The Coming Of The Light (Guardian Series)

by JW Baccaro

  "Abaddon is my master, but never have I enjoyed the slaughter he pours out on those who sometimes deserve less. Yet my thoughts are meaningless, a waste of time. Power is my greatest lust; therefore I remain faithful to him, who is the ultimate power." He took a step toward him, hardening his gaze. "I did not come here to exchange wits with you, King of Asgoth. Among the castle now are two soldiers from Valnar’s Tower."

  "Ah, Lord Valnar brings some news. Tell me, who among the Light dares tamper with Asgoth now, another sect of Elves?"

  “Valnar is dead.”

  His eyes widened. “…Dead?”

  “His Throne has been vanquished, army crushed, and the tower now rests in pieces at the bottom of the river.”

  “Whom could have accomplished such acts?”

  “The Bugbears tell me it was the Elves of Ashhaven, and a few other ‘Wizard-like’ beings, with wild changing hair.”

  “Wild changing hair? Hmm…" He clenched his fists. "Nasharins! Why, I bet they’re the same ones we battled at Zithel. Talvenya mentioned their names. Nayland and—Mirabel, yes Mirabel the Great.”

  Levieth seemed startled at those words. “Mirabel the Great?”

  “Nothing to worry about, just a fool made popular for petty acts.”

  “I know who he is but last I heard Mirabel was dead, died a century ago, by the hands of my son. If that was just rumor and this is the Mirabel of legend, well I would say you have plenty to worry about King.”

  “With all due respect my lord my powers have ascended beyond any Nasharin. And I possess the Soul Crusher. If I come face to face with him, he will just be another dead Nasharin, like the one at Zithel.”

  While Levieth did have confidence in Tanarokai…for he himself had seen the King destroy many master warriors, Nasharins included…He still grew cautious. No stranger he was to the legend of Mirabel, or his power. It now clicked about Darshun Luthais, the greatest Nasharin Levieth ever witnessed, was the son of Mirabel Luthais, therefore explaining Darshun’s mighty skills.

  “Anyhow,” Tanarokai continued, “What needs to be done? It is obvious the Elves destroyed Valnar in order to kill the Eye. They mean to attack Asgoth.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “No other reason stands logical. Does Abaddon know about this?”

  “Not yet. And I leave for Syngothra tomorrow. Therefore, I expect you to make sure this threat does not affect our lord’s plans for Saruinkai.”

  “Never. Whatever these foolish Elves and petty Nasharins intend to do, I shall meet them in the middle. Ha, they think they will creep up on me? I’ll gather all my forces, every station and stronghold and burn the entire eastern forest, down to the last tree of Ashhaven. They want a war, they have got one!”

  “The whole ordeal may be an attempt to invade Syngothra.”

  “Well as you know, no one can enter the Dark Land unless they pass through my kingdom. Melgothris guards the west. Bitter wastelands flood the east. Only by me they must go. And as Lord Abaddon commanded, I shall let none pass. They will face the Soul Crusher; they will face fire, wrath and steel. Nothing gets held back, not this time. Asgoth will unleash its strength in full. Disposing Ashhaven is something I should have done long, long ago.”

  "Very well. Go and do as you say.” Levieth opened the door to exit. "One last thing, you will no longer have a use for the slaves kept here, exterminate them, all of them. This comes by Abaddon's command."

  "Of course my lord," he answered while grinning. “My lord, I have a request.”

  “Speak it Tanarokai,” Levieth said, never turning around to face him.

  “I want Talvenya…dead. Her power has faded, her heart changed. No longer does she support the Dark, not like in the past. I have seen this all before, usually from the female species. Once they get a taste for ‘mercy’ or ‘righteousness’ they can only move forward, favoring that ‘motherly’ instinct. She’s a liability. Were she to return to the mistress I once knew, there is no telling what other fallacies she might commit, the loose canon she is. I do not want any mistakes this time.”

  “So be it, dispose of her. I care not. Though beware, she is after all a master of sorcery, equal to your own skills.”

  “I promise it shall be fairly easy.”

