Prophecy Of The Guardian (Guardian Series Book 1)

by J. W. Baccaro

  Prophecy Of The Guardian

  BOOK ONE

  Guardian Series

  By

  J.W. Baccaro

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination, or they are used fictitiously and are definitely fictionalized. Any trademarks or pictures herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks or pictures used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form (electronic or print) without permission from the author. Please do not participate in piracy or violating the author’s rights.

  Editing By:

  Bonnie Lea Elliott

  Book & Cover Design By:

  Wicked Muse Productions

  ®Forbidden Realm Publishing

  September© 2013, J.W. Baccaro

  THE GUARDIAN BOOKS

  THE ENTIRE SERIES

  BOOK ONE

  BOOK TWO

  BOOK THREE

  BOOK FOUR

  BOOK FIVE

  I would like to dedicate this book to the loving memory of my father John M Baccaro. My dedication also goes to my son Alexander Seth Baccaro and my wife Melissa J Baccaro—whose love and companionship continue to see me through the dark stages of life. Without them, I’d still be lost.

  INTRODUCTION TO THE EPIC GUARDIAN SERIES

  The Elemental Crystals were originally created to protect the earth. However, Abaddon the Demon Lord plans to use them to transform the earth into a realm of haunting darkness and witchery, forever.

  In Guiding The Blue Flame, a young but powerful Nasharin Warrior, Darshun Luthais is drawn to one of these magical crystals of immense power. He learns he’s the fulfillment of the two thousand year old Prophecy of the Guardian. The Wizard Olchemy informs him that he is the protector and guardian the earth has been waiting for.

  With Darshun’s ability to sense the Elemental Crystals, Olchemy devises a plan to obtain them. Accompanied by a small group of companions the hunt is on, in hopes to retrieve the long lost crystals before the Demon Lord claims them.

  During the journey, Darshun encounters Aurora, the sole survivor of a now extinct people. He falls in love for the first time, and now resents the so-called Guardian of the Prophecy role.

  Due to Darshun’s naïve spirit he’s caught off guard by Nayland, a mysterious dark warrior who confronts him about his abandonment of the quest. He reveals that he too, is a Nasharin warrior, though far exceeding Darshun in skill and power. Darshun’s father, Mirabel saves him from death at the hands of Nayland.

  Outmatched and in bewilderment from the attack, a fire awakens in Darshun. He plans on reaching his father’s level of power with a journey to Shajin Island, where Nasharin Warriors train. He’ll be gone for only one day in Earth realm time, but due to the magic of the rigorous island, it will be seven long years for him. Entering the mystical realm of Shajin, he eagerly awaits its life threatening challenges.

  In Crossing Forbidden Lines, Darshun faces a solemn heartbreaking betrayal by the woman he loves and is left dying from a hideous torture inflicted by the Queen’s guards. He is healed by a female Elf, Kelarin who he calls his angel.

  Feeling his power to be tripled, he battles Queen Talvenya’s son and slays him. Thus, earning the Queen’s undying vow of revenge. Afterward, he faces the Demon Lord in a fierce battle which nearly kills him once again. After a mysterious Elder nurses him back to health, he returns to his father, Mirabel to help defeat the massive army of the Demon Lord.

  When the Wizard Olchemy re-surfaces alive and brings his powerful red dragon, along with Darshun’s new Elfin family— they all prepare for a fierce battle in The Coming Of The Light.

  The group defeats the Dark King’s Army and Darshun finally faces Queen Talvenya in a final battle.

  In Sons Of Fire, the sides of Dark and Light take their places for the Day of Darkness. Minevara, Darshun's sister faces the Vampire Queen, and must save Nayland's life by battling him to the death. Kelarin, Darshun's love is kidnapped to be the Demon Lord's blood sacrifice.

  After being bested by The Guardian, Darshun…Queen Talvenya comes to join the Light as King Loreus discovers he may be the ‘One’ chosen to carry the Sword of Purity. In Piercing The Darkness .This sword has been foretold to have the power to unite all the races of the Earth Realm. Kaylis joins them both for a journey to the dreaded Centaur kingdom. Darshun gathers many for the upcoming battles they all will have to face.

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE INVASION

  A summer heat scorched the land and the stink of death could be sensed miles away. For all upon the city of Loreladia knew something was amidst. The army hadn't returned in five days. Not a word, not a sound, driving the citizens into panic. Aimlessly did they pace the cobblestone streets, or wander along the outskirts of the city walls, with their eyes ever upon the open country.

  Then by the turning of mid-morning, came four warriors, riding across the plain on horseback, approaching the city in haste—yet only four? Whatever news they were bringing could not be good. Even if Loreladia had defeated the Cullach, five thousand Loreladian soldiers—including the king, were possibly dead. The townspeople opened the gates, allowing the riders passage while eagerly awaiting the news of the battle.

  The bloodiest of the four, Mirabel Luthais, gazed upon the people and knew they were expecting the worst, with faces showing fear and anxiety. He drew closer to them, his blue eyes shining in the sunlight, his long, brown hair swaying in the wind. “Fellow Loreladians…The battle is lost; this war—over.”

