Iron Champion (Legend of the Iron Flower Book 5)

by Billy Wong

  Iron Champion

  by Billy Wong

  Iron Champion

  Copyright © 2013 Billy Wong

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.

  All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Credits and author page

  Sample of Iron Melting

  Chapter 1

  Farewells were always tough. Rose could sense her husband's anxiety as she kissed her twin babies goodbye in the war-trophy-filled room that served for their bedchamber inside the tower. Though their appearance might seem harsh, the otherwise bare stone walls gave her a feeling of safety by reminding her of a fortress. "What's wrong?" she asked. But in her heart, she already knew what his answer would be.

  Finn's wide face bore an expected frown of worry. "I don't want you to go. Come on, Rose, you've only been home for a few months. Are you going to leave your kids again so soon?"

  The female warrior-mage, though she didn't think of herself as much of a mage being so new to it, laughed her deep, rich laugh. She put on her shirt, covering up the numerous scars on her trunk from wounds that would've killed anyone else. She was the Iron Flower after all, the freakishly resilient greatest warrior of their nation, and he the strongest man in Kayland. "It's only for a short while; after all, I'm just going there to check the place out. I mean, it's spring! Time for new beginnings."

  They had received a letter from King Gregor of Terlon indicating his interest in establishing a branch of the Center for Magical Study—the institution created by Rose, Finn, and their scholar friend Derrick after rediscovering the lost art of spellcasting together—in his nation. Running his massive hand through her mane of fluffy dark hair, Finn said, "But there's a war going on there."

  "Yeah, that's why I was hesitant about opening a branch there. But you and Derrick were so enthusiastic about our first overseas invitation—even if it's a relatively small sea—that you insisted we give it a chance. You outvoted me two to one, remember?"

  "That was before I really thought about it. Should I take it back?"

  Rose shrugged her huge shoulders. "I'm not really that against going. It'll be fun to see a new place. But if you don't want me to go..."

  Finn sighed. "I would like to give this a chance. But why does it have to just be you who goes? I could come with you."

  "Derrick is busy starting things up out west in Dunwal," she reminded him, "so you need to stay to teach the advanced classes. We won't have enough people to fill teaching roles in new branches, if you don't get more mages up to par. Besides, he did request me in particular and one of the parents should be home for our kids, right?"

  He nodded, though she knew he wasn't thrilled about the notion of being the stay-home dad. "Don't involve yourself in the war, okay Rose?"

  She grinned. "I'll try. Gregor did say he had it in hand, though."

  "I'm going to be lonely around here without you. Come back soon."

  The big woman hugged her much larger—yet no stronger—husband, then shared a long kiss with him. "Take care, Finn. Give our Jacob and Amber enough love for the both of us."

  He reluctantly let Rose go, saying when he finally released her, "Make sure you come back for them." Why did he worry so? She was just going to talk to the king.

  Now she noticed her son Jacob looking glum. Though there was no way the nearly two year old could know she wouldn't be back for a while, for a moment Rose considered canceling her trip. She did spend too little time raising her children. Instead, she assured everyone—including herself—one last time that she'd be back soon. And she left to catch her ship.

  #

  Julian stared at his older brother Regis, who continued to brush his long brown hair. It was as if the large-windowed palace chamber overlooking bright gardens made the mammoth warrior king think himself instead a beautiful princess. Both brothers were tall, dark-complexioned men in their early forties, but Regis' arrogant bearing and enormous frame contrasted sharply with Julian's soft-spoken demeanor and lean athleticism. While Regis held the title of Emperor in the vast kingdom of Fanteia of the rolling hills and boundless harvest, anyone in the know considered Julian just as important. Being High Cleric of the war god Deathend, he could easily hold his own in any conflict with his more outwardly warlike sibling.

  "Brother! Shouldn't you be more concerned about what I just told you?! The greatest seer on the continent just prophesized the coming downfall of our god!"

  Regis did not pause in his grooming. "You mean your god. I care not for your Deathend. What has he done for me? Everything I have, I took through my own strength and wits. Just as Terlon will fall by my hand."

  "Deathend gives us the good fortune in war which has brought us here!" How could his brother be such an ungrateful blasphemer, when he'd gained so much thanks to the war god's favor? Sometimes Julian feared that Deathend would withdraw his help from Fanteia for Regis' lack of faith, and hence bring about the great nation's fall. His nation.

  It was Julian, after all, who had found the means through which he spoke regularly to Deathend, the deity's helmet that rested comfortingly in his room. And while Regis presided over Fanteia's earthly affairs, his brother led the nation's faith and kept the god ever in their minds. Deathend always assured him Fanteia was as much his own land as the brothers', and that he'd never allow it to fail while he reigned in heaven. Now, that reign was threatened.

  Regis gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, tell me what this prophecy says. I'm sure we have the resources to stop whoever plots the overthrow of our religion. If nothing else, that would be quite a blow to our people's morale, and I don't need that when I'm about to finish conquering this continent."

