War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  Chapter Ten: Dreams and Promises

  Osiris stood on the pier and looked out at the abandoned port. Holland landed on the edge of the beach and shifted into his human form. He couldn’t help a slight chuckle that escaped his lips as he gazed upon the empty streets and abandoned taverns. There weren’t even any outgoing ships from other realms. Either Leonetta had disappeared from the Vale Port like she did the people of her own land, or the fae knew they were coming.

  “Well,” Osiris stated as he looked up and down the streets. “This is not quite the battle I had envisioned. Surely, they are close.”

  “The other shifters reported nothing as far as they could see,” Holland stated as he pushed over some wood crates with the edge of his sword. “There is literally no trace of the fae or anyone else for that matter.”

  “What kind of game is this?” Osiris said, placing his hand on the handle of his sword.

  “I don’t know if it is,” Holland replied. “They literally cannot find a soul.”

  “Nor will they,” a deep voice came from behind the saloon doors a few feet away from the men. The guards stepped back and drew their swords while Holland stepped in front of the king at the ready.

  “Show yourself,” Holland bellowed. “Hands in the air.”

  A tall man with dark hair, dressed in black, and wearing a hooded cape stepped out into the light, his gloved hands in the air. Holland nodded to the guards who grabbed him by the arms and stepped him forward. The man kept his face pointed at the ground.

  “Who are you?” Holland demanded.

  “Just an ally with some pertinent information,” the voice stated in a weasel sort of manner.

  “We will be the judge of that,” Osiris said as he stepped around Holland and looked the man up and down. “What information do you have?”

  “Well, Your Grace,” the hooded man stated, bowing, “Anthurium is dead.”

  “What?!” Holland stated, his head swinging toward Osiris. “How?”

  “Why, by his very own lost daughter,” the voice laughed. “And on the day she had returned to him.”

  “Impossible,” the king shouted. “She should be dead by now.”

  “She was cunning,” the hooded figure stated. “But the king of Cyclopian allowed one of your men in, and he plunged a dagger into her heart. Dear Anthurium gave his own life to save her. It was very poetic, and all just days before the queen’s mark.”

  “So, that is why the port is empty,” Holland stated, rubbing his chin. “And we wouldn’t have gotten notice of the closing of the ports because we were scheduled for arrival.”

  “This is an interesting change of events,” Osiris stated, turning back toward the ocean. “The gods seem to be in our favor.”

  “What about this man?” the guard asked Holland.

  “Dispose of him,” Osiris stated, waving his hand.

  “Don’t you wish to see what you would be missing?” the stranger asked, catching Osiris’ attention.

  The hooded figure lifted his gloved hand, and several of the guards jumped back. A dark liquid-looking substance crept over his glove, across the ground, and over the edge of the pier in front of them. Holland put his arm in front of Osiris and jumped to the side, watching the ooze move along seamlessly. Once in the water, the winds began to shift and the ground beneath them shuttered. Osiris stepped forward, squinting at the figures appearing in the water. They moved without thought and in unison as they climbed the sandy shores and stopped in rows.

  The creatures walked silently, and Holland’s eyes grew larger. The skin of the marching army was gone, and all that was left were bones and several shards of old cloth caught between the ribcage. They had no eyes in the hollow sockets of their skulls, and they drug their swords behind them. The howling of the wind and the setting of the sun as a backdrop to the dead walking again gave the port an eerie feeling.

  “You are a necromancer,” Holland stated, turning to the man. “But I thought all dead talkers had been killed long ago.”

  “They made an exception,” the man stated, as he removed his hood. “I am Alfontus of Lassliar, former commander of their army. I am here to join you.”

  “A necromancer?” Osiris asked. “From Lassliar? I have never heard of such things.”

  “I was born in the Broom Isles and brought to Lassliar long ago as a child,” Alfontus explained.

  “How do we know you weren’t sent here?” Holland stated, stepping forward.

  “Because I offer my services to you,” Alfontus stated, bowing. “They have been ridiculed for decades among the fae. I knew a king like Osiris would appreciate them.”

  Holland turned and watched the king as he weaved in and out of the line of skeletons, stopping momentarily to touch the dripping skull. He looked almost like a child in a room of toys as he pulled a lodged fish from one of the dead. His belly began to shake as laughter erupted.

  “Can they fight?” Osiris asked joyfully.

  “Better than any human,” Alfontus responded. “And they are immune from the sword. They will continue to fight even if their skull is knocked from their shoulders.”

  “Fantastic,” Osiris stated. “Welcome to the Avalon army.”

  “Your Grace…” Holland stated, not sure it was such a good idea.

  “Find him a place,” Osiris said, ignoring Holland and walking back up toward the saloon. “I’m going to see if they have any whiskey in this damn port.”

  “What about them?” Holland asked as he approached Alfontus and glanced back at the dead who were standing perfectly still, awaiting the necromancer’s command.

  “Oh,” he said lifting his hand and giving it a wave. “They go back to their graves.”

