Genesis of War: The Realm of Areon Book 1

by R. T. Cole

  “Take care not to stray off the path,” he warned. “For years there’s been talk of a place where the blizzard never ends, and that it is only found when the Fool’s Marches are avoided. There’s been talk of a fearsome creature that dwells in this place,” he hesitated to mention. “A mighty beast,” he added.

  Thasus tilted his head and asked, “But if that were true, wouldn’t that place be the real place named for a fool?”

  Vandal snapped back.

  “Don’t make me worry, Thasus. Just stick to the damn path.”

  Thasus smiled as he remembered toying with his father’s worrisome nature. He chortled, as he thought of smiling at a time like this and in a place this dangerous.

  No wonder the Northerners are so surly, he thought.

  Three days of traveling from Whitecrest had almost put a damper in his sense of humor, but things were starting to look promising. In the distance, he could see it: the icy fortress that was the Frostford. Being a Pathfinder had helped many times in the past, but using his ability to find his way through the snows had proved extremely useful. Normally, he would’ve pictured the path before he left Angelia, but hadn’t made the time to do so; he focused on the quickest way to Whitecrest and left it at that until he needed to Pathfind again.

  As he closed in on the Frostford, Thasus took a moment to absorb the view. The Frostford wasn’t just made up of the main fortress, but was surrounded by structures where people lived and breathed the cold air on a regular basis. The houses were much smaller than the fortress in comparison, but were impressive nonetheless; they were made of rock formations that must’ve naturally formed from the ground at some point in history, and they were encased in any sturdy materials that the people could find, in order to make them habitable. Of course, they were also covered in snow, which made them blend into the rest of the backdrop.

  The fortress itself was made of ice. Thasus thought that it stood out like a sore thumb, but it was also beautiful and intimidating at the same time. It wasn’t so much the frozen complex that alarmed him, but the large lake that surrounded the fortress and houses. He was sure that one step in that water would immediately freeze him, leaving him a cripple. It was a good thing there was a bridge that led to the center of the Frostford; that was made of ice as well.

  “Great,” he muttered to himself.

  After stepping onto the bridge, he realized that it wasn’t as bad as he thought; the ice never cracked or even gave a hint of being unstable, though it was still a bit slippery. Still amazed at how something like that could’ve been built, he shook his head in awe. When he finally made his way over the bridge, he passed by a few denizens of the Frostford, who seemed to stare at him the entire time. He even observed a few women looking at him with lustful eyes; he thought of his stop at Hailstone Hold a few days before and wondered if there was an establishment here that would accommodate his needs. He shook his head of the distraction as he stomped his way through the snow and toward the entrance of the fortress.

  He was met by a burly man guarding the gate. Thasus assumed the man was outside for a long time, as he was covered head to toe in clothes that would protect anyone from the weather there.

  “Good day, sir. I’m here to see Lord Brock. Tell him Prince Thasus of Angelia wishes to speak to him and it is of grave importance.”

  “Hrrm,” the man grunted. “Don’t get many visitors here, Prince.” He turned to enter the door and deliver the message, but turned toward Thasus before opening the door as if he had just remembered something.

  “Your weapon,” he pointed to Thasus’s scabbard.

  Thasus didn’t like the idea of disarming, but knew that the Lord of the Frostford would most likely refuse to see him if he was armed. It was a smart move for any true ruler. He could respect that.

  “Of course,” Thasus replied. He handed over his sword, though he almost hesitated to part with it. Archangel, as he had named his sword years ago, was a longsword that was gifted to him from his father when he came of age. He remembered the feeling of holding it for the first time; how it required the use of both hands and the way it sounded as he swung it. His brothers were so jealous when he received Archangel, at least until they received their own swords when they turned the same age. They even had this idea in their heads that their father had the swords made at the Ironforge in Rikter’s Hollow, but Thasus rejected that claim.

  “Do you really think that Father would’ve gone out of his way to have our swords made at the largest and most legendary forge in all of Areon?” he had asked them.

