Genesis of War: The Realm of Areon Book 1

by R. T. Cole

  Before their father could reply, Merroc responded to his brother. “He still thinks this is a good idea, and he’s trying to get into my good graces,” Merroc explained.

  Jasian took a moment to ponder. “Oh,” he said, as he realized what Merroc was talking about. Looking at his brother in a coaxing manner, Jasian said, “But it is a good idea. Have you not seen that yet?”

  Merroc sighed again and looked moodier than before. Rudi tossed looks towards his friends, as they all wondered what this was all about.

  “I will not be going,” Merroc vented. “I’m needed here, as I always have been.”

  Marc started to look frustrated. He was the kind of man who let his children make their own mistakes. Everyone knows I’ve made my fair share of them, he would often think to himself. But, in certain situations, it was required of him to act the role of a Lord and force his sons to follow his orders.

  “Son… it’s high time you and your brother get out there and represent us, all of us, in this mad world,” Marc stated. He looked at Merroc humorlessly. “That’s an order,” he said.

  Ignoring Merroc’s frustrated looks and Rudimere’s perplexed appearance, Marc addressed the obvious question at the table. “Rudimere, Stoneshield would be honored if Lord Merroc and Lord Jasian joined you on your quest.”

  Rudi’s eyes lit up. He knew that this would be a great opportunity to show the East, and the rest of Areon, that they were a united front against West King Kelbain.

  “The honor is ours, Uncle,” Rudi said with gratitude. Quickly, he turned to his friends for approval and noticed that Ashra and Pax looked more shocked than excited at this development. He made a note to address that with them later.

  Marc slapped a hand onto the table in an exhilarated manner, “It’s settled then!” He turned to his wife with a smile. “My dear, the floor is yours.”

  She smiled back at him and nodded. She turned to Rudimere and spoke. “My Lord, according to Prince Vandal’s message, you will be visiting the other Lords of the East, will you not?”

  Rudi nodded. “Yes, we plan to stop at Evermount next,” he said.

  “That’s good to hear,” Hana said, smiling. “As you know, my elder cousin, Drudorn, is Lord of Evermount.”

  How could I forget? Rudimere thought his Aunt might have been joking, as everyone who hadn’t attended the wedding heard the stories. It was said that there was a heated argument between Drudorn and Marc during Marc and Hana’s wedding feast, which ended in Drudorn knocking Marc out cold. As he came to understand, there were many people who had issues with his Uncle Marc, but that was the one and only time that Rudi had ever heard of Marc losing a fight.

  “Yes, of course,” Rudi replied.

  “I believe he will be of much help to you. But, you must also deliver a message to him for me,” Hana said. “Tell him, a storm rises from the shadows.”

  Rudi looked bewildered. “A storm rises from the shadows?”

  “Yes,” she confirmed. “Tell him that, and he will help you in more ways than you could possibly imagine.” Before Rudi had the chance to ask, Hana interrupted and said, “I cannot tell you what it means. It is only something a member of the Varian family would know of, and we cannot risk anyone else around him finding out what the message means. I’m trusting you, Rudimere.”

  Rudi bowed his head. “I will see it done, Aunt Hana.”

  RING RING

  Everyone at the table became startled at the sound. The bells of Stoneshield were ringing. A loud crash sounded in the hall, coming from the other end of the room. The doors swung open with thunderous might, alerting everyone in the room. Marc stood up immediately.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” Marc bellowed.

  The messenger walked in a hurried manner to the table, completely out of breath. “My Lord,” he said in between breaths. “King Victor is dead… passed away… Prince Vandal is now our King of the East.”

  Shock and sadness filled the room, engulfed by the tolling of the bells.

  RING RING RING

  Chapter 10

  MAGIC, LIES, AND BETRAYAL

  A soft, cushiony feather bed was not something that Draven was used to. As a mercenary, he was more inclined to sleep either on the ground at night, or at a small tavern where the beds were as comfortable as a hundred daggers in the back. He couldn’t tell if he liked this feeling, or if he was completely restless, but the figure standing in the corner began to help him settle in. The sight of Zenithor’s future queen, adorned in nothing but a thin, red robe, illuminated by the glow the candles formed, was a sight to behold.

