Leviathan's King (The Search for the Brights Book 3)

by Aaron Thomas

  Atmos began rolling up the map, “I hope Catherine’s ideals have not traveled north the way they have east along this road, but if they have Brandon will need to be warned. He will have to close off the city and do what he must to protect it. Sergeant Curtain is riding north with Rekkan in a cage. Check in to see that he has arrived and been given a proper room. If something has happened to Rekkan, I will need to be notified so I can change course.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Mica replied.

  “If all well then prepare for the arrival of the former Black Hats that survived the battle with the Fire Realm. They should be a good addition to the forces back in Deuterium. Sergeant Curtain informed me that they would need to resupply when they returned to the castle. Have Brandon give them any resources they need to make their arrows. I want them to spread out throughout the walls and mixed with the current guard,” Atmos said, writing down numbers on a piece of paper.

  “Wouldn’t it be wise to bring those archers to the battle? We could have used their skills with the bows on Leviathan’s walls.”

  Atmos looked up from his paper, “Most of those boys were from the Water Realm, whom we are marching to fight. They were also trained by a master fletcher and archer that fights by the enemy’s side. No, I do not think it would be wise to have them fight at all.”

  Mica nodded his head conceding his small argument. Without the archers, their army fell short of being complete and had a complete tactical disadvantage. They had foot soldiers, cavalry, and a strong number of experienced welders. He hoped that Atmos had a plan.

  Atmos continued his complaint, “Besides, they would have joined Catherine’s ranks by now. We are losing more men every night. I have had to start posting sentries to shoot down our own men. Deserters…” The king looked as though he was deep in thought as the word left his mouth like a rotten piece of meat.

  Mica decided to change the subject, “I will relay the message to your adviser and then give Captain Lorusk your message.”

  Atmos gave a wave of his hand dismissing Mica with glazed-over eyes. The king’s behavior was unlike anything Mica had seen from him before. Even with overwhelming odds when facing the Fire Realm, he was not concerned. Mica wondered what was bothering him more: Lorusk’s failure or the elementalists that followed him.

  **********

  The closer to Deuterium Yurin traveled, the more outpost he saw. He hoped that by causing destruction, he could bring Atmos to him. Pada had given him a mission: eliminate as much of the army as you can. Yurin had other missions in mind; his top priority was to aid in Elric’s escape.

  Yurin had found as much resistance as they had when taking the villages to the south. He saw that the Earth Realm people had no honor at all. They plead to fight by the Fire Realm’s side. Yurin had become tired of saying no and still being followed anyways. He began telling the Earth Realm’s people to meet up at Deuterium and form an army that he would help take the city. If he could, he would use them to free his king, and that is how his mission to take the capital came to fruition.

  For now, he just had to clear the way. King Atmos had small outposts with towers constructed as they made their way to the southern reaches of the Earth Realm. Each one they encountered was just outside of a town's border and contained about ten men. Yurin had been allowed to take only four men with him, but each was a veteran member of the Crimson.

  The five had done their best to avoid contact with anyone in the realm, but when it came to soldiers, they sought a fight. Yurin watched the fortified structure for any weakness. The further north they traveled, the more time the soldiers had to construct defenses. Today’s particular structure had fortified enough that it had a wood roof and was surrounded by a small inner perimeter fence. The Outer fence was constructed of heavy logs with spikes at the top.

  Yurin watched as a soldier inspected supplies being dropped off at the front gate. When items were, lifted out of the wagon, Yurin could see it was mostly blankets and food. Something caught his eye as the wall guards all made their way to the front gate, leaving the back open to attack. Quickly, Yurin flashed his hand signals for the man farthest from him to attack from behind.

  Pulling his large double-sided axe from his back, he waited for the sounds of battle. It was a bit different than he was expecting. A large boom resounded, shaking the limbs of the tree far above. A spray of needles fell down around him as he peeked out from behind the tree where he was hiding. He waited to give the signal for the others to avoid notice. Another fireball lanced out of the tree line and struck the back wall of the small outpost. Soldiers with bows ran out the front gate to the corner of the wall. They launched arrows freely into the trees where one of his men was hiding.

  Yurin smiled as he counted ten enemies atop the wall and outside, all releasing arrows into the trees. On swift feet, he ran alone into the open gate and dragged a single finger along the cart sitting outside. Its canvas top caught flame as he rounded the corner.

  Inside had been set up much like the Fire Realm’s own defenses with offset entrances to the next interior wall. He smiled; he would at least get a little action before he found this particular outpost’s leader. He heard orders being given and followed the commanding voice. Taking no time to slow, he followed the wall on either side to the right giving him no escape; giving his enemy no escape.

  When he found men, it was more than he expected in such a small fort. Ten near the entrance and arming themselves with chainmail and lances. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised, him or the soldiers. Batting away the closest soldier raising a lance, he used his axe to backswing and split the man's chest from hip to shoulder.

  Blood sprayed out as he screamed his fury, “For King Elric!”

  Any soldiers unaware of his presence now knew exactly where he was. Still, they had no time to react. Yurin split two more who were struggling to assist their comrades into their heavy chain mail. He didn’t think the armor would do them much good; heavy metal slows a man. Yurin wore nothing but leather straps to fasten his weapons.