  Julian wasn't sure his brother would quickly grasp the meaning of the prophecy's exact words, so he paraphrased. "A young man born here in Fanteia, who bears a flaming axe on his neck, will soon realize his destiny and free the land of the war god's grasp. Something close to that."

  Regis' eyes narrowed. "The war god's grasp? I'd like to think it only means the same thing you do, but could also take it to mean our hold over the empire. And that would be very undesirable. But we have little to worry about, so long as we keep an eye out for what is happening in our country and crush any dangerous uprisings we see with the utmost haste. Though it would be reassuring if we can just find and kill this axe-boy."

  Typical of his brother, to think everything could be solved by brute force. In this case, Julian agreed with him. If the destined one was dead, he'd be hardly a threat. "I'm glad you care, one way or another. I'll have my faithful try to find this young man of the axe, as I assume your soldiers will. The more quickly this threat is gone, the better."

  "No need to thank me," Regis said with a haughty look. "I wouldn't let anything threaten the glory of my Fanteia. Now if you'll excuse me, I have guests to meet."

  Before he could leave,
Julian suggested, "Maybe you ought to join your army now, so we can finish off Terlon before having to deal with trouble on two fronts?" Regis had retired from the battlefield, leaving his subordinates to do all the work of conquering Terlon since he viewed the northern nation's warriors as too weak to be worthy of his time. They, however, had proven more than capable of stymieing the army without him.

  "Fine, I'll return to the battle soon. What about you? You're not a bad fighter yourself."

  "Maybe. I have a lot to take care of around here." Unlike Regis, he didn't always delegate the "boring" tasks to others.

  Picking up his immense pike, the emperor stalked out of the room to meet the latest foreign diplomats to visit the palace. Julian hoped he would simply scare the wits out of this bunch rather than killing them. Fanteia could use some peacetime after its conquest of Terlon, at least until the foretold threat was eliminated.

  #

  Rose grabbed the sailor as he tumbled over the edge of the deck and pulled him back up, the tanned man giving her a nod of thanks before scurrying away across the wood. The ship had met one hell of a storm halfway to their destination, and the crew struggled to get through the day alive. Though it was rough, Rose had begun to get into the rhythm of running from place to place helping whoever needed it the most, and now slipped and stumbled towards the men trying to lower the sail. But then a broad, flat reptilian head the size of a carriage broke the water near the stern, snapping up a beefy sailor in a maw full of long teeth.

  She almost couldn't believe this was happening right in the middle of the storm, but ran to meet the sea serpent before it could claim any more lives. Drawing her heavy broadsword Thorn, she slashed at its neck—somewhat clumsily due to the rain and rocking ship. It reared back and hissed, raising a spike-covered tail high into the air. Not a tail! She'd taken a rather severe injury from one of those in the not so distant past. The serpent swiped at her. She ducked, allowing the fleshy whip to sail over her head, and came up with a slice which left a deep gouge in the monster's brow.

  The wound seemed to discourage the serpent, and it disappeared beneath the water. But then the ship lurched from a powerful impact followed by another, and Rose realized it continued its attack from below. She saw only one choice if the ship was to be saved, and not a pleasant one. Steeling herself for a rough battle, she jumped over the side after the beast. But even before she hit the water, its head shot up into the air and snatched her in its deadly jaws.

  She cried out as sharp teeth dug into the flesh of her torso, but did not allow the monster any more time chewing on her than she had to. Chopping into its eye with her sword, she forced it to drop her—right into the turbulent waters below. The stormy sea proved very dark, and only grew darker with her blood so that she could hardly see anything beneath the surface. But she felt the tail which crashed into her side just fine, throwing her against the underwater portion of the ship's hull. Her ribs hurt, and she fought to hold her breath.

  Her enemy's huge head swooped down from above. This time she managed to avoid the jaws, twisting around them to plunge her left hand into its ruined eye and use the socket as a handhold. She raised her sword and tried to hack into the serpent's skull. But it was too thick to penetrate easily, and the flexible tail lashed her on the back while she hung from its head. She lost her grip on the eye socket bone and the tail coiled around her. It slammed her against the hull, making her cough blood. At this rate, it might sink the ship! Desperately she powered her arm free and severed the tail with a chop. The monster's maw widened in silent anguish. Pushing off the hull with her legs, Rose propelled herself towards it and stabbed into the roof of its mouth. It lost control of its body, and sank thrashing in its death spasms into the depths.

  Rose surfaced with a huge gasp, glad to get to breathe again. She began to pull herself up the anchor chain, a tough climb in her wounded state. What a pain! The crew had better be able to keep the storm from claiming her ride; she didn't want her spilled blood to have been for nothing, and the rest of the way to Terlon would be a long swim.