  “Thought it out already, I see?”

  “Many nights now. In fact I have an assassin, one she would never suspect, awaiting my command.”

  “Very well.”

  “Once this is accomplished, may I choose a new Queen?”

  Glancing back to him his elderly face unreadable, Levieth ignored the question. “Concentrate on the Elves. Finish them, then await Abaddon’s calling.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  The High Wizard left, shutting the door behind him.

  Your fate awaits Talvenya, he thought with a crude smile. I only wish I could be there to see the look on your face as my assassin strikes you down. What a vengeance it shall be for him, and what a pleasure it shall be for I, to finally be rid of this harlot leading towards the Light. Yes my love, sleep well tonight, it shall be your last.

  * * *

  Nestled under a silver willow tree beside the river slept a restless Queen Talvenya. Many nights she’d spent here, pondering for meaning, the meaning of life—her life. Now childless, despised by her companion Tanarokai, humiliated and threatened by Abaddon, what was there to live for? Power didn’t matter anymore. It lost its taste. Desperately, she wanted to hold a child in her arms, believe him to be Sicarius, never cease to let go. But there were no children except slaves, whose parents also despised her, and for good reason. While it’d been true she ended the ill treatment of slaves, her past actions against them remained ever-present within their minds.

  To slay a creature—Human or non-Human—once excited her, to see them dead at her feet, killed by her hand. She wouldn’t even allow poor helpless worms simply trying to get out of the wet ground during a rainstorm to cross her path, she would stomp them on sight, crushing the innocent creatures to mush under her boots—smiling cruelly at the same time. Now the thought of every life she’d taken, down to even the worms, sickened her spirit. There must have been hundreds—thousands! How could one so delight in the taking of a life cold-bloodedly? A right given to no one! What was happening to her? Why this sudden change of heart?

  The dreams of Darshun continued also. In them, he seemed kind and heartwarming, a good lover. He gave her respect and loyalty—all traits he performed in reality. In love they were, having a son. Then she would awake—and so would her anger. There’d be no forgetting how Darshun killed Sicarius. Were he alive today, his life would be the last she’d take pleasure in ending, forcing him to beg at her feet before splitting him in two. Then this would be another thing—power. Strangely, she felt something within knocking, moving, trembling to break out, a hidden ability preparing to rise. It made no sense. For so long, she’d neglected practicing the Blackened Arts, honestly wanting nothing to do with them any longer. If only she could remain asleep, forever asleep, nestled under the tree, drifting away with the currents. But the night moved on, and so did her dreams…

  Tonight it was no different…In a meadow she stood, gazing at oceans of grass, speckled with pretty yellow, pink, red, purple and blue flowers. She danced around happily, picking the flowers until she’d collected one of each color. Stuffing them against her nose, the smells were wondrous, reminding her of long long ago, as a little girl dwelling in a place similar, holding a hand of one she called ‘father’ whose name she’d nearly forgotten until this dream, Athanasius. To her surprise, the elvish lord of Ashhaven walked the meadow too, having a little girl with him, holding her hand! Talvenya remained silent, wondering if hallucination played the role, because they were only ten or twelve feet away, unaware of her presence. Though, are not all dreams hallucinations?

  They seemed to have stumbled upon an animal crying out in pain, a brown bear having a large wound in her belly and a broken hind leg. None could tell how it happened, perhaps f
rom a fight with another bear, perhaps from a heartless heathen taking pleasure in harming an animal, or maybe it broke free from a trap. Whatever the case, she seemed unwell and would not last the night, this seemed certain. The little girl began picking as many of the flowers as she could, along with a bundle of grass, then cupped them together into her palms. A white light shone from her hands, followed by a rising mist. When she opened her hands, mysteriously there was now only one flower, beautifully patterned by the colors of the others. Pulling off a petal, she asked the elder to hold the flower, then crushed the petal, causing oils to spread over her hand and knelt down to the poor moaning bear. “Please, be calm my sister,” she soothed in a most sweet and humble voice.

  The bear gazed into her eyes then rested its head in the grass.