  Andemar and Rudimere had exchanged glances and quickly looked back at Thasus.

  “Yes!” Rudi said loudly.

  “Of course,” Andemar said at the same time.

  Thasus shook his head in annoyance. He and his brothers were very different from each other in many ways, but when it came to tales of myth and legend, they were all extreme opposites: He believed in the stories about the Ironforge and how the best weapons were made there, but he believed it to be the work of the skilled blacksmiths and nothing to do with the forge itself. Rudi thought the forge was made of magic and that the smiths were just skilled enough to have the ability to use the forge the way it was meant to. Andemar knew the stories of the forge, but was a firm believer that it was just that: a story. He may have believed that their father had the weapons made there, but didn’t think for a second that there was anything special about them. Andemar was always quick to reject anything to do with the possibility of being touched by Sages; he had no love for them.

  Thasus sighed as he thought of Andemar’s mistrust of Sages.

  If he knew about me…

  His thoughts trailed off as he was about to be brought into the Frostford for the first time. The guard led the way up the stairs and through the cold hall. Thasus had to keep reminding himself about the lack of banners in Northern halls; they didn’t like to be identified by an animal or object, but preferred to be recognized by name alone. The Brocks. The Gargans. The Nortons. All of Areon knew who they were and it wasn’t because of a sigil or a piece of cloth that waved over a battlefield; their names reminded others of the strength of a Northerner.

  As he reached the end of the hall, Thasus stood a few feet away from the Lord of the Frostford, waiting his turn for an audience. The Lord and his guest spoke in whispers, which seemed odd to Thasus, as it didn’t look like the guest was from this place.

  “Thank you. We will speak again soon,” Cale Brock said to his guest. As the individual turned to leave, she smiled at Thasus before walking past him.

  This caught him off guard. He didn’t know that Cale was speaking to a woman; otherwise he would’ve thought to behave properly as she walked by. Though, she didn’t make it easy, as she was dressed head to toe in different furs and skins that were covered in snow, which masked her identity a bit. All he could make out was her face; she wasn’t overly attractive to him, having quite the squared jaw and muddled shoulder-length hair, though she did have beautiful sapphire eyes.

  “Lord Brock,” the guard addressed Cale. “This is Thasus, Prince of Angelia.”

  Cale Brock shifted in his chair at the sound of the name. Thasus took note of that, thinking it was strange.

  “Prince Thasus,” Cale pointed out. “I was sorry to hear of Victor’s passing. Our grandfathers certainly lived up to their reputations, did they not?”

  Thasus examined the Lord of the Frostford as he spoke. Cale was large in height, with dark blonde hair: features that he shared with his grandfather, Maven Brock, or so Thasus had been told by his grandfather in years past. Lord Brock’s apparel was mostly gray with white trim, and was almost as regal in appearance as the Nortons at Whitecrest; the only difference here was that Cale’s chair was covered in the fur of a dead animal. The further north he traveled, the more it seemed that Thasus encountered less of a lordly appearance in its leaders.

  “They did, my Lord,” Thasus replied. “It is because of that reputation that I seek you out tod
ay.” Noticing Cale’s intrigue, he continued. “Our grandfathers were friends, my Lord. They fought the Demon Sorcerer together and won. As their kin, we should be able to do the same.”

  Cale chortled softly.

  “And what enemy would pose a threat large enough to rival Magor?”

  “His son,” Thasus stated.

  Cale’s eyes narrowed. It looked as if he hadn’t heard of Kelbain’s exploits in the West.

  “What of Lord Kelbain? Still having skirmishes with the Prastors?”

  Thasus looked at him curiously.

  “He killed the Prastors. All of them. He’s crowned himself West King and has declared war on the rest of Areon.”

  This took Lord Brock by complete surprise. He stood up and looked toward his men in the room.

  “Why did this news escape my ears!?” he shouted. He took a moment to collect his thoughts when no one answered and let out a sigh. “Norton… Of course he didn’t tell me.”

