Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  “Where’s Amysta? Why isn’t she here?” Erik croaked, head turning towards him, his face strained.

  “My Lord?” he asked, surging to his feet. He went quickly to the King’s side and sat on the bed next to him. “Is it really you?”

  There was the low rumble of a chuckle. “Who else would it be? Where’s my wife? What happened?” Revan placed a hand over the King’s out of relief, and the odd gesture was not lost on his old friend. “What is it? Did something happen to her?”

  Erik was struggling to sit up in bed and Revan didn’t have to force the smile that stretched across his face. “Not that I know of, Sire. You got sick and we were forced to bring you back to your chambers. Everyone was ready to depart, so she got her armor and led the men west after your daughter.”

  “And you let her go?” the King asked in a groan.

  “Do you think I could’ve stopped her?” he returned with a chuckle. It felt good to talk to his King again, a feeling that he wasn’t sure would ever return. “Sire, are you aware of what’s going on?”

  “You mean that my daughter’s been kidnapped and I’m supposed to be out there right now hunting them down? But instead, I’m here in bed and my back feels like I’ve been in one position way too long? How long was I out?” Erik asked, wiping his arm across his eyes.

  “Almost a week, Sire,” he told the other man, and saw the confusion on his face. “Listen, something happened when we were talking. Do you have any recollection of that?”

  Erik’s eyes shifted to the side as he tried to recall everything that had happened before blacking out. It was a struggle for him, but he saw a flash of pain cross the King’s face and knew that he was slowly starting to remember.

  “You were talking about some mage and a sword. I don’t recall what else, just that I had a flood of these nightmares that’d been plaguing me rush through my head. Then only black,” Erik told him somberly, fingers massaging his temple. “I don’t understand what happened.”

  He spoke slowly, trying to keep his voice even as he explained to his sovereign everything that had happened and what he suspected was the cause. As Erik listened with widening eyes, he saw the grief and confusion intensify, and hoped he wasn’t making matters worse.

  “Are you saying that I woke up just a bit ago, but it wasn’t me?” the King pushed, trying to figure out if he was being lied to and not sure of the purpose if he was.

  “Yes, Sire,” he nodded.

  Jarel entered the room behind him with a tray and quickly came to the bedside upon seeing his King awake and alert.

  “What’s with the soup?” Erik asked the excited aide.

  Jarel chuckled and quickly apologized, looking to Revan, who nodded in return. The aide rushed from the room to get something solid for the King to eat and hope began to fill Revan’s heart. Maybe they’d dodged an arrow after all.

  When he turned back to look at his revived friend, he paused at the change that had come over the other elf’s face and his hope quickly vanished.

  “Is this Merlin’s tonic?”

  II

  They had taken a more southern route as they made their way back to Forlorn, the Queen insisting that they avoid the villages they’d passed on their first journey through. Pendoran had wanted to take the more direct approach, but she was unwavering in her determination to not see those tragic ruins again.

  As they set out towards the rising sun, she battled with grief over the loss of her daughter. For surely, there was no way she’d ever see her again. How would she explain to her husband that she failed? She grieved enough already without seeing the pained look of guilt on her husband’s face. He would blame himself for not going himself, despite the sudden illness that had afflicted him. Could he have done better?

  She shook her head and tried to clear the questions away. It was doing her more harm than good and she had to focus on just putting one foot in front of another, or hoof in this case. Lost in thought, she let the sudden showers soothe her hot skin, the raging storm overhead reflecting her dispirited soul.

  “Halt!” Pendoran suddenly commanded to her right and she jerked out of her grief and looked widely at the world around her.

  The other knights suddenly came to a stop and her eyes searched the horizon, trying to spy what had caused her companion’s sudden need to stop their trek forward.

  Gusts of smoke billowed on the horizon and suddenly she knew that she was witnessing the death of another village. All the grief that had been filling her was now pushed down by sudden rage. The loss of life, the way these people had died, had angered her to the core, and now it rose unchecked as she kicked her horse forward and charged ahead.

