War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  “And how do you plan to spy on those that have cast you aside?” the King asked, leaning back in his chair.

  “If they believe I have my powers once again, then they will retake me into the inner circle. Necromancers are thought of as very useful,” she stated.

  “And if we agree, you will report all information? You will betray the man that loved you?” the King asked as he stood and walked over to Malaya.

  “My heart is nothing more than an empty hole,” Malaya spoke emotionless. “I will cut his throat if it pleases you.”

  “Very well,” the King stated, sitting back down in his chair. “You will be given an amulet that produces these powers. If you betray us, the amulet will be the death of you.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Malaya said bowing. Her eyes met Aralea’s once again before she turned and walked from the room.

  “Father,” Aralea looked to the King, “I don’t trust her. There is something about her.”

  “She is the enemy,” the King replied. “But she is the best option for us right now. Unless you want to use your magic to look into Osiris.”

  “I have been struggling with my gifts recently,” Aralea stated as she attempted to come up with a convincing lie. “There has been so much…I think I am just exhausted.”

  “Me too, my dear,” the King replied, laying a hand over hers. “This is why we are going to use the girl.”

  The four laid out the details for Malaya before ending their meeting. The King and his kin left for dinner, while Dragor moved back toward his chambers. As he approached his bedroom, he noticed the door was slightly ajar. He stopped and slowly pulled his knife from his side. Carefully, he opened his door and stepped inside, looking around in the darkened space. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, and there was little light left. As he took a step toward the window, the door slammed behind him, and Malaya’s laughter rang out.

  She ran toward Dragor at full speed and leaped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. He frowned at her boldness which only made her smile bigger. She reached up and ran her fingers down the side of his large, tattooed cheek. He was a dragon shifter but hailed from the islands even further north. His skin was tan year-round, and his human size would rival any man.

  “You did well, my sweet,” Malaya whispered. “It’s only a matter of time until we have what we came for.”

  “You need to be more careful,” Dragor grumbled as he set her down on her feet. “Someone could have seen you come in here. You will get us both killed.”

  “Oh, stop worrying,” she said coyly as she leaned against the wall and fumbled with the necklace around her neck. “The only person I think I’ll have issue with is that sniveling little Princess, Aralea. She doesn’t trust me.”

  “She is wise,” Dragor stated, holding back a smile. “But you did well. The King trusts me, and therefore will trust you.”

  “Good,” Aralea said, walking back toward Dragor. “Then let’s celebrate.”

  She raised her eyebrows and pushed Dragor back into the shadows of the bedroom.

  The storm boomed out the window, and the sea rolled.

  Chapter Three: Faith

  Osiris stood staring at himself in the mirror on the wall of the dining room in the cottage he had called home for two moon’s cycles. His once dark brown hair had begun to turn wintery white, and the wrinkles creased across his forehead showed his mortality. Osiris, as a human, had an obsession with immortality and the thought of the fae and the wizards’ long lives enraged him. When he was a young King, Osiris envied the fae, but as his bitterness grew, they became reminders of his dead wives and his own inability to reign forever.

  The war had taken a toll on everyone, and even the Avalon dragon shifter Commander, Holland, just barely out of his youth, was showing weathered eyes and darkened features. Often, a dragon’s human body would age quicker with the wear and tear the dragon took, and Holland’s had seen many injuries. Beyond that, his broken love for the fae Princess, Leonetta, and his torrid affair with Malaya had darkened his heart to the point where those who knew him before would no longer recognize the once cheery-eyed shifter.

  Vale’s port city was beginning to show the attrition of a foreign army. Trash cluttered the streets, and bottles floated at the surf’s edges. Mud and stain covered the wooden piers where there once was a bustling trade. No one came near the port from the other realms, and Asphodul had sent a group of Wild Dragons, those that had helped Leonetta return to the Vale, to watch the edge of the port city to make sure there was no movement toward the Vale’s capital. Between the waning goods for the army and the presence of their enemy, Osiris knew it was time to move on toward their next target, the port city of Edann.

  Osiris turned from his reflection with a sigh and strapped his sword around his waist. He could hear the seagulls outside and knew the sun must be somewhere in the sky. The storms had been hitting them hard for days, and the ships had acquired a bit of damage from ramming into the pier over and over again. However, the ships were the last thing on the King’s mind; he was more concerned with where the most strategic path would be for taking the east realms. Holland hadn’t been much help since the battle, having sustained a severe injury and falling into a dark depression. Osiris hadn’t felt alone in a long time, but sitting outside his shanty, taking in the waves of Fortune, he longed for the days where his castle was full and life was comfortable.