  #

  King Gregor frowned as he mulled over the news. The Fanteian army would soon be here, Emperor Regis himself having routed his forces on the plains south of his beloved city of Sorin on the walls of which he stood. Though most of his soldiers had gone, the blood their wounded stained the road with on the way here made him picture with sadness their haggard, defeated faces as they came through the gates. Dammit, why did Regis have to be so powerful? Terlon had defeated the threat of Fanteian invasion many a time, in past generations and this one. But now, they could hold their ground no longer. Were there no more heroes in today's world? Perhaps the Fanteians considered Regis such a man. He was as huge, strong, and fearless as the legends of yore, if not as noble. Gregor had seen that warrior's power with his own eyes, and he was indeed an awesome sight. But Terlon, a small, largely flat kingdom and the last independent nation that shared Fanteia's borders, could use more heroes of its own. He wasn't ready to accept defeat yet, but being forced to retreat and relocate their capital made his outlook grim.

  Gregor's daughter Danica interrupted his thoughts. "Father, we have to go. Everybody else is leaving."

  If anyone in Terlon could be compared to the old heroes, it was Danica. She had wounded Fanteia's three great champions and driven them from the field, hampering the enemy's war effort greatly until Regis made his presence felt. The best warrior in the country, she looked the part despite her sex. A tall, powerfully built young woman with neck length whitish-blonde hair and a harsh, full-lipped face, she wore a perpetual angry frown which made most enemies' knees weak before they even engaged her in battle. Famed for the berserker rage that often took hold of her, she killed scores of men every time she took part in mass combat. Looking at her in her form-fitting black plate, thick and effective though beautifully forged, sometimes scared even Gregor himself.

  Gregor felt very proud of his daughter's strength, yet found her lacking in other areas of life. She could have had almost any man she wanted, but none was ever good enough for her. Hell, she never wanted to hold friendly conversation with anyone for more than five minutes. He wished for her sake that she'd learn to appreciate other people sooner rather than later. As well, she was his heir, and would someday rule Terlon. If she continued her antisocial ways, how could she ever be a decent queen?

  "Let's go, father," Danica said, and grabbing his arm began to drag Gregor after her. He noticed the stubs of thick arrow shafts protruding from holes in her armor, though she didn't seem much bothered by them, and shuddered. Much to his distress, she was the kind of fighter who fought on in spite of suffering tremendous punishment. Often, she came home bearing hurts that might've laid low or even killed another warrior, and no matter how much she brusquely assured him she could take it, he could never calm his fright at the sight of such injury to her. He'd already lost her mother in giving life to her, and couldn't bear the thought of losing her too. As he slowed staring at her ugly wounds, she snapped, "Aren't you paying any attention to what's happening?"

  He looked at his angry daughter—well, she always seemed angry—and said softly, "I just don't want to leave this place. I've never lived anyplace else." Neither had Danica, yet she seemed unbothered by having to leave, like she had no attachment to her home.

  Or maybe she did, because after a pause, she answered with greater than usual fury, "You'll be back. Once I've killed the thieves who take it from you."

  #

  They finally arrived in the port of Polier, and Rose wondered at the dress of the natives here. Boy, it was still too cool for such light clothes! Men and women wore loose garments that exposed a lot of skin, and she supposed their flesh must have grown accustomed to feeling a cold breeze. Rose took comfort in the thickness of her heavy cloak, her latest one after the previous had been ripped apart in the sea battle which also put considerable tears in her flesh. At least her new cloak would likely survive her trip, presuming she didn't have any more bad
luck. Then again, bad luck was as much a given in her life as snow in wintertime. No matter--she'd always weathered her storms.

  Terlon's capital Sorin was fifty miles south of Polier, a good two days' walk through the mountain range which housed the capital and separated it from the rest of the nation. Whose bright idea had that been? Rose supposed maybe Terlon had once been a small mountain kingdom which expanded into what it was today, and that tradition kept the capital where it was. Terlon now stretched across the plains for four hundred miles north of the mountains, a decently sized country by Rose's measure though dwarfed by the massive empire to the south. She stopped in a nearby tavern for two big bowls of stew before going to meet her guide at the specified inn, knowing he or she might be in too much of a rush to give her a chance to eat well.

  Her guide turned out to be a young heavy-bearded man wearing chain under a tunic in Terlonian navy blue and tan named Sean, who made a good first impression when he reminded her to check how much food and water she had before departure. Of course, she'd already done that. Rose didn't think she actually needed a guide, being used to finding her way on her own, but appreciated company even if it did usually slow her pace a bit. They set out on the road flanked by wide expanses of tall, waving grass. She looked forward to learning more about this country, but Sean only seemed interested in hearing stories of her adventures and she indulged him.

  The young man, whose handsomeness was noticeable even underneath that dirty brown beard, had seemed starstruck and awkward from the moment he met her. As he listened to her tales of bloody and very painful battles against famed warriors and powerful monsters, he grew further impressed with her. "You're amazing! I never would have thought such a nice woman like you would be capable of such deeds!"

  Rose laughed. "I'm not exactly nice in battle." In fact, she considered herself quite brutal, and wasn't proud of that. She was proud of the huge arm she flexed. "Besides, I sure am strong enough, even after all the awful wounds I've taken in my time."