  She had this look about her that confused Draven. He wasn’t sure if it was disgust for what was about to happen, or if it was utter contempt for him personally. Perhaps it was both. He smiled at her, regardless, and beckoned her to join him in the bed.

  “Come, my Queen,” he said. “You’re fulfilling a great duty to your people tonight. You’ll want my help in this war, trust me on that.” He had no reservations about being cocky; in his eyes, he was very valuable to the West King, and he enjoyed seeing Dirce flounder at her lack of knowledge about him.

  “I still don’t understand why Kelbain would allow this,” Dirce grumbled as she walked toward the bed. “You’re an unkempt cutthroat, nothing more.” She noticed his smirk at this statement and thought of Kelbain’s remark about Draven’s “talents”. What is so special about this man, she wondered. The most she had heard of him was the same tales of his command at Woodhaven many years ago. This didn’t impress her, as she considered the “woodland folk” paltry in existence to the people of Zenithor. Her eyes thinned and her mind began to twist. She produced a smile of her own and removed her robe, taking note of Draven’s not-so-subtle scan of her features as she climbed into the bed.

  As she lay next to Draven, one arm supporting her head up, she asked, “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

  “Oh, I think you can imagine what I’m doing here,” he said, playfully referring to their current scene. He ran his fingers down her side, his eyes taking in every inch of her curves.

  Dirce smiled again, but this time her eyes were fixed on his as she used her power to shift into his mind. Rather than dive in to read his thoughts, she elected to control him instead. No need to see this mongrel’s vile thoughts, she silently told herself.

  “You will tell me why you are here,” she commanded.

  Draven’s eyes locked into hers, his expression changing from smug to hollow almost in an instant.

  “Your king chose me,” he said in a dull voice.

  Dirce grew frustrated and prodded further. “Yes, I know, but why you?”

  Without missing a beat, he replied, “I’m an Evolutionary.”

  Dirce attempted to keep steady, so as not to lose control over him, but couldn’t help but react internally. An Evolutionary? I didn’t know that they still existed!

  Evolutionaries were very rare Sages that were mostly wiped out during the Sorcerer’s War. They had the ability to develop a resistance, or immunity, to practically anything. She had heard of a time when an Evolutionary was stabbed with a sword to the heart and seemed to die, only to awake some time later, pulling the sword out of their chest. There was even a rumor that one drank poison without so much as letting out a cough. The only known way to kill an Evolutionary was to behead them, as there was no coming back from that.

  A part of her wanted to take Draven’s head right then and there, if only to punish him for presuming to force her into having sex with him. In that line of thinking, she had another reason to want Kelbain dead too, considering that he sanctioned this tryst. But, she maintained her composure and thought of a better use for Draven and his ability.

  “You will now work for me, Draven,” she ordered. “But, you will make the king believe that he is still in charge of all things. Any plans, any arrangements, anything regarding me, you will report immediately,” she stated definitively. “Do you understand?”

  Draven n
odded slowly. “I understand, my Queen.”

  She smiled widely, pondering the magnitude of her plans. Kelbain made a grave mistake delivering you to me. Not only do I have a living weapon at my disposal, but soon I’ll have the ultimate one as well.

  The thought excited her and she kissed Draven passionately. “Tonight, I’ll have you,” she said, “soon, Zane and I will have the West.” As she straddled him, the wind rushed in from the window and the candles’ glow turned to darkness.

  She awoke the next morning, naked and sprawled out on the bed. Her arms stretched, searching for a last-minute comfort by the mercenary she seemed to enjoy the night before.

  “Mmmm... Draven?”

  She lifted her head up and noticed that Draven was gone from their bed. This didn’t cause any alarm, as she was sure he was already procuring information on her behalf. She thought of what Zane would say when he found out about Draven’s true nature, and she hoped that the news would distract him from the night she was forced to spend with the man. A bit of guilt washed over her at the thought of choosing to sleep with Draven, regardless of taking control of him. She didn’t need to. She wanted to. A life of servitude and subjugation had made her this way; using her talents was one thing, but getting what she wanted was something entirely different. She could’ve had Draven without the control, but she wanted to have him the way she wanted: with no one ordering her to do it.