  Down the sparkling black sands was the cottage Holland and Malaya had picked when first arriving in the Vale. They had expressed their love and made plans to marry in the now silent and dirty house at the waves. Holland sat at the top of the steps, sharpening an arrow with his knife, his red beard overgrown and wild, and his hair now pulled back in a long ponytail. He squinted into the bright sun as the clouds parted and winced at the residual pain in his shoulder. Osiris’ crown sparkled across the beach and Holland watched the old King wander up the pier and stand at the edge of the sea. He slipped his knife into the pouch on his side and threw the arrow to the side as he held on to the railings and pulled himself to his feet.

  With each dusty step, Holland’s muscles relaxed, and the pain began to subside. He reached the pier and waited as Osiris turned and walked toward him. He bowed his head to the King, and Osiris nodded back, turning to stand beside Holland and look out at the ocean. They stood silent for a moment and watched as a Wild Dragon flew overhead, snuffing proudly, smoke billowing from his nostrils.

  “We should think about our next moves,” Holland stated quietly. “Things have gotten too quiet here.”

  “The ports–”

  The King stopped as Holland raised his hand, a look of suspicion crossing his face. Osiris followed Holland’s gaze out into the ocean and watched as the tail of a mermaid flipped and disappeared under the surface.

  “I thought they were nothing more than fairytales,” Holland said, surprised. “They must be working with King Ebin at the Piers. Let’s move this discussion inside; you don’t know who may be listening.”

  “I might have laughed at your paranoia before, but now I find it a great asset,” the King replied as he turned and walked toward the now barren saloon.

  “You can never be too careful,” Holland replied as he glanced over at Malaya walking through the streets. “Everyone has something to gain.”

  Malaya met Holland’s gaze and grasped at the amulet around her neck before pulling the hood of her cape up and looking away quickly. The two men retreated into the saloon and poured the last of the whiskey into two glasses. Holland took his straight and fast, while the King sipped at his drink.

  “The men have been training like crazy,” Holland stated. “Only thing is, we still don’t have a solid plan. The Wild get closer every day, and with autumn approaching, we need to make a move. Before we know it, the harsh winter of the east will be upon us.”

  “We lost a lot in the battle and have no way to replenish our troops,” the King replied. “Our necromancers are either dead or good
as dead.”

  Holland looked down at his empty glass at the thought of Malaya, and her injuries flashed through his head. She had pushed him away, and in his own despair and own pain, he had gladly walked away. The pain still remained, and every time he thought of finding comfort in the arms of a woman, his chest ached. Two women had beat him down, leaving him with nothing more than a thirst for battle. He set his glass down on the bar and paused, his thoughts shifting to the dust falling from the ceiling. The ground began to shake, knocking bottles from the shelves around them. The King grabbed on to the bar as the eerie sound of the dead echoed from outside the saloon.

  Holland jumped up from his stool and unsheathed his sword, holding it in the left hand since his right was no longer useful. The two men stood frozen, unknowing of what was approaching outside. The swinging doors of the building blew off their hinges and slid across the sandy floor, stopping at Holland’s feet. He watched as the remnants of dead sailors began to march through the parlor opening and stop, leaving a walkway in the middle. Slowly, Malaya walked up the pathway and into the building, holding her amulet and whispering the incantation. She stopped and pulled her hood down, smiling slightly at the fright on the King’s face.

  “Nearly dead may not be accurate,” she stated.

  Holland’s sword lowered to the ground, and the King stepped forward, a look of awe on his face. Osiris slowly stepped forward and stood in front of one of the dead soldiers. Malaya snapped her fingers, and the King jumped slightly as the army of the dead popped to attention. A strange sound that Holland hadn’t heard in weeks shot from the King’s belly. He was laughing.

  “Well done, young lady,” he bellowed. “Should I ask how or leave it alone?”

  “Better to let this one lay,” Malaya said, chuckling, her eyes still fixed on Holland.

  “It looks like we have the answer to the problem,” the King said, looking at Holland. “Make a plan. We leave in three days.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” he stuttered, watching as the King walked from the saloon and out into the sun.

