The New Age Saga Box Set

by Timothy A. Ray

  Melissa sighed. “Look, I’ll explain, but I think we all need to calm down first. I need his full attention and right now that’s impossible.”

  He couldn’t agree more. His body was not his own; his soul torn in two. He had no idea what had just happened, but he was in no condition to hear anymore. Sobbing, he pushed his head into Willow’s neck and held her close. What’s happening to me?

  IV

  “I’m sorry,” he told Kylee as he stepped forward and tried to hug her.

  The ranger flinched.

  I deserve that. He remained fixed in place, wishing he could say something to mend what he had done, but unable to find the words to do his remorse justice. “Truly,” he tried again, but his sister-in-law only nodded, refusing to look at him. He turned back to his fiancé, who had taken a seat at the table by the pool. Melissa had summoned the three chairs they had been using earlier and had placed them around it, the water’s surface reflecting her pale skin as she walked by.

  He went to join her; unable to come up with anything else to say. “You know,” Willow began, “I’m the one that should be apologizing; I almost killed you myself.”

  “Seems to be going around,” he muttered, taking a seat by her side. He grasped her hand and squeezed. “Thank you for stopping me.”

  “Thank you for forgiving me,” Willow smiled back.

  They were whole once again. Their love was absolute, and nothing would ever change that. Such a shame, he heard a voice whisper in his mind, but he ignored it. He was at peace with the woman he loved, and when their fingers interlaced, he knew that he was home. “A baby huh?” he asked, changing the subject.

  She’d given him the news while they were on the floor sobbing. It had helped calm him down. Willow chuckled, and he realized how much he’d missed her laugh. “And a girl. Means she gets to wear the pink dress and crown.”

  Melissa broke into a fit of laughter and his face flushed.

  “Thanks a lot,” he growled. “Can’t even go a day without bringing that up, can you?”

  Kylee refused to sit. She stood against the cavern wall near the water, peering into the shallow depths. He couldn’t blame her. She’d trusted him, opened up to him, and he’d almost cut her head off. How could he ever make up for that? Their eyes briefly met, and he tried to convey his apologies through his eyes the best he could, but hers flittered away and focused on the water instead.

  The witch slid into her chair and Willow turned away from him to face her directly. “Now, I want some answers.”

  “There is nothing more powerful than truth. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Melissa asked, nodding as she got their silent reply. “Millions of years ago, explorers from another galaxy crash landed on Earth. Though they were protected by their advanced technology, the impact was so severe that clouds of dust filled the skies and a mass extinction was the result.”

  “What’s that—,” Willow tried to cut in.

  “It relates. Just be patient,” Melissa interrupted. “These explorers were unable to get their ship repaired and they were permanently stranded far from home on a dying planet. They were humanoid, and though other primates littered the lands, none of them were intelligent; much less perfect specimens to mate with. You see, there were three survivors and they were all male.”

  “One of these men was exploring a nearby wasteland when an exotic song grabbed his attention. Following the voice across the devastated Earth, he pierced the realm of magic and entered into a fairy’s clutches. A queen among her kind, she seduced the strange humanoid and lured him to her bed. He was never seen by his crewmates again, but the fruits of that union are sitting across the table from me; the elves.”

  “Despairing about their fate, another of the men went into the mountains and there found a primitive species of primate hiding within its caves. Short in stature and skittish, he eventually won their trust and took one of the females for his mate. That was the beginning of the dwarves.”

  “The last man roamed the Earth. Unable to find his comrades, billions of miles from home, he got ambushed by the primitive apes inhabiting a land called Africa. The man was deemed a God, and before they ate the poor soul, the women forced free his seed and gave birth to the first Man.”

  “Time passed and while the dwarves hid in their caves, Man spread across the African continent, consuming and growing like parasites. No offense,” Melissa said to him; he was barely listening. He wasn’t here for a history lesson. “The elves however, had got drunk on power. In the magical realm surrounded by fairies, they forced their way to the upper hierarchies and were on the verge of causing another mass extinction.”