  “Where is our king?” the people shouted.

  No answer needed to be given. By the look in Mirabel's eyes, it became evident, no other would be returning home. With such great loss, especially their king, they began to weep and moved aside as a woman with a little boy walked between them, approaching Mirabel.

  The woman wore a casual looking long, gray dress trailing across the ground, while the boy was clothed in a golden silk waistcoat embellished with gems and matching linen short pants. Stopping before Mirabel, he raised his head—those amber eyes filling with tears. “Is it true, sir? Is my father really gone?”

  Mirabel climbed down from his horse, knelt and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Yes, Prince Loreus, your father has passed. I am sorry.”

  The prince fell into his arms. “Why, oh why did this happen, Mirabel?”

  He did not answer. What words could he have spoken? He simply held the boy as he sobbed, gently rubbing the back of his head.

  “If our military is dead, who will protect us?” someone asked.

  With a gust of hot wind passing, Mirabel’s gaze shifted along the distressed crowd, knowing they were not going to like what he must say. Though, what choice did he—or they have? It needed to be done, or death would be certain. After wiping another tear from the prince's face, he climbed back onto his horse and faced the crowd. Taking a deep breath he told them, “Beloved people, in honor of your king’s last request, we must abandon this land.”

  “Abandon Loreladia?” voices shouted out. “This is our home. It has always been our home. For fifteen centuries!”

  “Before his death, your king asked me to lead you all away from this place and to another land. Soon, the enemy will arrive and take the city. The Cullach seek no prisoners, and I can assure you…all who remain here shall suffer a most brutal death.”

  Then a warrior, one who’d stayed behind from the battle to watch over the city, stepped through
the crowd and stood before Mirabel. He stood tall, muscular with long wavy dark hair and blue eyes, garmented in a black leather vest, burgundy cloth pants and wooden sandals. “Tell me, why should we trust you, Mirabel?”

  “How dare you say such a thing!” little Prince Loreus shouted, rubbing his teary eyes. “Mirabel would never betray us. He was friend to my father, and friend to me.”

  The warrior glanced at the prince. “I suppose this makes Mirabel the king now?”

  “Magnus!” Mirabel interrupted, “you know only a Loreladian can stand as king. Until Prince Loreus is of the age to rule, let their laws and councils decide who will lead. I have no such desire.”

  “You are no leader anyway, Mirabel,” Magnus snarled, “not anymore.” He walked away, shaking his head in seeming disgust.

  How long would the hatred go on between them? Once close like brothers, they were now bitter enemies, at least in the eyes of Magnus. Never, had he forgiven Mirabel for causing the death of his sister and nephew. Magnus swore vengeance, and if not for the Loreladian/Barbarian War interfering, he would’ve killed him long ago. Mirabel knew this but loved him anyway hoping one day his oldest friend would forgive his sin of such dire ignorance.

  After a sigh, Mirabel addressed the crowd once again, “My brothers and sisters, our final attempt to save this land has failed, and we have not the power to defend the city for long. The Cullach are within the thousands and continue to come. Please, for your sake, not mine, let us honor the king’s final request.”

  “Lead us, Mirabel,” Prince Loreus beseeched him.

  The true authority had spoken. Who could argue with the future king?

  “All right, everyone except for the prince go and gather your essential belongings and meet me outside the eastern wall within an hour. And do make haste.”

  The people obeyed, scattering off into different directions, panic driving their hearts.

  “Why do I stay, Mirabel?” Prince Loreus asked, staring up at him.

  “Come with me to your father’s castle.” Mirabel stretched his hand down. “There's something he wanted you to have.”

  Taking his hand, the prince climbed onto the horse, wrapping his arms around Mirabel’s dry bloody armor. They rode to the castle where they abruptly stopped at the front gates to station the mare. They passed through the entrance, Loreus struggling to keep up with Mirabel’s stride, and made their way upstairs.

  They entered into the King’s Hall of Heroes. In this great room, statues of past Loreladian men and women who’d done wondrous deeds during their lifetime stood on either side of the walkway. In front of each monument was a stone tablet inscribed with a brief summary about the individual. One statue in particular was of a man holding a golden sword and shield.

  Mirabel stopped beside it and retrieved the relics braced upon the stone.

  Loreus wondered what he might be doing, disturbing the statue of the great King Lythar, founder of Loreladia.

  Then he placed the sword into Loreus’ hand and the shield into his other. “Your father wanted you to have these. His final gifts for you.”

  Tears streamed down the prince’s cheeks. “Lythar is my favorite Loreladian hero; the most inspiring.”

  “He knew that. There is a prophecy aligned with this sword also.”

  “Father never mentioned anything.”

  “He meant to teach you one day, but it seems I shall be the one who reveals it.”

  “Now?”

  “Today is not the proper time. We must focus on the journey to our new land. Then, when all settings are right, I shall teach you.”

  “All right, whatever you say, Mirabel.” The prince gazed at the golden blade, lifting it into the air, and set it back down. “It feels weightless.”

  Mirabel raised his brows. “Perhaps in time, if you are the one, you will understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  At that moment, Loreus' aunt entered the hall. “Prince Loreus. Please come. We have much to accomplish before we leave.”