  Holland watched as the skeleton army turned and marched back into the water. The waves of Fortune washed over their heads, but they continued to advance forward until you could no longer see any motion from them. He turned and nodded to the guard next to him and followed the two onto the ship where Alfontus would be given tents and blankets for his camp. Holland shook his head as he watched through the door of the saloon. Osiris picked up several bottles and poured himself shots. As he turned to search out a proper bed in the abandoned port city, he felt the small, feminine hands of Melaya run down his back.

  “Let’s find some privacy,” she whispered. “I grow tired of all of these men, and I desire a bath.”

  “You are quite demanding,” Holland stated with a smile. “But I will never deny you.”

  The two found a small cottage off to the left of the village that sat alone on the dark sanded beaches. The thatched roof and chimney opened up to a modest living area with hand-woven blankets and a large tub in the corner of the room. Holland called for the servants that had traveled with them and watched as they moved water from the wells to the stove. Malaya, not wanting the servants to know she was staying as a guest, hid in the bedroom to the right while they created a hot bath with lavender and salts. When the servants were gone, Holland called to Malaya who emerged from the bedroom, wearing nothing but a small, gold necklace Holland had given her when they were still in Avalon.

  “Well,” Holland said, laughing as she emerged, “I am suddenly feeling the need for a bath as well.”

  Malaya undressed Holland slowly, and the two submerged themselves in the hot, fragrant water. They made love under the rays of moonlight that shone through the slats in the roof. The sounds of waves against the shores filled the cottage, and by the time they were done, the water had gotten cold, and the large bed was calling their name. Malaya’s rhythmic breathing against Holland’s warm chest put him to sleep almost immediately.

  As Holland drifted into the dream world, there were flowers flowing all around him. The floors were cloud-like, and the air was fragrant like Leonetta. He suspiciously walked through the hazy fog and stepped into a field that was reminiscent of the fields of Avalon long before they had become nothing more than ash and cinder. He looked down at his bare feet and felt the cool, damp ground beneat
h his toes. There didn’t seem to be anyone around, and as the fog lifted, he saw a small, yellow bench perched on top of the hill in front of him. Standing next to the bench, her satin gown blowing in the wind, was Leonetta, standing with her back to Holland.

  Holland cautiously approached the top of the hill and stood silently next to Leonetta. Her hand brushed his, and he could feel warmth in the pit of his stomach. She turned toward him and smiled, flecks of light glistening from her porcelain cheeks. Holland couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Do you remember this field?” she asked softly.

  “I do,” Holland said, looking out over the lush, green landscape, a small pond in the far distance. “I used to meet you here and take you for flights.”

  As the words left his lips, he watched as clouds swarmed overhead and the light began to fade. The reeds across the plains wilted before his eyes, and the water in the lake disappeared. The wind whipped across the landscape as ash and cinder replaced the once fruitful realm of Avalon. Holland sighed and turned to Leonetta, remembering the past and her betrayal.

  “Why do you show me this?” he asked. “Is this a dream? Or are you here?”

  “What distinguishes between it being a dream or me being here?” she whispered, still looking out over the burning horizon. “What really matters is why we are here together.”

  “And why are we here together?” Holland asked with a bit of irritation in his voice.

  “My father is dead,” she stated. “I want to ask something of you. I know you don’t believe I deserve it, but regardless of what you think, I have never stopped loving you.”

  “I am sorry for your father’s death,” Holland stated with a bit of empathy. “But what is it that you think I can do for you? We are now enemies.”

  “Enemies in the mind,” Leonetta said, turning to Holland. “But never in the heart. Give us two days. Let us mourn in peace.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” he scoffed.

  “Osiris will listen,” Leonetta said, staring into Holland’s eyes. “If you ever loved me, do this for me. I have known too much death already.”

  “I will see what I can do,” he said, almost entranced.

  Leonetta leaned in and kissed Holland softly on his lips. A warmth ran through his chest and into his stomach. He slowly opened his eyes but she was no longer there, and the lush, green grass beneath his feet had disappeared. He ducked as he heard the screeching sound of dragons. Leonetta’s voice echoed through the space saying:

  If you can’t allow me to mourn, then condemn me to the land of the dead.

  Holland sat straight up in the bed, sweat covering his forehead, and his lungs gasping for air. The moonlight showed through the bedroom window and cast shadows across the walls. Malaya sat up and ran her hand across Holland’s chest and kissed him on the shoulder.

  “Bad dream?” she asked sleepily.

  “Yeah,” Holland replied, falling back into the pillow and pulling Malaya down with him. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heart slow to a comfortable pace.

  “Holland,” she began, “I want to be your Queen.”

  “What?” Holland said surprised, looking down at her. “You want to marry me?”

  “And why not?” Malaya said sitting up. “I am just as good as anyone else.”

  “You are better,” Holland replied, kissing her forehead. “But you are not of royal blood.”

  “I am not of Avalon royal blood,” she said looking at him. “But I am from the line of royalty to the Broom Isles.”

  “What?” Holland spoke with anger in his voice. “You have royal blood and you were sold into slavery?”

  “That is how our culture works,” Malaya stated, looking down. “The king got a good price for me because I was the queen’s niece, twice removed.”

  “My sweet,” Holland replied, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back down. “I am sorry for what you have been through. I promise to speak to the king about our marriage as soon as I am able.”