  She got out of bed and put her robe back on. Leaving the room, she headed toward her own, but she examined the hall closely and listened.

  Nothing, she thought. No commotion, no footsteps of marching soldiers or anyone else. No sound at all. She formed a crease in her forehead, confused. Then, confusion grew into concern. Her eyebrows raised and she advanced to the throne room.

  When she finally made her way there, after moving through the silent castle, she pushed through the double doors and found an agonizing sight. She couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp. The walls in the room were lined with soldiers, fully dressed in armor, swords in their scabbards. Kelbain and Draven were standing in front of the throne, already facing her, while Zane faced the same direction, but on his knees in front of his father.

  “Dirce!” Zane yelled.

  “Kelbain, what is the meaning of this?” Dirce tried to play to Kelbain, but she already knew that the secret was revealed.

  Kelbain had a look of anger about him that was unknown to Dirce. It was mixed with a look of absolute hurt.

  “You disappoint me, Dirce,” he said sadly.

  Draven spoke up this time. “You really are a fool,” he mockingly addressed the future queen. “Evolutionaries can also learn to resist the will of an Illusionist such as yourself.”

  Dirce’s heart sank. Her stomach felt awful. She was beginning to despair like never before, and she didn’t know how to react. She could only look on in complete shock.

  Draven continued, “I will admit, it was my first time trying to resist that kind of power. I only agreed to try because of the amount of gold that our king offered me.

  Dirce looked even more horrified. Has he always known? She tried to speak up and defend herself, but was subdued by a nearby soldier right away when the guard covered her mouth.

  “I won’t have any more lies,” Kelbain said in an icy tone. He motioned the guard to bring Dirce closer to him. “When I gave you the power to live a long life, a life you were supposed to live with me, I didn’t know that I had unleashed any other power within you.” Dirce was now being held in front of Kelbain and Zane. “I wish that I never gave you that gift,” he said as he shook his head. Dirce shot him a scathing look, but was still unable to speak.

  Kelbain turned his attention down upon his son. “And you,” he said bitterly. “Why the betrayal?”

  If Kelbain was looking for a hint of remorse, he didn’t find it on Zane’s face. Zane spit at his father’s feet. “I love her,” Zane stated. “I didn’t want to control her like you did.” Kelbain formed a contemptuous look. Zane shook his head and smiled. “You planned to make her your queen, but you don’t know the first thing about being a true king.” He observed Kelbain’s demeanor and that it was becoming more and more enraged. Zane couldn’t help but press on. “Do you think a king would have the aspirations of a child?”

  Kelbain narrowed his eyes at this. He assumed it was another plot to degrade Kelbain’s plan to take over Areon; a plan that Zane didn’t agree with.

  “You’re just impatient, boy. This is no reason to undermine me and attempt to steal my queen and...“

  “That’s not what I mean,” Zane grinned. Confusion took over his father’s face at that point. “I’ve never been much of a Watcher,” Zane began, “but I’ve seen your plan to resurrect Grandfather.”

  Kelbain lifted his head in understanding. He should’ve known that Zane would figure it out sooner or later. His mind started to race with further realization, until Zane spoke again.

  “It will never work,” Zane chided. “There’s no way to bring him back. You’ve had us waiting on your fool’s errand, and for nothing.”

  “Oh, there is a way, son.” Kelbain said with confidence. “But, you will never be privileged enough to see that day,” he started to say as he knelt in front of Zane and stared him dead in the eyes, “because by tomorrow night, you’ll be dead.”

  Dirce tried to scream, but her attempts were smothered once again by her captive.

  Zane chucked softly, and then said, “You’d never go through with something like that, Father. I’m your only son and heir. You need me.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong again, my son. I’ve lived for many years with the same gift of long life that I gave to you and Dirce. I was mistaken to think that I ever needed an heir, especially when I could just rule Zenithor until Magor’s return,” Kelbain said.

