Genesis of War: The Realm of Areon Book 1

by R. T. Cole

  After Rudi finished building a fire, he made his way over to where Paxton was sitting, while Jasian took the time to speak with Ashra.

  “Is it true, Ashra – what Paxton said?” he inquired.

  “Does it actually matter to you?” she fired back.

  Jasian hesitated, but collected himself. “This isn’t the time,” he said. “We should be focusing on Rudi’s quest with no distractions. There’s too much at stake.”

  Ashra shook her head in frustration. “You’ll never change, will you?” she exhaled. Turning her back on Jasian, she decided to turn in for the night.

  Jasian looked toward the tree that Paxton sat by earlier, but he and Rudi were gone. Past that tree and a couple more, Rudi and Paxton were having their own conversation at the river nearby, which consisted of Rudi dunking Paxton’s head in the water.

  “You need to sober up, Pax,” Rudi stated, as the cool icy water sloshed around Pax’s head. He picked his friend’s head up out of the water. “You know that you’re of no use to us when you act this way.”

  Paxton sat back in shame. “I hate Jasian,” he confessed. “I hate that he loves Ashra too.” He closed his eyes, wishing to feel differently, but he was just a man who couldn’t hold back any more.

  “We need to learn to work together if we’re going to succeed, old friend. The Lords that we’re meant to ally with – we need to show them our strength through our bonds. Do you understand?”

  His friend’s words hit him hard, like a blacksmith slamming down on an anvil. He put his hand on Rudi’s shoulder and swore to uphold the oaths of a true knight, and that he would honor his friend’s request. Deciding that there had been enough emotion for one day, Paxton veered off the current topic.

  “How are you feeling, Rudi? I mean, you were hit with an arrow!” he said in awe.

  “Never felt better,” Rudimere replied.

  Back where Merroc and Mika sat, they had both finished their apples, while Mika presented Merroc with a second helping. Grasping the apple with enthusiasm, Merroc thought of asking Mika a personal question, but wavered. Finally, he just chose to come out with it.

  “Your fight with Baldric Brock: how did that go? Of course, you won; you’re still alive and he’s not. But, how was it, fighting the son of one of the Heroes of the Sorcerer’s War?” Merroc had completely given in to the excitement of the long-rumored legendary matchup. He was beside himself with shock, as he never acted that way. Before he could take it all back, Mika began to reply.

  “I was a bit different back then, friend. I only fought for sport; and I never fully realized the consequences of fighting in a Single Combat until that day.” Mika trailed off, while Merroc pressed him to elaborate on the story.

  “Well, there’s obviously more to it. Out with it, Mika,” Merroc proclaimed, slapping Mika’s back.

  Feeling the slight and sudden pain in the middle of his back, Mika laughed. “You are a funny man, Merroc Bowlin. Strange, but funny.” Resigning himself to tell the rest of the story, Mika brought out the wine, sharing a cup with Merroc. “Ever since that day, Cale Brock has been trying to kill me,” Mike explained. “I’ve been avoiding hunters and scalpers all across Areon; they only want the gold that Cale has offered them to bring me to him.”

  “Wait,” Merroc said, comprehending the situation. “How is Lord Brock able to demand such a thing? It’s forbidden to retaliate against a winner of Single Combat, otherwise he would lose his lands and title, unless...“

  “No,” Mika interjected. “Baldric and I agreed that there would be no Second Combat. The witnesses would not get the chance to involve themselves in the aftermath. However, Cale is a different breed of man.” He saw that Merroc wanted to argue about the rules again, but Mika spoke up again. “They are peculiar in the North, my friend. They don’t care for the rules like we do.” His voice was almost solemn when he made that last statement.

  Merroc had a newfound respect for the traveler. To be hunted as he was, even after winning a Single Combat fairly, must’ve been a tough road fraught with danger. “Tell you what,” Merroc began. “If we come across any of these scalpers, they’ll have to go through all of us too, won’t they?”