  “My Queen!” Pendoran suddenly called in panic, but she ignored it. She couldn’t help her daughter, she’d be damned if she’d let these people die as well.

  She heard the thunder of hooves behind her, but her mount was swiftly keeping her ahead of their chase. Reaching for her waist, she withdrew her sword, ready to meet whatever danger lay ahead head on.

  The roaring infernal slowly came into view and she once again saw the slain livestock and farmlands around her. It was happening again! Cries of stricken peasants pierced the air and with a violent scream, a winged creature burst from the flames and hovered over the billowing smoke. Her eyes traced it and lingered on the horror that emerged above.

  A very large harpy was soaring over the village with bright silver feathers and orange tinted skin. Large talons gripped at the air as it dove towards the ground in search of new prey. Rising from the smoke moments later, it held a flailing human within its scaled monstrous talons. Before her eyes, she watched as the body suddenly shriveled into nothing but bone and a shriek of pleasure erupted from the evil creature gripping it. Then the talons let it go and the wings once more pumped and soared looking for another victim to attack.

  With a fierce battle cry, she kicked her horse faster, and challenged the hideous creature. She watched as the harpy’s head turned in her direction and saw the banking of its wings to alter its direction towards her.

  She was not thinking, she was reacting, and when the vile thing dove at her, she leapt from her horse and flung herself straight at it. In midair, she twisted and swung her sword in a graceful arc, intending to sever the harpy’s head. Yet the metal only bounced against the creature’s armor and her body impacted it immediately after. Large talons tried to grip her as she swung free, once again twisting and hacking at its feet. Her sword arced around and sliced through one of the mighty talons, black blood spilling forth as both she and the severed foot fell to the ground below.

  She impacted the dirt and felt her armor press heavily upon her back. Not allowing herself to acknowledge the pain she felt, she leapt to her feet, eyes searching the sky.

  The rest of her knights had caught up with her now and had dismounted to form a protective ring around their Queen.

  “That was awfully foolish, Majesty,” Pendoran said as his eyes traced the clouds overhead.

  “Glad you approved,” she muttered, as something caught her eye and she jerked her body to the right.

  It was too late as the harpy had latched itself onto one of the knights and yanked him into the sky. The one remaining foot shook its prey and the harpy screamed with delight. The elven warrior lost his weapon with the ferociousness of the harpy’s attack and immediately broke into a loud scream as his body shriveled up within his armor. Drained of his life, the lifeless body was flung directly at them.

  She flipped in a leap backwards and barely missed getting hit. One of her men wasn’t as lucky as the plated body impacted with tremendous force, crushing the knight with a loud crunch. She leapt forward to take another swipe at the descending villainous bitch, but was just out of reach when yet another elven knight was taken from them and eaten. For that was what this amounted too. This monstrosity was feeding off the life force of others, its hunger never sated. How many had fallen to this evil creature’s never ending appetite?

  Pen
doran dodged the incoming corpse and knelt there, head bowed. What was he doing?

  Seeing easy prey, their adversary dove straight for the kneeling knight and Amysta forced herself forward once more, refusing to let her have any more of her men to feast on. Exertion racking her bones, she pushed her body to its limit, and yet she still feared she’d be too late. She was right under the descending harpy and felt dread when she realized who’d get to Pendoran first.

  At the last second, the elven knight rolled to his side, the talon grasping the area his body had just been occupying, the harpy screaming in rage. Then he cupped his hand and looked to his swiftly approaching Queen. Understanding dawned and she leapt towards him, landed on his hand, and felt the momentum of her leap get boosted as the elf pushed her upward with all his strength.

  She soared in the air at the slowly ascending harpy and impacted the creature on its back. Gripping it at the shoulder with everything she had, she brought her sword arm down at the joint where the wing joined its body, and sliced the muscle cleanly in two.

