The Warrior Mage
Book 2 in The Power of Three trilogy
by
Sabine A. Reed
Cover Design by LFD Designs
Amazon Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Warrior Mage
Copyright © 2013 by Sabine A. Reed
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
The Warrior Mage
Alicia must travel to the Temple of God Yuddha where self-proclaimed emperor Vindha is birthing the fearsome demon mages. She is caught between her deep desire to help the man whose screams she hears in her nightmares, or fulfilling her duty to her siblings?
Can Kayleb use the fifth element of magic to help Alicia destroy the temple of God Yuddha?
Will the northern kingdoms ally with Iram to fight the ultimate battle with Vindha?
A story of great courage, sacrifice…and magic born from the elements.
Chapter One
The battle was well into its third day.
Kayleb adjusted his grip on the sword and used his free hand to swipe the droplets of blood off his face. Today was probably the last day of his life and if that was so, then he intended to die with the dignity of a true warrior.
“Men, arm yourselves!” His voice boomed across the plain as he turned to face the three hundred or so of his warriors who rallied behind him. They were less than one third of his army; the rest had been slaughtered during battle over the past two days. Battered, bruised and bloodied, the remaining soldiers stood firm behind him, desperate to protect their kingdom from the ruthless onslaught of King Vindha’s legions.
Today, they would all fight till the end.
As the sun broke the dark barrier at the far horizon, creating a haze of red and yellow, Kayleb stood tall, not giving any indication of the exhaustion that was set into his very bones. His black hair was streaked with dust. He had barely slept the night before, choosing instead to sit with the wounded and the dying. Kayleb showed none of the despair that coursed through his heart. His people depended on him to see them through this final battle, and he would lay his life along with them to soak their ancestral land with blood.
“This is our last stand,” he said. “We will die before letting the enemy invade our villages and towns. Don’t forget, for every man you cut down, you are lessening the horror that will be visited upon your children and women. If we let this army go unchecked, they will kill our people. We have to stop them.”
It was a losing battle. Even he knew that it was all over, but each moment of delay offered their people a chance to escape the oncoming army and find some safe haven that would protect them; if there was any such place left on the earth.
There was little hope for success. Vindha’s army was far greater in number, and stronger in magic.
Vindha intended to unite the world under his banner and it mattered not to him that the road to victory was paved with dead, mutilated bodies, blood and gore. His men were ruthless and committed to his cause, and there were strange powers at his disposal. No ordinary mage could have laid waste to Kayleb’s army as had been done by the strange, red-eyed, black-cloaked mages under Vindha’s command.
No matter what the outcome, or how overwhelming the odds against them, Kayleb intended to kill as many of his enemies as he possibly could before succumbing to the jaws of death that chased him today. He was the king, and this was his ancestral kingdom. He would not give up until his body retained the strength to wield the sword, and weave his magic.
“Die today, or kill them.” Kayleb raised his sword as the first light of dawn bounced off the sharp edge of his weapon. “We will attack now!”
His men let out a roar and followed him to their death.
Brave men of Asanya kept Vindha’s army in check for the better part of the day. Without regard for his safety, King Kayleb led the charge as he had done for the past three days. Twice he fell on his feet, hit hard by someone’s club or sword, but always he stood and cleaved his way through the throngs of soldiers who hacked at his men. The earth split and cracked as he used his magic to open small pits that swallowed men. Plants sprouted at his command, ensnaring his enemy in thorny branches, killing or maiming them. The mages in his army used all their magic to stop the assault and turn the tide in their favor. Vicious flesh-eating plants wrapped enemy soldiers in their tangled web and disappeared back inside the earth within the blink of an eye. Vines caught and grew around the soldiers, forcing them to drop their weapons. The air rose and fell, creating tornadoes and whirlwinds. Great chunks of ice and rocks dropped on the enemy, crushing and killing the men.
But for every one man or mage they killed, another took his place. Vindha’s army was huge, its numbers overwhelming. Three hundred men were no match for these blood-crazed attackers who had no regard for their own lives.
His men fought valiantly by his side, not one of them ready to admit defeat. Many of them were killed by Vindha’s mages. A black-cloaked mage waved his hand and three of his men caught fire. Another mage raised his hand and a fountain of water showered over a man and froze. The man died within its icy prison. Who were these unholy creatures that had such tremendous power at their disposal? They were indefatigable, and harbored no regard for their own safety. Their hollowed faces, and gleaming red eyes, showed no emotions or remorse at the countless number of people who died at their hand.
Kayleb hacked and parried, he dodged fire balls and flesh-eating plants. Someone drenched him with water, trying to freeze him, but he escaped by commanding the earth to swallow the ice that threatened to entomb him. Although his magic protected him to some degree from the daggers and swords that whistled past his head, soon the drain on his energy began to slow his movements. Kayleb had trained hard to become a competent soldier, but now he found it difficult to raise his sword. The magic demanded a price, and his energy was at an end.