  A burly man gave a fight using a large shield to slap at Yurin’s body. Yurin spun quickly and severed both feet from under the man, leaving him screaming on the ground. The arrows started to zip past him, and he ducked under a structure. Another impact of fire on wood reverberated in Yurin’s chest as it exploded.

  More commands were given and Yurin found his target; a small man with an axe much like Yurin’s, giving orders from above. The man was thickly bearded and carried short swords on his back. One large scar-laced across his face from ear to chin as he shouted. The man turned to see Yurin crouching behind a barrel where the archers couldn’t reach.

  “Watch the perimeter,” the commander shouted as he jumped off the platform.

  The man landed with a thud and spun the handle of the axe in his hand, watching the blade rotate beside his head. The commander smiled, and Yurin did his best to reflect it back at him.

  Finally, Yurin thought, A man worth facing in this realm.

  Swinging the axe made Yurin feel free. The fighter’s use of the axe was just as swift as Yurin’s. The wood handles clacked as they collided and items were knocked to the side in the struggle. The commander was slightly stronger than Yurin and his blows caused the Fire Realm Veteran to retreat to keep his footing. Even though Yurin was keeping pace with the Earth Realm warrior, he felt as if the commander was holding back. One of the commander's hands released an axe and swiftly pulled a blade from his back. Yurin twisted his own axe to bring up the handle just in time to block the tiny blade.

  The commander let out a laugh as Yurin’s axe clattered into the wall. The second blade was freed, and now Yurin was struggling to keep up. He couldn’t find the opportunity to move on the offensive. In a split second his mind snapped to an ideal that he had been taught by King Elric himself: if you cannot find an opportunity, make one.

  Yurin twisted leaving himself open to a glancing blow, something that would seem a natural mistake. The commander’s blade slic
ed Yurin’s bicep as it passed. The commander let out a cheer just before Yurin’s axe slammed tip first into the man’s chest. The blade of his axe pierced both lungs and sunk deeper when he was pushed to the ground. Yurin pulled back his weapon, cringing only slightly at the sucking sound it made when he freed it from the man’s body.

  He heard a laugh and looked up to see the rest of his men standing above the fallen soldier’s bodies that laid still. Yurin smiled to them and hefted his axe to his shoulder. He felt a twinge of pain but did not show it to his men. He was use to pain, and his body was littered with the scars to prove it. Looking over his shoulder, he knew he had gained another.

  Chapter 7 - Releasing Souls

  Tucked in out of sight, Sahera crouched in an alley around the corner from the worst bar in town. She huddled in a manure-smeared cloak as she observed through the eyes of a soulless inside. She was still unsure if she wanted to go through with this or not. At some point, She knew she would have to begin raising her army if she was going to kill, Dylan but dreaded the day. She knew from the moment of the first kill it would change her inside.

  Through the soulless’ eyes she ordered another round of ale. She knew his eyes would be glassy while she controlled him, but patrons with glassy eyes were nothing new to the establishment. Serving ale well into the night, this inn had developed a reputation for attracting the worst kind of scum the world had to offer. Sahera had to see for herself what kind of people they were before she consumed them.

  She had lost count of how many times four of the twelve occupants had let their hands wander onto the serving wench. The poor girl, as pretty as she was, did not stand a chance at keeping them at bay. She was scrawny at best but had a pretty face which attracted weak and desperate men. Sahera had seen the girl wipe away a tear twice during the night after being pulled into a patron’s lap.

  The soulless had sat there in the bar for far too long to go unnoticed. Sahera didn’t know what she was waiting for now. She had seen enough of everyone in the bar to know they were wretched and deserved to be stripped of their souls. Still, she held back, waiting for the nervous shaking to stop.

  It had been a long time since she had stripped a person of their soul. The last decade she had spent in Humbridge, she only claimed the souls that died of natural causes. The process still felt the same afterward, but she wasn’t taking their life. The killing of a person was what consumed a part of the soul wizard’s soul.

  During her time fasting from murder she had managed to find peace within herself. She had remembered a time before she had begun killing for souls. It was a simple life just like any other, then the Dark Master came. She was lined up with the rest of her town being slaughtered one by one until her father courageously slipped his bonds and grabbed a rock. Kissing them both on the head, he then killed her mother with a rock to the head. He did it so that his wife would not have to endure a death at the hands of the evil being. Sahera was sure he thought it would save his wife from becoming soulless.

  He was wrong, and before her father could kill her, he was snatched and brought to the front of the line. Sahera distinctly remembered her father being drug away because she watched through her mother’s dead glassy eyes. Then, still looking through her mother's eyes, she begged for the Dark Master to spare her. She felt like she was willing her mother to stand up and say these things, but in reality, she felt like she controlled the dead body. She cried out anyway until she saw her own body through her mother’s eyes. At that moment the world faded, and Sahera and her mother’s bodies collapsed.