  Before Mika could reply, a noise overtook the small camp that the party had set up. They all heard the approaching horse as it sped towards their location. At that point, they all formed up around the camp, with their weapons drawn and ready for action. As soon as the sound grew closer, the rider was upon them all. Ashra was the first to notice the garb of the rider, as the man was neighbor to her.

  “A rider from Evermount!” she gasped.

  “Lady Ashra,” the rider said between breaths. He caught notice of Rudi as well. “My Prince.” He uncurled a message from his satchel and handed it to Rudimere. “My apologies for the hasty delivery, but I must be going; the East is in an uproar these days.” Just like that, the messenger was gone. Rudi began to read the letter aloud to the others:

  My Prince,

  Lord Drudorn has fallen ill and will be unable to take part

  in the alliance to combat Kelbain’s forces. To make matters

  more difficult, his sons are away in the far South,

  trading with merchants from the Silk Isles to supply

  Evermount with fresh goods. I have also sent a letter to

  King Vandal, explaining our predicament. We hope to join

  the cause once a Lord with authority is able to confirm

  our inclusion.

  Signed,

  Lucille Varian, Lady of Evermount

  Rudimere and the others stared at each other in astonishment. The Prince thought it was a bit strange that the Lady of Evermount would not act without the express permission of a Lord. He then assumed it was the way that matters were handled in Evermount; not that it would be easier for his father, the King, to handle. Allies were sorely needed in this war, and this was a setback.

  “We need to figure out our next move,” Rudi said.

  “We should go to Triton,” Ashra suggested. “My father will welcome us and give us a place to stay for a bit while we determine where we head to next. You know Triton is in the fight,” she assured Rudi.

  Merroc had been tired of this same argument. Most of the group agreed that Summerhold was the better option after Evermount; and now that Evermount was no longer an option, Merroc had no choice but to bring up the argument again.

  “Ashra, your father has already proclaimed his allegiance. Triton is an Eastern city, and you’re here with us representing that city. The decision is simple: we head for Summerhold and secure the South.”

  Rudi knew that this was the right path, but his loyalty to Ashra was holding him back from making the decision. He thought he’d have more time, but Lady Varian botched that plan. Now that their plans had changed, he had to be decisive.

  “Ash...“

  “Don’t say it, Rudi,” Ashra interrupted. “I need to see my father again. Please...”

  It killed him to hurt his friend. He didn’t have the courage to make that decision yet, after all.

  “For now, when we reach the fork in the road, we’ll head another day west to Squall’s End. There, we will reconvene and plan our next move.”

  The others nodded in agreement, though Ashra knew her friend was just stalling. The group eventually gathered their belongings and made way atop their horses. Rudi had a slight frown on his face, as he looked down on Skymane, aware that his longtime companion was not very well rested. Rudi promised him that they would catch a break soon.

  Chapter 23

  DIRCE’S DESTINY

  The would-be Queen of Zenithor had traveled fast and hard to her destination. The horse she had taken collapsed just on the outskirts of the town, and after belittling the animal for not making it the whole way, she headed into town on foot. The road she took was dirty and full of sharp rocks, as the town of Coalfell was seated at the bottom of the mountain. She had heard many things about this small piece of industrial wonderment, r
anging from the Overseer of the town, as well as Coalfell’s rich nobles who each had their own set of workers that toiled in the mines day and night. The Overseer and the nobles didn’t concern Dirce, however; it was what was rumored to be in the town that drew her attention.

  Approaching the city gates, Dirce made sure to Change into the shape of a random laborer, so as to make her way in undetected. The lonesome man guarding the gate looked to be extremely tired of his post; Dirce wondered if that would work to her advantage or not.

  “Hi. I’m looking for work,” she said in her disguised voice.

  “Go ahead,” the guard said without so much as a look in her direction.

  That’s that, she smiled to herself. She could’ve easily taken control of the man, but told herself that she would only use that power sparingly for the time being, as she wished to avoid any possible detection. Roaming the streets, she looked for signs of anyone who could help her, when suddenly she spotted a rich man walking towards a shop. A thin smirk formed across her face.