The sun was a scorching ball of golden fire, beating down mercilessly upon the blood-soaked land when a lull in the battle forced him to stop. He looked back and stumbled at the sight of his men who lay dead all around him, their bodies hacked and bloodied. Some of them were caught and killed by plants, others frozen to death. Some were burnt to cinders and others were ensnared in gales of wind, flown into air and dropped to the ground to their death. The enemy mages gave no quarter. Seven of his mages, the only ones in the army, were already dead.
The battle was truly over. He was the last man standing. Kayleb raised his sword, not sure what he intended to do.
Bloody, sneering men surrounded him, their swords gleaming red from the blood of his people.
One last effort, he decided, gathering his will as he weaved a spell to annihilate all those around him. He would die also but he would take along with him an entire contingent of the king’s army. He focused his will towards the earth on which he stood, but before he could commit to the spell, someone crashed into him from behind.
“Enough! The King wants him alive,” commanded a voice. The sword fell from his hand as a strong gust of wind, conjured out of magic, wrenched it out of his grasp. It fell at his feet with a resounding thud.
As he fell forward, Kayleb’s last memory was a gaunt, leering face that boasted a smile that would haunt his thoughts forever.
Dusk had nearly fallen when Kayleb rega
ined his senses. A quick check of his surroundings showed that he was lying on the same plain, but within the enemy camp. His head hurt with a ferocious intensity. His hands were tied with a thick, knotted rope, and there was a heavy, silver chain around his neck.
People walked about, no one sparing a glance for him. He didn’t see a guard. Sensing an opportunity, Kayleb summoned his magic. For the first time in his life, his power refused to obey. He was unable to call upon his element of earth.
His power, the source of his magic, his birthright, was gone. Unable to believe such a deed was possible, he tried again and again, pushing with his will to gather the power of the earth around him, but despite his best efforts he could not feel the stirring of magic within his body. Was he too exhausted to make it work?
Or had somehow Vindha been able to strip him of his power?
Fear struck at his heart. He’d heard the dreaded king had strange mages in his command. Did they have the ability to strip a mage of his power? Despair, an unknown emotion, began to burrow deep in his heart. Without his magic, without the power of the element of earth that was forever infused through his veins, he was nothing. He was nobody. His identity, his strength came from his birthright. How could someone have stolen that?
The sun began its journey to the west, its rays losing their fiery edge as they softened to a warm, golden glow. The moon rose in the sky, and still Kayleb struggled to bring back his power. A few people stopped to look or laugh at him. He was a prisoner of the war, his fate unknown. Probably he would be sentenced to death before morning - and yet all he could think of was the loss of his magic. The earth had been his element from the moment he was born, and he had been able to command it at will from the time he was able to form a coherent thought. He’d never heard of a mage losing his power. How did one survive such a catastrophe? Why had this been done to him, and how?
All around him there was fervent activity as soldiers pitched tents and lit fires. The army was settling down for the night. The wind picked up, bringing a cool relief from the afternoon heat - and yet Kayleb was unable to summon the magic.
Two soldiers walked towards him. They held no weapons in their hands, and yet the sight of them filled Kayleb’s heart with dread. Without his magic, and a sword in his hand, he felt vulnerable. Scared. Lost. The men held his arms and pulled him up, a bit roughly. One of them spat on the floor next to his feet.
“The King! Ahh! Let’s see what happens to kings who don’t surrender to the emperor,” he sneered.
They marched Kayleb into the middle of the camp, occasionally shoving and punching him if he failed to keep up. Hungry, thirsty and nearly delirious with the loss of his magic, Kayleb barely noticed the groups of soldiers who were squatting next to fires or outside tents, eating, drinking or talking. Not many paid any attention to his plight. Twice, he saw the same black-cloaked mages standing, always apart from other men. Everyone was giving them a wide berth, and even Vindha’s soldiers appeared to avoid them. He found two more of them standing guard outside a large, blood-red tent. His guards stopped a few feet away from the tent door, as if hesitant to proceed.
“We’ve bought the prisoner,” said the same man who spoke to him earlier. His voice was deferential, even scared.
The mages didn’t speak. Instead they stepped away from the door, giving silent permission to proceed. As Kayleb was marched past the mages, he tried to see the face of the one nearest him. It was impossible to see anything under the cowl that covered the mage’s face, and yet, a shudder of revulsion rippled through his body. For some strange reason, he was glad he hadn’t been able to make out the features of the mage.
What were these strange creatures? And how did they become so powerful?
His guard shoved him, and he fell on the floor. “Here is the prisoner, Your Majesty.”
“A little respect, please. He is a king,” said a voice that was as normal as anyone’s. “Make him stand.”
The guards pulled him up.
“Leave!”