  “Luckily, the elders of that race foresaw this. They gathered together and decided that the chaos could be reined in if they could focus all of their magic into forging a magical weapon of pure intent. Something that would help rally the men, to help lead them to a better future. Using the blood of one of their strongest, purest elves, they bent their magic and forged the magical sword forever known as Excalibur.”

  “What they didn’t realize is that in nature there has to be a balance. You cannot have pure good without pure evil. And when the sword came into being a large vacuum was created as nature fought to balance the scales. The Book of the Dead appeared before a pharaoh in a land called Egypt. The man who found it knew it for what it was and hid it beneath his tomb, afraid that if it got loosed upon the world whole civilizations would be destroyed.”

  “It was found by clerics attending the fallen king centuries later and a cult formed around the book. For three thousand years, it worked behind the scenes while dynasties rose as others died. Then the Library of Alexandria was destroyed, and the book was lost. It is believed that one of the clerics in charge of the book fled before the Roman army descended upon Egypt and that they hid on the fringes of the Roman Empire in a land called Britain.”

  “During the reign of King Arthur, his half-sister Morgana found the book in a long-forgotten tomb and with its magic deceived her brother into laying with her; conceiving a child. A product of incest but heir to the throne, she whisked the baby away and raised him on her own. Weaving her magic, she created a being of pure evil and when the child came of age, he went looking for his father.”

  “Merlin and a group of druids assaulted Morgana’s lair, stole the book, and protected it in a castle with very powerful magical defenses. When the mage emerged Morgana was waiting, and it was in that moment the unprepared mage was imprisoned in his tomb of ice. Without the book, Morgana was limited to the power she had already attained; never satisfied.”

  “After Arthur’s death, the sword was returned to the Lady of the Lake, Nimue, and lost to the race of Man,” Melissa told them, then paused. “Two thousand years ago, a woman named Rachel Emerick went to Egypt on a school field trip and was entranced by the ancient history she was exposed to. Fascinated by the tales of the Book of the Dead, she spent her teenage years tracking it through history. The Information Age made materials available with a touch of a finger and she was able to locate the book where Merlin had hidden it. Rachel, the descendant of Morgana le Fey, did what her ancestor could not; she broke through the castle’s defenses and regained her great grandmother’s book for her own. The Phoenix had been born.”

  “The druids that had helped Merlin fight Morgana had hidden from the world, secretly passing their magic down through their children until the day they would be needed again. I am one of those descendants and when the castle’s defenses fell I was alerted immediately. I gathered others of my kind and we went in search of Nimue, knowing that eventually the Phoenix’s would seek her out; for only Excalibur can destroy the Book of the Dead.”

  “My friends and I were able to construct an elaborate set of defenses to protect Nimue until the day came that its heir rose and claimed it. As was prophesized, King Arthur lives again. Reincarnated in the body of an Elven King, his own blood line; he will never be complete until Excalibur is once more in his grasp. What Tristan saw
was the powerful memories of a former life surging forward into its unprepared host and it triggered his own as well.”

  “You called yourself Lancelot. He was the first and best knight of the Round Table, and King Arthur’s best friend. He betrayed that friendship by falling in love with Arthur’s wife and running away with her. I believe his soul has been loose upon the world, seeking redemption, and has chosen you to get it for him. Only by returning Excalibur to Arthur will Lancelot truly be at peace.”

  He didn’t know where to start, or how to begin. He couldn’t absorb everything she said and process it fast enough.

  “What must we do?” Willow asked for him, the revelations causing his temples to throb; his head to ache.

  “You still want to take on this foolish quest?” Melissa asked, eyes wide. “Maybe you should think on it. Go home. Take some time to reconsider.”