  The little girl touched the wound her oily hand shining brightly and before Talvenya’s very eyes the wound disappeared. Next, she touched the swelled broken leg.

  After a second or two, the bear moved it freely and began licking the little girl’s face like a dog except with a tongue three times as big, having twice the amount of drool.

  Giggling, she patted its head then the bear stood up on its hind legs towering over the child and elder. So awesome was this creature the child could no longer resist. As best she could with her little arms, she set them along its tubby belly giving it a tight hug, stuffing her face into the beautiful brown fur, clinging like a cub.

  When the bear felt this was enough it nodded, turned around and began to venture north.

  “What a wondrous creature,” the girl cheered. “I love her!”

  The elder smiled and handed her the ‘miracle flower’ she’d created.

  “No father, you keep it. Plant it by home. More like that will grow. We will use them for the people when sick.”

  “As you wish, Aurora my daughter. Though, I do not think the potent will be as strong unless you are there to transpire it.” He set her over his shoulders and joyfully they ventured across the remainder of the meadow, passing directly by Talvenya herself, never shifting an eye.

  She however, stood bewildered. “I remember this moment. Long has it been forgotten, but now I remember. That little girl was—was—?”

  “You,” came a female voice.

  Quickly Talvenya turned aside.

  A lady in shining white garments stood there, with long dark hair blowing wildly in a pleasant breeze, and ice blue eyes—mesmerizing beyond imagination.

  She backed up, unsure whether this ‘Goddess’ was there to harm her.

  “Have no fear, I won’t hurt you.”

  “Who—what are you?”

  “One who has looked into your past and knows that your heart is not as black as you think.”

  “My—past?”

  “Yes, do you not recall dwelling among Ashhaven, under the care of the Elves? Can you not remember the love Lord Athanasius showed you or the mercy you gave to creatures like that bear? In those days, the simple things of life were your most wondrous fascination, before the Dark took you—”

  “I am of the Dark, woman. What little memory of Ashhaven dwelling in my mind is destruction, not peace. The true Elves of the woodlands, the Samaeltho, rescued me from that place. They taught me how to kill, how to maim, to survive and to take what is rightfully the Dark’s—”

  “They took your heart, your dignity and conscious, reforming an innocent child into a selfish beast like them, heathens who prowl the night, seeking to destroy what this world holds sacred, and all for their own gain. There is no denying the course of actions they performed against you to break your spirit.”

  Talvenya fell silent, seeming to recall what happened. In truth she did forget, only now was the horror returning, but she would not stand it. “Lies! What they did made me whom I am today, the Queen of Darkness, the Goddess of earth. Had they been kind to me, like the weaklings of Ashhaven, never would I have known such strength.”

  “Never would you be carrying a burden of sorrow either, or dwelling in a world of emptiness, as you are now, having restless nights. To kill is far easier than to let live or show mercy. Hate tears creatures apart, divides them.”

  “What are you talking about? The Light is divided beyond all.”

  “Precisely, and the reason is because of the hate many ancestors held toward others who differed. In some eyes the Centaurs set themselves above all others in beauty, honor and pride. The Elves became too pious. Dwarves abandoned the upper world for riches below. Wizards and Humanity lusted after power, and above the rest…The Nasharins—for merely being an ‘accursed’ race—were hated by all, killed on sight.”

  “Exactly, while the Dark remains united,” Talvenya argued, feeling triumphant as though she’d ‘won’ the argument.

  “The only reason the Dark stands ‘united’ is because of the spell the Demon Lord Abaddon continually omits with his Dark Crystal, keeping all his minions bound for his command. Without it, he knows full well each clan of darkness would war with each other as they always have. Seldom, do they unite unless it is to wage war against a country for land, or for something they desire, only to fight each other off when it is won. Love, however, cherishes life and fights to keep the world turning so creatures may be free, and will do so until no end, until every last soldier is gone. There isn’t anything stronger than that. Even now, those who used to be divided among the Light are being brought together. The movement is strong, one has arrived that will make all things right. You could join too. Think about it, if you did belong to the Dark, would you be having the kind of thoughts you are having now? Would you hate your lord Abaddon and everything the Dark teaches?”