  “Forgive me, Lord Brock, but I don’t believe he knew either.” After explaining to Cale that he had to maneuver his way past Whitecrest in order to deliver his message to the Lord of the Frostford personally, and without telling King Cyrus of his plans, he realized that he had Cale’s full attention.

  “I’m impressed, Palidor. So, the North King knows you’re here, but doesn’t know why. Curious,” he smirked. “Why would you keep this from him?”

  “Honestly, my Lord, the Nortons are stubborn,” he said plainly. “King Cyrus will not help us in this war, if only because he has a grudge against my uncle.”

  Cale tilted his head back in realization.

  “Ah yes. The King has many grudges, it seems,” Cale said.

  Thasus took note of that comment as well, but Cale failed to elaborate further.

  “So it’s help you seek?” Cale inquired.

  Thasus nodded.

  “Yes, Lord Brock. We were hoping that with our family’s ties in the past, we could forge a new alliance and end Kelbain’s quest for supremacy over the whole land. Together.”

  Lord Brock looked on Thasus, expressing sympathy with his dark eyes. He walked down the steps from his chair and approached Thasus, standing directly in front of him.

  “I admire your enthusiasm, Prince Thasus. But, I cannot help you.”

  This shocked Thasus to his core. He couldn’t believe Lord Brock’s response, he almost snapped back at him.

  “My Lord, I…”

  “Kelbain is the new West King, Prince Thasus. Like it or not, we have to come to terms with one thing: to challenge the armies of both Zenithor and Woodhaven is madness.”

  Thasus was still in shock. After his entire journey led him here, he was failing. There had to be something he could say to convince Cale to help.

  “Lord Brock, Kelbain has no honor. He will stop at nothing to control all of Areon. He declared war on us already. How long do you think it will be before he reaches the North after he defeats the rest of us?” In his heart, Thasus didn’t really believe that Kelbain would defeat the East, or even the combined forces of the East and South if Rudi was successful in his quest, but he needed to play to Cale’s proudness.

  “You and your men are warriors, Cale,” Thasus spoke more personally as he dropped the Lord’s title. “We need your help.”

  Cale considered the request for a moment. Then, he veered off the topic.

  “Tell me, Thasus: do you know the story of the Heroes of the Sorcerer’s War? The real story?”

  Thasus grew impatient, but shook off any anger for the time being. Perhaps if he heard Cale out, he’d have a better understanding of his motivations.

  “Of course. My grandfather and your grandfather, Maven, along with Abacus Argon and two others, defeated Magor at the end of the war.”

  “This is true, in a sense,” Cale said. “But you do know that Maven was the one who dealt the killing blow to end the war?”

  Thasus realized that his grandfather never actually mentioned specific details such as that. As kids, he and his brothers knew the tale of the battle, that King Victor was stabbed, which is how he received his scar, and that Magor was killed in the process. It didn’t occur to him that they never asked who was responsible. He wondered if his father had knowledge of this.

  “I wasn’t aware, my Lord,” Thasus admitted.

  “You see,” Cale started. “Maven never got the credit that was due to him. He saved Victor from certain death and then beheaded Magor. What did he receive in return? The Nortons rose up and had taken Whitecrest. The Gargans claimed Rikter’s Hollow for their own. We were left with the Frostford; a damn death trap of ice.”

  Thasus stood in silence, allowing Lord Brock to let out previous frustrations.

  “We ruled all of the North, Thasus. Now we rule a pile of it,” Cale said.

  Unsure of how this related to the war with Kelbain, Thasus shook his head.

  “What I’m trying to say, Thasus, is that we need to hold on to what we’ve got. If Kelbain ever makes it up here, then we’ll die like Brocks: fighting until the bitter end... just like my father.”

  Thasus once heard a rumor that Cale’s father, Baldric, was killed in a one-on-one fight with a Sage, but was interested in the story if Cale was willing to tell it. He knew he should be more disappointed about Cale’s refusal to ally with the East, but curiosity took the better of him.

  “Forgive me, but what happened to him, my Lord?”