  Mirabel knelt down and gave him a hug. “Go on, I’ll see you soon.”

  When they left, another individual entered, stepping through shadow and into the light. He stood about five foot eight with broad shoulders, long metallic-gold hair and bronze eyes. It was the warrior Seth Caelen, one of the four who’d returned from the battle. His cracked Milandrith armor stank with Cullach blood, dried and crusted from the summer heat. “My brother,” Seth greeted, his tone saddened and a little concerned. “How strange it has come to this—Loreladia and all her history now to be forgotten and replaced by evil.”

  Mirabel stood by the window and gazed out at the city. “I fear this is just the beginning.”

  “The beginning?”

  “Did you not feel a strange presence on the battlefield today—a presence of evil beyond the Cullach?”

  “Ah, but of course. We’ve had this conversation before, since the very start of the invasion.”

  “I know, only this time on the field of death, it was much worse—a form of darkness I‘ve never sensed. The Cullach are obeying a higher power, and I fear it is after more than this land. Both of us have fought battles together and held our hopes until the end, but this time hope died almost as soon as it was born. We were outnumbered a thousand times over, a number no one—not even I expected.”

  “I know this particular tribe of Cullach differs from the Western clan,” Seth reasoned. “But still, I sense the work of Asgoth behind this.”

  “Maybe. The problem lies in the fact that you and I have combed the outskirts of Asgoth, and found that Tanarokai remains at bay. His tribes keep their place. These attacking Loreladia are larger, fiercer and more hideous, resembling traits of the Northern Cullach who once roamed the desolate land Syngothra. The only difference being their black leathery skin.”

  “Except for he who killed King Loreus. The surprise was more than we’d bargained for.”

  Mirabel understood the surprise Seth spoke of. He wasn't simply referring to the tragedy befalling the King of Loreladia. Instead, it was about he who drove the sword through Loreus' gut, the chief Cullach Deloth.

  Until a few days ago, none had seen Deloth unmasked. Then with the last battle his helmet had been removed during the heavy fighting, thus revealing his features. Dirty white skin showed with shades of ice blue spotted and scattered, red glistening eyes, high pointed ears and a set of tusks extending well past his lower cracked lip—all meaning only one thing; Deloth was of the old Syngothrian clan, a tribe from the northern land, possessing the most ancient of evils.

  “What could the north possibly want with this land?” Mirabel wondered aloud. “What are they seeking? I fear something terrible lies ahead.”

  The next few moments passed in silence, and Mirabel seemed restless, eager to ask something prodigious. “Do you believe we’re the only Nasharins left?” He felt as though mockery might result from such a question.

  Meeting Mirabel’s eyes, Seth answered, “Besides Magnus, his son, you and me? I haven’t seen another in a hundred years. Why do you ask?”

  “Because last night, during my meditation—I felt the presence of one. It was faint, but no doubt Nasharin.”

  “What are the odds of another having survived the Great Plague?”

  “...I don’t know. Something beyond our knowledge is arising and I fear it has to do with this evil the Cullach are obeying.”

  They both turned toward the window as they overheard many people in the streets, quickly moving across the cobble stone roadways, making their way to the exit gates.

  “But for now we must focus on getting the Loreladians to safety.” Mirabel nodded.

  “Where are you leading them?”

  “To an untouched land a few days past Arundel Mountain.”

  “Arundel Mountain? That’s going to be a long and difficult journey for the people. Especially in this summer’s heat and you know humans are far less equipped than us Nasharins.”

  “Determination wi
ll drive them.”

  “Perhaps, although you mustn’t forget most of these remaining Loreladians are not warriors, but civilians. Those who could have made such a journey, lay dead back on the battlefield.”

  “I promised the King of Loreladia I would do this. His kingdom—and his life have been lost. I will not allow the hope he had in his people to become lost also.”

  “I trust you, Mirabel. I’m only cautioning you. Something tells me this journey will not flow smoothly.”

  “Then I shall deal with the consequences. Now let us go.”

  Mirabel and Seth arrived at the east end of the outer city walls and within the crowd stood three distinct, recognizable faces: the warrior Magnus, his wife Sorrel and their son Kaylis.

  “Greetings.” Mirabel nodded to them.

  Magnus huffed slightly and turned away.

  “Hello! Hello!” Kaylis shouted, jumping up to hug him. Even after the Loreladian tragedy, Kaylis still seemed to rejoice at the sight of Mirabel. He’d grown very fond of him because he treated the little Nasharin like a son. There seemed to be nothing Mirabel wouldn't do for Kaylis; though he was aware Magnus thought it vain, a simple act to reconcile for losing his own heir. “Are we really leaving?” Kaylis asked.

  “I am afraid so.”

  “We have faith in you,” Sorrel assured him, tossing aside her locks of orange-red hair. No matter what affliction she found herself under, Sorrel always managed to look her best, clothed in a blood-red satin blouse and a sky-blue wool skirt with fancy black boots. It wasn’t so much she was vain, rather, she loved the beauty of creation—heart and soul and she was a natural. There wasn’t any attire she didn’t look good in. “I trust you will lead us to a better place.”