army began their charge against Zenithor’s invaders.
Kelbain shook his head calmly. “Fool,” he said. “Now, I have to kill all of you.” He gave his army the signal to attack and watched as both armies converged on one another. As he walked over to where the captain stood, he took one swing and almost knocked the man’s sword out of his hand. The captain proceeded to get into a defensive stance, but Kelbain knew better than to let a man attempt to get the better of him in a fight. The Lord of Zenithor held his sword in one hand, while his other hand conjured a ball of flame out of thin air. Wielding the flame, he motioned toward the sword, lighting it on fire; and as quickly as the captain’s eyes widened, Kelbain’s flaming sword plunged into the man’s heart just as fast.
Fulton was still on his knees a few feet away, but he had witnessed the death of his most loyal soldier and friend. He shook his head solemnly and wept for the captain, but then his mind wandered back to the sudden and tragic loss of his family. He would never see his children grow up to be the Lords of Woodhaven. He would never see their faces smiling up at him again. He would never see his wife’s beautiful smile again, nor would he hear her whisper “I love you,” as they embraced during acts of love and passion.
“You... planned this a long time ago... didn’t you?” Fulton’s voice was eerily calm now.
Kelbain looked at him as if he asked a dumb question. “I was in this same spot, 60 years ago, as you well know. I lost that battle, and I vowed that I’d return one day to finish what I started. Did you really think that there would be peace between us?” Kelbain asked.
“You’re right,” said Fulton. “I was a fool to ever believe that your family had a shred of honor; look at who your father was.” This prompted Kelbain to dissipate the flames and lay his sword on Fulton’s shoulder once again, preparing for the inevitable. Fulton looked up and into Kelbain’s eyes. “Now you’ve destroyed my line,” he said. “You’ve taken the throne of the West. Why didn’t you act years ago?”
Kelbain looked at him with surprise, “Your people hadn’t given up hope yet. I wanted them at their lowest level of despair before I carried out my plan.” He leaned closer and whispered, “It makes my triumph all the more rewarding.”
Fulton let out a slow sigh and closed his eyes. I’ll see you soon, my love, he silently said to his departed wife. I’ll see you all soon.
Kelbain leaned back again and said, “Apologies, Prastor, but I believe your time is now at an end.” He outstretched his arms, sword firmly in his grasp, while Fulton Prastor looked up to the skies above Woodhaven for the last time. “There’s one detail that I should correct you on.” Fulton didn’t bother to listen. “There are Four Kings now.” The Lord of Woodhaven’s head leaped off of his shoulders with ease.
Kelbain turned his attentions toward the battle raging for control of the West. With Fulton Prastor dead, as well as his Captain of the guard, leadership in Woodhaven was spread thin. He reminded himself of the small force that he had sent into the city earlier in the morning, and the mission that he had tasked them with. Not only were they to murder the Prastor family, but they were also to sabotage any means of defense that the city possessed.
As he got back on his horse, ready to charge into battle, he looked toward the city and saw what he had been waiting for; all of the archers on the battlements fell to their deaths while the Zenithor soldiers responsible rained fire upon the army of Woodhaven.
“Right on time,” Kelbain said very proudly.
Chapter 2
A TAVERN AND A TALE
He struggled with the decision all morning. For most people he knew, it was unheard of; it was almost unspeakable. He could’ve waited until tonight, but there would be too many of his family members and close friends nearby. No, I should just get it out of the way now, the man decided. After all, if his best friend could do it, he figured he could as well. Besides, a day like today called for such an act.
“Are you just going to sit there and look
at it, Rudi?” asked the man’s best friend.
Rudi turned his head toward his friend, his light brown hair revealing a small hint of blonde in the sunlight that shone through the windows of The Tavern. His eyes, as bright as the blue sky, lit up in the sun as well, almost projecting a divine appearance until the shade returned in the room.
“I don’t know, Paxton,” Rudi said with some doubt. “This isn’t exactly like me.” It was true, he had never really drunk ale this early in the afternoon before.
“It’s just ale, Rudi. It’s not the end of the world. I know you’re not fond of your birthday; that’s why I agreed to come down here with you,” said Paxton.
Damn it. There it is. I’m going to be hearing about this all day, Rudi thought to himself. Ever since he was little, Rudimere attempted to avoid his birthday celebrations, as he knew his family would make a big deal of it. He was the youngest of three brothers, and sometimes felt as if he was treated differently; almost to a degree of being less special than his older brothers. But, he knew that being a Palidor meant a hard life, and being a grandson of the East King was already hard enough; even if he was fourth in line to the throne.
“I appreciate your company, Pax,” said Rudi, as he gulped down the ale that sat in front of him. Rudi couldn’t help but think that, even though he had second thoughts about coming to The Tavern, this ale tasted better than most nights that they’d been there before. “I don’t know why I still let it get to me,” he said.
Pax shrugged and took a sip of his drink as well. After a moment, he said, “Look, you’re my friend, Rudi, but I’m going to be completely honest with you.”
Rudi hated when Pax said that. The last time he said that to Rudi, he had confessed his love for their childhood friend, Ashra, leaving Rudi very uncomfortable to be around the two of them for the remainder of the night. Rudi rolled his eyes and said, “Go ahead.”