  “What home?” he finally croaked. “It’s under attack even as we speak. I can’t go back there, and to be honest, I can’t really be safe anywhere. Because no matter what happens to my people, the Phoenix will keep coming; she’ll never stop. The only way to put an end to her is to destroy that book. To do that, I need Excalibur. So please, stop acting like we have a choice.”

  Melissa shook her head in disbelief, “you always have a choice.”

  He scoffed, “everybody keeps saying that, but it’s horseshit.”

  “To what, hide here like you did? To bury your head in the sand?” Kylee spoke up, standing behind them, a hand on both their shoulders. He felt like placing his own on hers but didn’t dare push it. He was just glad for the gesture.

  “Don’t you dare question me! I have lived while everyone I know has perished. I have seen the world die and be reborn. For two thousand years, I have survived. Why should I get involved now? I’ll just end up dead with everyone else,” the witch stated.

  “You’re already are, and you know it,” he reminded her, and Melissa’s head dropped.

  Willow leaned forward and placed her hand on Melissa’s. “Why not begin by telling us what we need to do to find the sword.”

  Melissa looked into the water beside them for a second before responding. “We devised a series of defenses that require keys to unlock. We created each of the keys as representatives of the four elements. This,” the woman blurted as she lifted a bundle from her lap and placed it on the table, “is the Sword of Madera.” She unwrapped the weapon within to reveal a sword made of wood. It was polished, gleaming in the torchlight, about the size of a short sword. On the hilt was a wooden engraving of a tree within a circle, the grip was made of wrapped leather over a wooden pommel. Not much of a weapon; it didn’t look any different than the training swords he’d used back home.

  She refused to remove it from the cloth and glared at him for thinking it inferior.

  “It is the first key and represents Water. The second,” Melissa continued, “is lying on the ground over there. Though his father named it Seeker its true name is Justice and was created to represent Air. That you already had it proves that this is your destiny and I cannot deny the unseen forces that have brought you to me. I must bow before them and accept what fate has decreed.”

  His father had a magical sword?

  “What of the other two? You said there were four,” Willow pushed, her face eager. She was excited, and he wished he had the energy to be as well. There was just too much to think on, and he hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

  The witch nodded in response, “one is hidden with the City of Silver and Gold. The other was found by the Phoenix a long time ago and I have no idea where the evil witch hid it. Or even if it still exists.”

  His heart sank. If the Phoenix had the fourth key, then how were they to retrieve Excalibur before facing her? It seemed impossible. There was no way they’d make it through the Deadlands unnoticed, much less enter her fortress and steal it out from under her. No wonder Melissa thought it was a fool’s errand. You’d have to be insane to make a journey like that.

  Melissa nodded grimly at his train of thoughts; he had finally understood.

  “One thing at a time,” Willow told them both, squeezing his hand and giving him a smile. “First, we have to get to the third key, then we’ll worry about the last. Do you know where this City of Silver and Gold is?”

  “I do,” Melissa told them with a sad smile. “It’s been known by several names throughout the years, most long forgotten. It’s hidden deep within the Drago Mountains. Merlin trained his druids there during the rebellion. Ironic that it was so close yet none of them ever sensed it. In Tristan’s soul, he’ll recognize the name instantly. The third key—lies within Camelot.”

  Interlude

  Though the sun had been cresting the horizon when he’d fallen through the portal, it was still night when he struck the rough sand and rolled onto the surf. Dazed, he struggled to breathe as a wave washed over his head and filled his lungs with water. His body rejected the frigid, salty liquid; throwing it up when the waves rescinded enough for him to do so. He opened his stinging, crusted eyelids just in time to see the flash of green light coming his way. When he tried to counter the spell with one of his own, his mouth was once again flooded with sea water and it died in his throat.

  The flames hit him full in the chest, knocking what little air he had managed to inhale out in a quick burst of exhalation. He was thrown backwards, bouncing off the water as if he were a flat rock being skipped by a bored teenager. When his momentum stopped enough for gravity to take over, he was thrust completely underwater, unable to determine which way was up, his staff tightly gripped in both hands.