  When she woke, she was caged and slowly taught about her ability. The learning was easy at first; to claim a soul, you must simply take the life of someone that begged to live. She was shown ways to torture those ready to lose their lives so that they begged for release. Day by day she was forced to watch innocent people killed. She was left holding the magical reigns to the many that were killed in front of her. Her soulless were caged and carted away, and she was left to watch more people being slain. The amassing soulless she acquired were used to work for her and provide for her meals and clean her cage.

  Time passed, and with every death, she became more hardened to the violence. She began to enjoy watching people die. With each soul consumed the less of herself she recognized. Sahera began to cheer when men resisted the urge to beg for death. She relished in watching them be burnt alive, or slowly eaten by ants. She lost herself in the teachings of her new master.

  Sahera began to beg for more but was separated from the killings the more she showed enjoyment. She found herself in a dungeon. The Dark Master would come and talk to her, caress her hair, feed her as if she was nothing more than a pet. Kept in the dark for a month except for her time with her master, Sahera was finally given an opportunity. A single length of rope was placed in her cell. Moments later she could hear a woman screaming as she was dragged down the hallway.

  Sahera watched a torchlight flood into the cell causing her to shy away from the door. She could see shadows moving outside and an object being thrust into her cell. When the door shut only a tiny bit of light remained through the cracks in the door.

  The master’s voice spoke from the other side, “My child, it is your turn to be reborn.”

  Sahera heard the whimpers of another human in the dark. Her eyes adjusted and she could see the frail starved woman lying amongst the straw. The woman called out to her for help but Sahera heard none of it, she had been bred to kill. Smiling, Sahera wrapped the rope around the weak woman’s neck and waited to absorb her soul. When she felt it, she relaxed and let out the breath she was holding. The woman’s body rose and went to do Sahara's command.

  “Good, you and your servant will get cleaned up and join me for dinner,” The master’s voice said from the now open cell door.

  Sahera did as she was told and for the next year, she was taught to control her lust for death. The Dark Master protected her and gave her living servants to test her willingness to keep them alive as he commanded. Years went by, and Sahera was joined by two others at the master’s table. Both of the men were like her; eyes black from consuming souls and hungry for death. Sahera was often brought in to teach the men to control themselves. Her master would brag on her as he stroked her hair that she was the perfect student.

  Those men hated her because she was better at controlling herself than them. Sahera was eventually sent to the Elemental Realms with all of her soulless servants. The two men followed shortly after and they were all given the mission to conquer the land for their master. Sahera did as she was told and laid the groundwork for the Dark Master to conquer. She watched through the eyes of the soulless as they snatched their victims in the night to join her ranks. One by one towns fell, and their casualties became her army. She was an empress without a name.

  Then the master’s two men landed and pushed forward across the land, killing everyone in their wake. Sahera told them they need to go slow, but they did not listen to her. They wasted the soulless by using them in battle instead of attempting to gather more. Eventually, the Elder Wizards struck back, cleansing the land of the soulless. Towns were burned and turned over in great quakes. Lightning arced through the Dark Army like a sewing needle through cloth.

  Sahera tried to hold it together using her force to bolster the others, but it didn’t work. Still living on the coast and in hiding from the Elder Wizards, she had lost her access to the living. She gathered what resources she had and disappeared into the swamplands. She watched as her servants were slain and burned by a forgotten civilization in the swamp. With the destruction of her soulless, it returned something that she did not know she had missed; her own soul.

  Hiding amongst the bugs and creatures of muck she bid her time to return to her master. As each day faded into another so did her desire to return. Civilizations grew, and she melded into their ranks and resisted the urge to kill and consume. With time she found it easier to resist the urge and became the way she was before all the killing.


  Over the next thousand years, she had done her best to refrain from killing but always managed to keep a couple soulless around. She siphoned their health and age, keeping herself young and beautiful until she met Dylan.

  In the wet alleyway, the thought of her husband brought her back to reality. A cold draft ran down her spine as she adjusted her legs underneath her. The soulless ordered another mug of ale to keep it topped off. A guard patrol walked past ignoring her, probably because of the manure she had rubbed on the outer cloak.

  She waited until the patrol was a few streets away and barely visible in the torchlight they carried. She shed the outer cloak and checked her own for placement of her weapons. Looking down at her black dress she knew the moment she stepped into the bar all eyes would be on her. At first, their gaze would be pleasant and hungry for her, but soon after terror would follow. Moving to the front of the building her hand stopped on the door handle.

  She promised herself again to take only the vilest. She would keep her soul this time by sparing the pure and innocent for the evil inside her.

  After commanding the soulless slave to throw his mug against the wall, she pushed open the door and slipped inside without much notice. Before a commotion could happen, she went to work. In one hand a needle, in the other, a bottle of poison. She began sticking the men slumped over the bar. It only took a few seconds for their bodies to go limp before she moved on to the men nearest the door. She locked eyes with a man as she rounded a table, sticking her needle in the rest of the table’s occupants.

  Her smile distracted the drunk men from her working hands. Dip, stick, dip, stick, over and over until the bar was full of incapacitated people. Sahera listened to the quiet and reminded herself to only take the men not worthy of living. She heard a whimper from behind the bar. Looking around she couldn’t find the young bar wench. She smiled. Perhaps the girl would want some retribution from the man that made her cry.