  Malaya smiled and kissed Holland on the lips before settling back under the covers. Holland’s mind lingered only a moment on the fact that he just chose a wife before going back to his dream. But was it really a dream? Holland knew the fae had the ability to visit you in dreams, but everything was so foggy. Still, Leonetta’s plea stayed with him even in his conscious state, and he felt that it was only right to allow the grieving ones time to mourn, something he had not been given when it came to his own father.

  Outside the window the ocean raged, white caps of waves crashing over one another, and the salty sea air covering everything like a blanket. The stars shone high in the sky, and though it felt like a storm, not a cloud could be found. Holland laid awake, staring out the window and wondering where Leonetta was at that moment.

  ***

  The night around Athanasia was still and solemn. Ardontis stood in the corner of Leonetta’s chambers and watched as she sat cross-legged on the floor, humming a fae enchantment. A blue glow surrounded her as she moved in and out of the dream world, sending a message to an unsuspecting foe. Finally, she took in a deep breath and opened her eyes, the all-white stare changing quickly back to her normal eye color. Leonetta’s shoulders relaxed, and she looked around the room, gathering her leftover strength. Ardontis moved quickly to her side, helping her up and to her bed. The magic she used drained her, and she would need to sleep to recover.

  “Is it done?” Ardontis whispered to Leonetta as she curled up in her bed.

  “It is done,” she stated, turning and looking at the Faith. “We now have our advantage.”

  Ardontis nodded before pulling the blanket over the princess and quietly leaving her chambers. Tyriad and Asphodul stood outside of the room waiting, perking up as Ardontis exited and quietly shut the door behind him. He nodded to Asphodul and the commander before motioning toward the hallway and walking away from the door. He didn’t want to bother Leonetta, as she would need her rest.

  “If I know Holland like I think I do,” the Faith stated, “we will have our two-days’ head start. Begin your planning, Tyriad. We will alert the queen as soon as she emerges tomorrow evening from her final moments of mourning.”

  Tyriad nodded before turning and heading toward the shifters’ quarters. He would need to brief his dragons and the ogres of what was to come. They would now have two days to make it to their rendezvous point before the Avalon army even packed up their belongings. It was imperative that the fae keep Osiris and his brood as far from Athanasia as possible. Their kingdom was a fortress, but if they were capable of infiltrating, all would be lost. They had to drive them back or kill them all. With Alfontus aligning with the Avalonians, Tyriad knew he had to come up with a way to get around the army of the dead he would undoubtedly bring with him. Only the queen, Leonetta, and Asphodul possessed the kind of magic that would take out the dead, and the kingdom couldn’t risk sending them to war, especially with no training. The girls argued Tyriad on this, but in the end, they agreed.

  While everyone else prepared for a fight they thought would be an easy win, Tyriad couldn’t shake the feeling that this may be harder than they thought. The royal court had been ordered to secure any distant people of the Vale in the possibility that the Avalon army were to break their ranks and head toward the castle. In the meantime, Tyriad was responsible for getting the army and the ogres up to speed and ready for the journey they would be leaving on in just one day. Tyriad stopped and looked over at the queen’s balcony. This was the last night of mourning before she would enter back into her position. Tyriad hoped she was ready for what was about to happen, more for Asphodul than for anything else.

  Chapter Eleven: Secrets and Strategies

  Holland carefully crept out of his bed, not wanting to disturb Malaya’s peaceful sleep. He dressed and grabbed an apple sitting in a bowl on the long, wooden table in the living area of the cottage. The day was young, but he knew he had to speak to Osiris before any plans continued. The army wa
s already awake and had started to look for food and other useful items around the port. Though everyone assumed the people of the harbor had left for the king’s mourning, Holland did find it strange that everything had seemed to have been left without preparation. Doors still sat open, food peppered the tables of the different houses along the path, and even the children’s toys were left lying in the streets in front of the cottages. It was reminiscent of the towns in the west realms before the Avalon army took the capital.

  The saloon was filled with soldiers who had passed out the night before from too much whiskey. The king, however, was nowhere to be found. Holland walked along the path to the docks, imagining a typical day in the port city of Vale. The fae were happy creatures, and he could only assume the port was just as prosperous and peaceful as the realm had been for centuries. Holland reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone that had been left in his pants. It was the stone Leonetta had given him, except it no longer glowed blue, and resembled more of a pebble than a stone. Just as Holland was about to toss the pebble into the water, he spied the king walking along the shimmering black beach.

  “Your Grace,” Holland shouted out as he jogged toward the king.

  “Good morning, commander,” the king stated as Holland caught up to him. “You are up early.”

  “Yes,” Holland replied, searching for a way to speak to Osiris about postponing the attack. “I see not many of our men will be moving much today.”

  “Whiskey can be a dangerous thing,” the king, replied rubbing his temples.

  “I believe it is for the better,” Holland replied. “I want to wait two days to move forward.”

  “Two days?” the King replied, stopping and looking at Holland. “I thought we were going to move as fast as possible. Where are you getting this?”

  “A dream,” Holland replied.

  “A dream of who?” the king asked suspiciously.