  Changing again, this time into the guise of a noble, she followed the man into the shop. Not hesitating in the slightest, she advanced on the man.

  “Greetings, sir,” her voice was more refined now. “Might I ask how it is possible to receive an audience with the Overseer?”

  The man studied her for a moment. “Hmm,” he considered. “I could get you an audience with him – if you’re willing to trade.”

  “What for?” she asked in a mockingly concerned voice.

  “Tell your workers that they’re not to set foot in the mines for a month,” the noble stated arrogantly. “If I can have those extra spoils, then I will get you the meeting you desire.”

  Dark thoughts crept up in Dirce’s mind. She couldn’t help but act on them. Speaking in a more calm, eerie voice, she let the shift of power take her into the man’s mind.

  “You will take me to the Overseer,” she commanded. “Afterwards, you will go into the mines, take a pickaxe from one of your workers and put it through your skull.”

  Repeating what she said, the nobleman led her to the house of the Overseer. Outside the front door, one of the Overseer’s servants was kneeling in the dirt, tending to his master’s garden with a pair of shears. As the servant rose to address the two figures walking up the steps, Dirce fought the urge to force the man to open the door. Instead, she allowed the accompanying nobleman do the talking.

  “Good day. Please inform the Overseer that we’d like to speak to him about a trade that we have just agreed upon, and we’d like to keep him informed for his records.”

  Dirce blinked. Well done, she spoke inside the man’s mind. Shortly after, they were brought into the Overseer’s home, where Dirce noticed many things about the man’s tastes. It was apparent that the Overseer himself was in possession of riches that looked fresh out of the mines. She surmised that he probably cut a deal with the nobles for a portion of their workers’ spoils.

  “Pitiful man,” Dirce sneered softly.

  After a few more rooms, they were finally standing before the Overseer himself. He was a short man, wearing garb that he most assuredly believed was rich in taste; Dirce scoffed at the thought, believing the man to be wearing nothing but rags in good condition.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” The Overseer asked.

  Acting quickly, Dirce made no qualms about utilizing her powers for the next part. She dove into the mind of the nobleman, telling him to leave and do what she told him to do earlier; then, she took control of the servant.

  “Go back outside and be sure to tend your garden for the rest of the day. Do not stop until I tell you to.” As the two men swiftly left the room, the Overseer’s eyes widened.

  “What is the meaning of this?!” he growled.

  Shifting toward the Overseer, Dirce let her power take over fully. All of her feelings and wishes poured out of her at once. She thought of the main reason she came here, but also held out hope for any information regarding her sister’s whereabouts.

  “I do not have time for any games today,” she threatened the Overseer. “Do you know of a woman named Lamia?”

  “I do not,” he replied in a monotone voice.

  Showing frustration, she started to tremble at the thought of never finding her sister. In the end, she decided it would be best to put aside her personal feelings about Lamia and concentrate on the more important task.

  “Pray that you have a better answer for my next question, Overseer,” she warned as she quickly reverted to her true self. “I have heard tales, rumors far and wide, that you possess one of the fabled Mystical Artifacts.” She walked toward the man slowly, almost in a slow, seductive manner. “I wish to have it. Where is it?” she said shrewdly.

  The Overseer started to convulse a bit, much to the surprise of Dirce, and he pointed to the wall above his fireplace. Dirce looked at the point of interest, when she heard the man say, “There it is: Aman’s magic spear, Nightfall.”

  Without warning, Dirce bolted to the wall. Grabbing the spear from its display, she examined the weapon in excitement. Something was off, however; she noticed it right away. The handle had been chipped and made to look as if it never happened. Dirce turned her eyes to the Overseer, seething with fury. There were beads of sweat pouring down the man’s face now, which forced Dirce to admit the impossible.

  “You’re resisting me,” she confessed with a slight hint of confusion. Focusing her power even further, she used every bit of her mental capacity to speak to the Overseer in a more serious tone. “Where is it?”

