The New Age Saga Box Set

by Timothy A. Ray

  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 to. 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?

  Pendoran 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 brief second, 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 few minutes, 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 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 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 spared a quick 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 to, I’ve got a battle 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.

  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 was standing 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 lightly in the mage’s direction 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 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.

  “I don’t suppose either one of you thought to bring a ladder?” he asked the two men, trying to make light of the situation.

  “Sorry, Sire. Left it with my horse,” Windel tossed back, his voice strained.

  Serix only shook his head. “I’m a mage, what do I need a ladder for?”

  The red armored warrior before them suddenly roared, arms outstretched, axes held high. The goblins around him burst into an answering bellow.

  “Think he’d settle for a round of poker?” Windel turned and asked him.

  The mage chuckled. “Seems more of a mud-wrestling fan.”

  He shook his head, eyeing the creature before them. “You two want to wrestle that, go right ahead. I’ll just sit back here and watch.”

  “Enough petty jokes,” the orc roared. “War promised this moment come. War will enjoy cleaving bodies in two, proudly mount heads on spikes—,”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” he interrupted, stepping forward, his Guardians resisting his attempts to push them aside. “I’ve heard all this bullshit before. I’m right here, you fucking idiot. You want me? Come get me!”

  The Guardians raised their voices in defiance and he brought up his shield and readied his sword. “For Lancaster!” he bellowed, charging the large orc. His men took up the rallying cry and followed quickly behind.

  Epilogue

  Shirl’s wings fluttered quickly as she sped through the forest; a sudden updraft lifting her tiny body skyward and forcing her to quicken her wing speed in response. Her instincts kicked in and she folded her wings back, lowered her head, and dove straight into the wind. Blond hair whipping in the current buffeting her, she shot like an arrow towards the forest ground below. Her slightly pointed ears tingled with the gusts; her legs angling her descent. She wore skin tight dark green pants and a wrapped short sleeve tunic, each of them giving her only a slight degree of drag.

  The ground closed in on her and at the last second, she spread her wings and the lift sent her soaring forth at great speed. She banked to miss an oncoming fern and as she got clear of the updraft, she slowly angled her feet; gaining altitude once more. Elder trees zoomed past and she dodged a low hanging branch as she altered her lower wings to produce enough drag to slow her flight.

  The Spirit Mother had sent her on an errand earlier that morning and she felt burdened by how much time had passed in seeing it completed. A summons had been issued to the Fairy Queen and when the Spirit Mother called, no station was high enough to refuse an audience. The old wood nymph was revered amongst their people; her visions having steered them safely through the turmoil of the last three thousand years.

  Shirl knew that the time was coming when the Spirit Mother would leave this world and begin her journey to the next; which made the tedious nature of her errand all that more important to see swiftly done. Many had tried to deter her request and only after realizing who had sent her, had she finally been granted audience with the queen. She knew they’d be a few hours yet to her rear; she wanted to get back and move on to her next task before they arrived. She had no patience for the glamour of court life and had been impatient to get back to her humble home in the forest; away from the raised eyebrows of her kin.

  She was a pariah amongst her people, and that didn’t bother her as much as it did them. She liked the freedom that came from being free of cultural bindings and intrigue. The peacefulness of the forests calmed her, while the bustling chaos of the Fairy Glen exhausted her quickly; making her head ache for days after. There was always some new scheme or drama playing out and she shook her head at how idiotic it all seemed to her. Such a waste of life.

  The wild was where they truly belonged. Not in the stylish trappings of societal life p
lagued with gossip, mysterious deaths, and glamoured trysts of sexual play. She saw the desperate need for her people to return to their roots and forsake the chaotic lifestyle they had evolved into. If it didn’t change, they’d eventually end up destroying themselves, and that would be the end of their race.

  Not that it would be the first time.

  Fairy was a name that encompassed a wide variety of creatures, lumped together by the larger races in the world to define a type of life, not describe who they truly were. Many of the races had very little in common and rarely interacted with one another. The last time the Fairy race came together was in the Freedom War, when their elders had convened an emergency council, and for the first time since ancient memory, unified the races in order to help drive the Phoenix into oblivion.

  Quickly after the war, they had separated once more and spread across the lands. Many lived amongst the other races, unknown for who or what they were; yet always there somewhere in the background.

  Shirl was a sprite and was born with her other eighty brothers and sisters to the current Queen of the Fairies. It did not afford her any entitlement; she would never be an heir to the throne. Their rules of succession were of magical means and not blood related like the other races that populated the world. When she was old enough to feed and clothe herself, she had been given quarters in the glen and expected to start contributing to society.

  Her nature was such that her early years had been complete torture and her turbulent temperament with their idiotic ways quickly started to set her apart. So, when the Spirit Mother asked for an assistant to be sent, she had quickly volunteered, and all those she left behind were happy to see her go.

  Since then, she had been doing the odd errand; mostly getting ingredients for spells she had never heard of or conceived of trying herself. The amount of knowledge the Spirit Mother had amassed was too staggering for her to comprehend and she knew most of it would be lost with her passing. Part of her duties were studying old complex spells, but there was no way she could master everything the Spirit Mother had to teach before it would be lost; there just wasn’t enough time.