The guards obeyed instantly, leaving him standing in the center of the tent. Kayleb raised his head, not willing to give his enemy the satisfaction of seeing any sign of weakness. Vindha was an ordinary mage. Not too short, or too tall. He wasn’t thin or fat. There were streaks of grey in his hair, and shadows under his eyes. His clothes were neat and clean, but not ornate. A simple hose and tunic was covered by an emerald green cloak. The only indication of his rank was the gold, intricately wrought crown on his head, and the silver throne chair on which he sat. He wore no rings or gold chains. No guards or advisors flanked him. He was alone, and yet he seemed at ease.
He was a man Kayleb would have hardly thought of as a threat if they had met under normal circumstances, but he had wreaked havoc on half the land and was marching to conquer the other half. This man was single-handedly destroying the world as it was, and reshaping it according to an insane vision only he could understand.
“King Kayleb, I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but this is hardly the time or the place for niceties,” he said. “You fought bravely but you lost. I wished things could have been different. If only you had accepted my offer for surrender, I would have spared you and your people.”
“You have not spared anyone standing in your path.”
Vindha smiled, his perfect, white teeth gleaming in the yellow light cast by the lanterns that stood at intervals all along the tent. “True. But then they all chose to fight me. I don’t deal nicely with my enemies. If you had surrendered, I would’ve spared the lives of your soldiers. They could have joined my army, and served under my command. They would have lived.”
“The price you asked for their lives was far too great. Asanya deserves her freedom and independence. We fought because you gave us no choice. I have heard tales of kingdoms you burnt and plundered as your men marched through them.”
“And what was the point of this battle? Did you win your freedom?” Vindha laughed. “Alas, no. Now, you shall face the same fate as all others who dared to defy my command. If you had surrendered, your people would have lived. You allowed them to die, when they could’ve flourished in my rule. Freedom is highly overrated, my friend.”
Kayleb wasn’t scared. If he was going to die, he wanted to have his say before death claimed him. “So says the man who has enslaved half the world and is planning to do the same to the rest of the free kingdoms.”
Vindha shook his head, looking bemused. “You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of me. What a pity!” He waved his hand. “Genius is often misunderstood. No matter. One day when the world is united, and I am crowned as its supreme emperor, people will realize how much they are going to benefit. The world will be a better place. I will make it so. Each person will have the same rights as the other, no matter where they live. Magic will be controlled, and none will need to fear another.”
“Except you and your mages will have special powers.”
Vindha ignored him. “My vision is to see a united world. Can’t you see the benefits of such a feat? A farmer will be able to sell his ware to anyone he chooses, in whichever area, without paying taxes to the government for safe passage. A carpenter can sell his wares to the entire world. There will be no more fighting between kings regarding land. Everyone will follow the same rules. Come on! Take your example, you have been engaged in a war with your neighboring kingdom over disputed land for the past twenty years. Now, this is all my land, and every person under my rule has right to that piece of land.”
“And what about the thousands of families who have lost their lives, their farms, their work and homes as your army burnt their houses and their livelihood?”
Vindha shrugged. “All those lives could have been spared if you and the other ill-fated kings surrendered to me instead of fighting an inevitable war. I offered terms of surrender to each kingdom before embarking on a battle.”
“Your terms were ridiculous! Why would each man and woman pay a tax to you?”
“For the p
rotection I offer to each one of my subject. You see, Kayleb…” Vindha leaned forward, a fanatic smile on his face. “It’s very simple. In lieu of my benediction, everyone pays a small sum that will help me maintain my soldiers and administrative staff in each area. My highly trained officers will ensure that the land under their administration remains free of crime, and everyone gets their due share. I will control all the mages, and make sure that they use their power for the good of all, and in keeping with my vision for a safer world.”
Kayleb was appalled. Was Vindha so enthralled with his vision of the world that he failed to see that what he proposed was a form of slavery? “You are mad.”
Vindha settled back on his chair. “It matters not to me what you think. My plan will work. The children of tomorrow will grow up in a united, stronger world.”
“And what about the children of today whose parents you have killed?”
“One generation has to make sacrifices so that others can enjoy a better life. But enough of our talk.” He tapped his hand on the chair, and as if waiting for his signal, the guards entered. “I have a special plan for you. Despite my pleas to surrender and spare the lives of their men and women, each king has gone on to fight me. And while I can kill them all, I would rather avoid the bloodshed if I can. You are going to set an example for the rest of the kings, Kayleb. You will have to sacrifice so others can see the error of your ways. I could have killed on the battlefield, but I instructed my soldiers and mages to capture you alive. You want to know why?”
Dread settled into Kayleb’s heart. What had this monster planned? Death he accepted. A warrior deserved to die with dignity. “What?” he asked, his voice not betraying the turbulence in his mind.
“Take him to the caves of the succubi. He will be their play mate for as long as he shall live. Announce his punishment to the world. Put up notices and send messengers with news regarding his fate to my enemies. Those who dare oppose me will share the same fate.”
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