  His lungs were burning. He knew that if he didn’t get air soon, he was going to die. Surgere! he commanded from within his mind, thrusting his staff where he prayed the surface was. His hand almost slipped from the crystalline staff as it yanked him forward. His eyes were closed; body roaring with the pain of being in the freezing water. He couldn’t hold his breath much longer and once he began inhaling, it’d be over.

  His fingers felt a cold wind as they broke the surface, the staff held in a death grip as it pulled him free of the ocean’s frigid depths. His cloak wrapped around him tightly as he rose higher; the ocean breeze chilling his bones. “Cessabit!” he croaked; throat sore and struggling to work. “Deinceps!”

  As he floated towards the coast, he saw a red-light flare and knew that the goblin was retreating. Surprise had passed and now that he had resurrected himself from the ocean, the creature fled before he could reach him. He lowered his staff and his foot touched the beach just above the tideline. Grateful, he released the magic and felt his body pulled by gravity once more.

  Merlin surveyed the beach stretching to either side; the sun finally beginning to rise to the east. It was late summer and soon fall would be upon them. The frosty air dissipated the instant the sun’s rays struck west. A glint of metal sparkled in the distance. It was probably discarded trash, but still worth his time to investigate. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the time. There was no hint of civilization within sight and he needed to figure out where he was.

  Willing his body forward, he plunged up the slight rise. His feet dug heavily into the loose sand; rarely getting solid footing. He had been expecting to find hard ground eventually and was disappointed when it was just more sand. It was tanner, lighter, and dry; they were in a desert. The question was, which one? If it was California—he was screwed.

  A pit fell in his stomach when he realized that for now, his comrades were on their own.

  “Kore not hurt! Mage leave Kore alone!” roared a familiar voice.

  What the hell was he doing here? This didn’t bode well; at all. How many had followed after him; how exposed had that left the others? Stepping to the top of the sandy dune, he glanced down at a short desolate valley and spied two figures crouching in the fleeing darkness. At least it was only two of them; not as bad as it could have been, but worse than he had hoped. Kore was the only muscle on that cliff top; magical
creatures aside.

  He sighed as he approached, listening to the two argue. When Kore shifted, the new morning light struck a piece of metal and Merlin’s eyes drifted towards it; widening with surprise. The large battle axe was buried in the skull of the goblin sorcerer.

  “Would you tell this oaf to stay still? I’m trying to heal the burn on this idiot’s face,” Serix cursed in his direction; glaring angrily at the defiant orc in front of him. The mage’s gray peppered hair was covered in sand and some shook loose as he glanced his way. The sand sifted over his black robes, giving an impression of stars upon the night sky. Serix once more leaned forward in an attempt to heal the third degree burn on Kore’s right cheek, but the warrior was having none of it.

  He must have gotten blasted in the face; the angle of the helm telling Merlin it had come from Kore’s right. He let out another sigh and knelt next to the big guy. “He’s smarter than you think. Try not insulting him and maybe he’d let you help him.”

  “He’s just an orc,” Serix sneered.

  He eyed the man coldly, “if you want to continue on with me, you will never say that again. Go, scrye for water.” He waited until the mage moved off before turning to attend to his comrade. The platemail was sturdy, dented in numerous places, and was covered in greenish black sludge caked with sand. Kore’s tusks were working as he moved his tongue around his mouth, experimenting with the inner damage to his cheek.

  He slowly reached out and slid the large warrior’s helm free.

  “Ass,” Kore snorted, eyes watching the black-robed mage standing a few feet away.

  “I know,” he responded, placing a hand on the orc’s burnt skin. Kore’s eye reflexively squinted but he was a boulder that would not move any further. You had to admire the man’s courage, this type of burn would leave a lesser one screaming in agony. “Sanabit,” he whispered tenderly and felt the magic begin to flow out of him. Soft white light spread over the orc’s face and the skin slowly began to stitch itself back together.