  The loudest screech she’d ever heard issued forth from the spinning creature and the force of the swing flung her free of the harpy’s body. For a moment, she hung suspended in mid-air, a grim satisfaction falling over her when she realized that her enemy was going down.

  Then it dawned on her that she was as well.

  She fell into the arms of one of her knights, driving them both to the ground, the breath forced out of her in a painful grunt. The elf beneath groaned with the impact and they lay there for a moment, trying to catch their breaths. The other sixteen knights had moved towards the downed harpy twenty yards to her left, and she watched a wing thrust into the sky as it tried to right itself.

  She rolled over and pushed herself to her feet, looking at the knight that had broken her fall. Pendoran looked up at her with a smirk on his face. “Can you imagine the wrath I’d get from your husband had I missed?” Then the elf chuckled.

  She couldn’t help but smile, but the sudden screams of pain from the other knights quickly wiped it away. Their foe was down, but not out.

  Pendoran raged to his feet and joined her as they darted towards the rest of their men.

  The harpy was swinging her one good wing around, knocking her attackers back, her armor sufficiently protecting her from their swords. Beneath her feet lay two more shrunken corpses and the fury within Amysta cried for vengeance.

  Reaching for the dagger at her belt, she held it by the blade and with a quick thrust of her arm, let it soar towards the screaming monstrosity. Faster than her eye could follow it nailed the beast directly in the right eye and the earth trembled with the agony let loose by her injured foe. Temporarily, it ducked its head, reflexively reaching with a wing to swipe the dagger loose.

  Pendoran took advantage by sweeping through the creature’s blind spot to dodge behind it, then with an inhuman leap, landed with his feet around the harpy’s neck. With a quick thrust of his sword, he brought it squarely through the harpy’s head, driving his sword through its skull and down through its jaws.

  As he did so, his body began to thin, his face to shrink, and Amysta screamed in rage as she realized what was happening. Weakened, Pendoran let go of his sword and fell to the ground with a loud crunch.

  The other elves roared with fury and surged forward towards their fallen commander. Attacking the beast with everything they had. Multiple weapons pierced its torso, driving the flailing harpy to the ground. Steel flashed in arcs, hacking, as she dodged behind the slowly beating wing and leapt to Pendoran’s side.

  He was still breathing, but it was with short quick gasps.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to catch you,” she whispered, a tear streaming down her cheek.

  Pendoran’s eyes met hers. “I’m not dead yet,” he whispered back, a cough shaking his torso. His armor was loose upon his thin frame and she felt despair in her heart.

  The shrieks suddenly cut off and she knew that the beast was finally dead; its evil forever silenced.

  Several knights rushed to her side as she cradled their commander’s head. “Water,” she commanded one of the men, her hands removing Pendoran’s helm and revealing the damage that had been done. He glared up at her, as if trying to speak, but she shook her head and shushed him.

  Screams could still be heard rising from the burning village, but she couldn’t turn away from her fallen friend’s sunken eyes. “Leave me water and some food, then go see what you can do for those villagers,” she commanded a shadow, not looking up to see who it was.

  They complied quickly, their footfalls trailing off as they ran to assist the survivors of the harpy’s attack.

  She ignored it all, and slowly poured some water into Pendoran’s cracked lips.

  “I’m sorry,” she told the fallen elf.

  Pendoran gulped down the water, then cleared his throat. “Like I said, I’m not dead yet.”

  “I should’ve listened to you,” she lamented, her anger now gone, leaving only her grief to wrestle with once more.

  The knight’s chest vibrated and she realized he was laughing. “Now, that would be a first, wouldn’t it?”

  She shook her head, not able to hide her smile. “Seriously? You’ve got jokes?”

  Pendoran’s arm moved towards one of the bags and his gauntlet slid free, as if three times too large for the hand that had been in it. His shrunken fingers weakly patted the ground and she looked at him in confusion.

  “What are you doing?” she shook her head, another tear falling over her forced smile.