  Cale seemed as if he did not want to touch that subject. He turned on Thasus and walked back up to his chair and sat down. Sighing, he began to open up.

  “My father, Maven’s son, was murdered in Single Combat almost a year ago. You speak of Kelbain having no honor, but he’s a King. My father’s murderer wasn’t even a man,” he spat. “He had no allegiance and he killed my father for sport. Word has it that he challenged my father to see if he could defeat a Brock in battle. But I know better: he killed my father because he was a Sage.”

  Shocked, Thasus had to clarify.

  “Your father was a Sage?”

  “A Pathfinder, yes,” Cale revealed.

  This hit Thasus a bit more personally, given his own ability. If there were people out there murdering Sages for sport, then he needed to be cautious who knew about him. He had already hidden it from those closest to him, but this was different. Many people in Areon feared Sages and their powers, and some would even avoid Sages altogether, but it was rare for murder to occur because someone couldn’t help who they were… or so Thasus thought.

  Is this what our world has become?

  Saddened by this knowledge, he couldn’t help but feel for Cale.

  “My apologies, my Lord. I didn’t know,” Thasus said.

  “Of course you didn’t,” Cale shot back. “I just told you!”

  Thasus was glad to know a bit more about Cale and his family, but had to think quickly if he was going to salvage this entire mission. Then, he pondered for a moment, wondering if Cale’s need for revenge was strong enough to motivate him further.

  “My Lord,” Thasus said as he took a step up toward Cale. “What if I were to track down this man?”

  Cale regarded him for a moment, but then waved him off.

  “Come now, Thasus. What would you have to gain by tracking down my father’s murderer?” After Thasus gave him a knowing look, the Lord of the Frostford’s eyes widened in awe. Trading the man with no honor for an alliance with the East seemed to sound better and better. The Lord of the Frostford laughed.

  “Once again, you’re full of surprises, Palidor. I’ll tell you everything I know, but I can’t fathom how you plan to find him. He could be anywhere in Areon,” Cale said.

  Thasus smiled at the irony.

  Chapter 15

  THE TRAVELER REVEALED

  The moon was full, casting its light on the darkness of the road. A short distance away from the road, there was a crackling sound, as a fire gave off smoke and embers in its intensity. The party that sat around the fire was burdened wi
th anguish and concern while their Prince lay wounded on the ground.

  Ashra knelt by Rudimere’s side, holding his hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. Merroc paced the perimeter back and forth, patrolling in case any more bandits reared their heads in the black of night. Jasian and Paxton looked on while the traveler that came to their aid gathered materials around the woods.

  “What are you doing?” Paxton asked.

  Without missing a step, the traveler continued to gather goods from the shrubs that surrounded them.

  “I’ve lived on my own out here for many years,” he divulged. He pointed to a particular bush a few feet away from the fire. “This herb will help to heal him once I get the arrow out.” He then pointed to another plant nearby. “This one will save the wound from infection.”

  “Why are we listening to him?”

  Merroc had stopped pacing and addressed the mysterious man.

  “Where did you come from? Why were you there?” he demanded to know.

  The man shrugged amidst his quick movements between the bushes.

  “That’s easy: I was enjoying my apple when I saw your friend here; outnumbered and about to die,” he said simply. “No man should go like that. It’s not right.”

  “So, if Rudi were fighting a one-on-one fight, you wouldn’t have interfered?” Paxton interjected.

  Still moving back and forth, the man replied, “You would be correct in that assumption.” Finally, as he found everything he needed, he sat beside Rudi and prepared his herbs. “He wouldn’t have needed my help then, right?”

  “Well I guess we should be happy that Rudi was outnumbered then,” Paxton said in a derisive tone.

  The traveler looked to Ashra on the other side of Rudi.

  “Your friend has a strange way of saying ‘thank you’.”

  Paxton throws his hands in the air, giving up the argument with the man, and pulls some wine out of his sack, taking a drink. His arm was then jerked to the side by an enormous feat of strength. Merroc stood in front of him, seething.

  “This is on you,” Merroc accused.