  Finally breaking through the man’s will, Dirce follows the man down some steps into the house cellar. Through the vast barrels of ale and wine, the Overseer moved a barrel out of the way and revealed a hidden door in the darkest corner of the room. As he motioned to open the door, Dirce pushed past him and entered the space. There, on the ground as if it were nothing more than a piece of trash, laid Nightfall.

  Dirce’s eyes filled with tears of joy and she hoisted the spear into the air. Right away, she took note of the craftsmanship and was convinced that it was the real thing.

  “Now, this looks to be a weapon from the Ironforge,” she exclaimed. Sheer curiousness swelled within her and she asked the man, “Why did you keep it hidden away like this, when you could’ve used it?”

  In a controlled voice, the Overseer replied, “I don’t fear many things, my lady, but I fear what that weapon can do above all other things.” The look on his face was pure worry now. He seemed to be resisting Dirce again.

  Noticing the man’s will beginning to win out again, she started to lave the room. “Well, you won’t have to fear it any longer,” she said as she plunged Nightfall into the Overseer’s gut. Leaving the man inside the hidden room, Dirce departed the house and walked outside, passing by the servant on his knees in the garden on the way out.

  Abruptly, Dirce heard screams coming from the townspeople as they ran from on of the mines. She chuckled to herself, as she imagined the sight of the nobleman’s head with a pickaxe in it. Standing atop the stairs of the Overseer’s house, she rose Nightfall into the air, concentrated her mind and addressed the people.

  “I require your attention,” she said calmly. The townspeople stopped what they were doing and approached her. “You will all be the example!” she cried out. “The example that I need to show the rest of the world that I will no longer be controlled! I am now in control,” Dirce said with malicious intent.

  Reaching further into their minds, she couldn’t tell if it was her own power or the presence of the spear that allowed her to perform such a feat. She had barely controlled more than one person in the past, and never attempted to do so to a number of people such as this. They’re all weak-minded, she thought darkly. Peasants with no place in my new world.

  “Women, you will murder your children. Men, you will murder your wives after that. Then, you will burn your houses to the ground and sit inside, waiting for me to save you from any further harm,” Dir
ce commanded with severe disposition.

  The people of Coalfell nodded slowly, as the expression of hesitation and sadness filled their eyes. The massacre was quick. Dirce saved no one that day.

  Walking out of Coalfell with the town burning behind her, Dirce headed for an abnormally large tower in the distance, determined to show the world what she was capable of.

  Chapter 24

  A POTENTIAL ALLIANCE

  Springing from a deep sleep, he gasped for air that he was in no danger of losing. Feeling the feather bed underneath him gave him comfort in an otherwise uncomfortable situation. He imagined it was only a matter of time before the King came to see him and give a lecture that he had no intention of hearing.

  After the battle with Fenrok, when Thasus finally made his way to the same hidden passage that he took from Whitecrest, he was in need of immediate attention due to his terrible wounds. It startled King Cyrus to see the bloody face of the Prince waltzing into his throne room, but Cyrus cried out for a healer right away. Afterwards, some Whitecrest soldiers moved Thasus into a room, where the healer fixed Thasus’s face as best he could. It was during the procedure where the Prince passed out, leading to his shock to be in his current location.

  As soon as Thasus began to move from the bed, King Cyrus burst into the chamber, striding toward him.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Cyrus asked.

  “I’m in no mood, Your Grace,” Thasus retorted.

  The King went to the bedside and pushed Thasus back down. “You need to rest,” he offered. Cyrus shook his head at the stubbornness of the Prince, but he could only focus on the fact that the man was alive after what he went through. He laughed as he spoke.

  “You are something else, Thasus. You fought and killed Fenrok,” he remarked with disbelief.

  “Yeah, well... he left me something to remember him by,” Thasus said, drawing attention to the scars on his face. “I think the ladies of Areon will think twice before letting me into their establishments,” he said with a forced grin.