  “I’m hungry,” the knight answered simply, his fingers landing on one of the pouches of food and weakly pawing at it.

  She didn’t know if he was going to live or die, he was emaciated, barely hanging on, but if he felt well enough to eat, she would make sure that he did so; she owed him that much at least.

  III

  His sword hacked at every goblin that came in reach, his shield protecting him from the occasional arrow shot his way. Guardians surrounded him, striving to keep their King protected, yet there were just too many for them to keep them all at bay. He’d been thrown from his mount not long after the battle began, and had been fighting his way slowly forward ever since. A sneering face leered at him from the right and he quickly side-stepped and brought his shield down on the creature’s exposed neck. With a thrust of his sword, he impaled its skull, then pushed forward once more.

  All he could see and hear was the battle immediately around him. He had no idea what the other forces were doing, only that the horn to signal retreat hadn’t been blown yet; so, he fought on.

  A line of orcs thundered into view around a flaming tent and his soldiers instantly engaged them. He slew another goblin as he sidestepped and arced his sword around to decapitate another. A sword slammed into his shield, knocking him a few paces back, but one of his Guardians leapt forward and dispatched his attacker for him.

  “You alright, Sire?” Windel huffed, straightening up.

  “Oh, just perfect,” he smiled at the former Guardian, as he swept his sword against another goblin’s legs, forcing it to the ground. Windel finished it off with a thrust of his own.

  A bright flash of light caught his eye. He looked to the right and saw Serix holding a creature’s head, the goblin skull melting underneath his grasp.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am he’s on our side,” he blurted as he dodged another lunge and killed the creature stupid enough to miss.

  Windel chuckled as he parried and slew one of his own. “You’re telling me.”

  A horn blew in the distance and he listened to hear how many beats it made. A charge had been ordered, but who’s?

  He kept pushing forward and dodged as a fireball swept from his right and plowed into the orcs charging his way. With a big blast of flame, the ground shook as the dirt exploded into the air, throwing the orcs back. His men were on them instantly, hacking the fallen enemy to pieces.

  Serix came to his side, arm
reaching forward and pushing another attacker away with some invisible force. “You told me that before I did anything I had to ask, right?”

  He was busy dispatching another foe, kicking it with his metaled knee in the stomach, then breaking its neck with the butt of his sword. The corpse fell to the ground and he took a moment to glance at the mage. “You seriously want to do that again? Right now?”

  The mage laughed in return.

  He shook his head. He could understand a lot of things, but never the mind of a magician. He twisted around and cleaved a goblin across its neck. “You do what you have too, I’ve got a war to win,” he told the mage, as he drove forward once more into another oncoming rush of the enemy.

  Five Guardians leapt before him, blocking his view, as a charge was made against their position. Swords swung, metal bashed, and he leapt to the left side to catch one that had been trying to flank them. Slicing the attacker’s arm free, he slammed his shield into the goblin’s skull, the body crumbling at his feet.

  Then the fighting around them suddenly stopped. He could see his men in the distance still going, but their group had been slowly separated from the others and he realized that he’d been intentionally lead away from the main body of his army. Ten Guardians surrounded him, weapons held ready, Windel stood on one side, Serix on the other. Surrounding them were a hundred or so goblins, eyes watching them hungrily, weapons in hand ready.

  “Okay, I take it back, you don’t have to ask me first,” he commented to the mage and Serix only shook his head.

  Slowly their enemy backed away and began to part on his left. Turning his head, he saw a flash of red and the thunder of drums began to beat nearby. “Listen, whatever happens, you make sure the two of you reach the main body of the army,” he told the mage and his aide.

  Neither one of them acted like they heard him as slowly the red armored orc marched into view. Two large battle-axes in hand, the large monstrosity that had called himself War stepped into the space before them, the goblins closing ranks as he passed through. They had created an arena with a wall of snarls and knives, eyes hungrily anticipating what was coming next.