  Zane looked worried after all. He may not have believed that Magor could return, but he was starting to realize that his father believed it. He locked eyes with Dirce, who expressed the same look of worry and fear.

  Kelbain stood up and walked behind his son. “You were a failed attempt at something that I thought I wanted,” he said callously. He unsheathed his sword and laid it upon Zane’s shoulder. Zane was terrified. Dirce was bawling under the guard’s hand. “How frustrating,” Kelbain said as he raised his sword, ready to swing.

  “Single Combat!”

  Zane’s cry echoed off the walls of the throne room, loud enough for all to hear. Kelbain stopped dead in his tracks, slowly lowering his sword. He observed the soldiers around the room, as they seemed to murmur amongst themselves.

  “What did you say?” Kelbain said in a half-whisper.

  Zane breathed a bit easier, but finished what he had to say.

  “You’re not my equal and you’re no man at all.”

  Kelbain sighed loudly and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He sheathed his sword with an aggressive thrust and spoke the words to accept the challenge.

  “I’m as much a man as you.”

  Chapter 11

  PATHFINDER

  The journey north was an arduous one. There was no easy way to make it to one’s destination, no matter what that destination was. If it wasn’t the mountains of snow with hidden, edged rocks underneath, it was the constant change in weather. Sometimes the snows came crashing down with the force of a thousand men; sometimes the wind did the same without the snow. Luckily for Thasus, he hadn’t encountered any of that just yet.

  Traveling by horse for the past five days was going to be the easy part of this trek, though he knew that once he entered the “real” North, he’d have to possibly contend with more than just bad weather. Dealing with the King was going to be bad enough.

  Thasus began to think of his father’s words, regarding King Cyrus and the man’s tendencies to be difficult. Thasus had only one mission, and that was to speak to Cale Brock; though, he knew that Cyrus would live up to his unfortunate reputation.

  At the very least, Thasus had enjoyed
his time at Hailstone Hold before heading up the mountain to Whitecrest. While the King lived in the castle up top, Hailstone Hold was the city at the bottom, acting both as the defense of the North and an inspiring tourist attraction. Surprisingly, Thasus had found the one place he was searching for while visiting the city; a place he needed to go before the inevitable conversation with the King. He had always savored the company of women, and being in the North for the first time demanded a proper encounter. In the East, the women were respectable, polite, and for all intents and purposes, conventional, at least in his eyes. After hearing about the women of the North, he made sure to arrive at first light.

  He made his way to the castle sometime after supper, approaching the tall gates with caution. Whitecrest was an impressive structure that seemed to be embedded into the mountain behind it. It was gigantic and white, as the name suggested, but also served a strategic value, as it blended into the snow on the mountain, which almost made it invisible to the untrained eye.

  Two guards at the gates met Thasus with caution.

  “State your business, ser.”

  “Thasus Palidor of Angelia, here to see North King Cyrus.”

  The guards exchanged looks, and then addressed the visitor.

  “The King is expecting you, my lord.”

  Thasus’s forehead rose in surprise as the guards allowed him to pass. It seemed the King had been made aware of his visit to the city below. At the entrance to the throne room, two more guards opened the doors and Thasus walked in. The room was cold and dark, both due to the wind that blew throughout the area. There were torches lit on the walls, as with any other room, but the wind gusts made the flames sputter about.

  Across the room, sat King Cyrus Norton. He was a slim man that seemed to be of average height, from what Thasus could gather while the King was seated. Also noticeable was the wall of ice that stood behind the throne itself; it helped the dark gray throne stand out amongst the rest of the room as best it could. The man had the Northern Crown atop his head and it was the only thing bright about the room. Thasus seemed to remember hearing a story about the crown and how it wasn’t the original. Supposedly, when the Nortons took over the North, they did away with the crude wreath that the Brocks had fashioned and shaped a golden crown that befitted a ruler. The gold trinket displayed on the head of King Cyrus appeared to confirm that rumor.