  “No, I am of the Dark, not the Light! Take your vain speeches and sentimental words elsewhere before I turn you to stone.”

  Smiling, the lady walked closer to her, so close Talvenya knew she wasn’t afraid of her threat. “Dearest Ceutaiche, you have no power here.”

  Stunned, Talvenya sank to the ground. Something in the name ‘Ceutache’ sent chills down her spine. “Why did you call me that?”

  “It is time you learn of your true heritage.”

  In the mere blinking of an eye, Talvenya and the lady suddenly stood among another setting, another place in time. Near the sea stood a magnificent white stone castle possessing twelve great square levels. Additional wood and brick houses were stationed around the castle along with a monastery where many monks, hooded and cloaked, walked in and out. Peasants were at work in the fields, children played in the yards; soldiers stood upon the watchtowers, gazing out at sea or the woodlands. All seemed mundane.

  “A typical kingdom,” Talvenya scoffed. “Why are you showing me this? To bore me?”

  Just then, came screams of what sounded like a woman in labor. Just as Talvenya wished to go to her, being a former mother in all, understanding the pain and then joy of seeing your creation, she and the lady suddenly appeared in the same room, a place among the fifth level of the castle. Talvenya stood by the window, looking outside at the spot she’d been standing prior, then glanced at the lady in white, bewildered. “What are you?”

  But no answer came only more cries from the woman in labor.

  Talvenya wanted to rush over and help yet, she realized this could be either a memory from the past, or some sort of trickery, therefore decided to ride it out and watch.

  Midwives were lending a hand, helping the lady remain on her feet in a squatting position, and holding up the head of the infant as it gradually came out of the womb. A man was present, a King, evident by his strange white crown, having six half-arches—each possessing a different colored stone or gem in the center. One gold, another silver, red, yellow, orange and green—the arches linking the base of the crown to a shining blue globe atop. What these strange colors for a crown meant she had no idea, even thought it silly. He wore a black surcote over a black and white vee tunic.

  The child-barer obviously his Queen. After a great deal more of pushing and screaming the child was born, a little
girl. The mother smiled immediately, looking upon her daughter and the midwives handed her over, setting the babe in the Queen’s arms. “She’s finally here my King, the one who may save Cyteria from the cults, Ceutaiche.”

  The name again, “Ceutaiche…” Which the lady called Talvenya earlier. “You do not mean to say this little girl is—is me?” she asked.

  The lady in white nodded.

  Talvenya almost collapsed to her knees.

  Then time passed as Talvenya grew knowledgeable about these Cyterians, listening to their conversations. They were wise, humble and respectful. They also were in the middle of a crisis. Recently, many religious cults were flooding the land, dangerously religious. No one knew exactly where they came from, only that their message is for the entire world to renounce their beliefs and instead worship the Tree of Morgalia, a dark entity said to have unimaginable power. War had been waged on those who declined, spilling blood down to the last woman and child, followed by the burning of villages, which the cults called ‘the cleansing.’ Those who converted joined the movement. However, Cyteria clearly spoke out against such nonsense harsher than any, and now the Morgalia cult were bringing war to them.

  At one point, Talvenya asked the lady in white where this land dwelled, discovering it was many thousands of miles across the Great Sea, far far away from Asgoth, Syngothra, Ashhaven, etc. A land where humans practiced White Magic, mainly Cyteria, and according to the lady, many creatures other than Elves or what she would consider as ‘common’ roamed the land, creatures that would be taken as myth to some back across sea. But Humans occupied Cyteria, appearing well armed and strong.

  A moment later, Talvenya witnessed this for herself as the lady suddenly took them five months into the future, in the middle of a war.

  Thousands upon thousands of people among the Morgalia cult, wielding axes and swords, invaded the city. The fighting became ferocious; heads flung, blood splattered, bodies falling like rain, dismemberment everywhere, both sides suffering much. The onslaught continued throughout the night with the Morgalians setting the homes and monastery on fire.