  Malaya clapped her hands, and the army receded back to the ocean. She kept her eyes locked on Holland and moved forward, hiding a small smirk. He put his sword back into its covering and stepped forward to meet her.

  “Where did you go?” he asked.

  “I didn’t think you would even notice I was gone,” she replied.

  “The house isn’t the same,” he said, looking down at the ground. “I can’t even sleep in there anymore.”

  “Why don’t we go back, fix some food, and take a flight out away from all of this,” she said, pushing her hand against his chest. “We can talk. Figure it out.”

  “Sounds perfect. I need to get these wounds healed anyway, and some time as a dragon will do just that,” Holland replied with a sense of calm forming in his chest.

  The two walked slowly next to each other back across the beach and to the house. Malaya grabbed a satchel and filled it with the fruit and bread that was left and turned to the door. Holland was out on the beach, already shifted into his dragon, stretching his wings. Malaya smiled as she climbed onto his back and the two took to the sky, soaring low over the beach. Holland followed the coast, wanting to stay near the surf, comforted by Malaya’s return. She seemed like the girl he had met long ago on the steps of the castle in Avalon.

  After about an hour, Holland touched down on the beach and allowed Malaya to climb down before shifting back into his human form, his arm feeling better than ever. He took the lightweight cloth shirt from Malaya’s bag and pulled it over his head. The waves lapped against the shore, and Holland smiled as Malaya threw a blanket up in the air and flapped it until it smoothed out over the sand. She sat down, untying the cape from her neck and letting it fall back. Though it was almost fall, the air was warm, and the breeze was light.

  Holland and Malaya sat and talked as the day wore on, eating and laughing under the hot sun. They watched as the sky began to change colors with approaching night and found comfort in each other’s arms under the hues of orange and pink. As the stars began to shimmer above them, Holland fell asleep with Malaya tight in his arms. The sounds of the waves played like a lullaby in his ears, and the world felt right once again. A light breeze blew across the beach, stirring Holland from his dreams. He reached over to pull Malaya closer but found an empty blanket. He rubbed his eyes and sat up from the quilt, finding the dark-haired goddess standing under the shining moon at the edge of the waves.

  Holland smiled and pulled himself up, dusting the sand from his chest. He pulled on his leather pants and tied the laces loosely. The sand was cold beneath his feet, and the specks of broken shells sparkled like glitter under the bright moon. He approached Malaya and wrapped his hands around her waist, taking in the smell of her hair. She turned slowly to face him, the light showing her pale blue eyes. A small tear ran down her cheek as she gazed into his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she began to repeat a short enchantment. Holland looked at her curiously and ran his hand over the tear.

  “For what?” he asked.

  Malaya opened her eyes once more and looked deeply into Holland’s as she reached her arm forward and drove a dagger deep into his belly. Holland’s eyes glazed a bit, and his mouth fell open. He looked down, his hand touching hers as she let go of the knife and pulled back, leaving it plunged into his stomach. He ran his shaking hand across the stones that sparkled on the handle before looking back at Malaya. He tried to change into his dragon, but something was keeping him human. Tears flowed from her eyes, and she ran forward, grabbing the blanket from the sand and turning back to watch Holland fall to his knees.

  Holland grasped the sand in his fists and crawled in a circle, trying to find Malaya’s face once again. He moved forward, the pain beginning to go through his stomach and into his chest. As blood began to seep from the wound, Holland leaned back, took a deep breath, and pulled the dagger from his belly. He tossed it to the side and looked up as a familiar voice rang out in the darkness. It was Alfontus, the necromancer that had begun the war with the fae.

  “Sister, you’ve done well,” Alfontus whispered, turning toward Holland. “You, however, are a silly little man. Taken down by love. That seems to be your MO.”

  “You…you’re…” Holland stuttered.

  “Dead? Yes, it takes a bit more than a fall to kill a necromancer, my boy,” Alfontus chuckled.

  “Alfontus, I must get back,” Malaya hissed. “I can’t watch him die.”

  “Yes, of course, my sweet sister. You have been through enough,” Alfontus said, turning to Malaya and hugging her tightly. “There is a dragon over the hill. Take him back, and you know what to do from there.”

  The pain shook through Holland’s body, and he fell over on his side, clutching the wound tightly. Warm blood spilled through his hands, and Holland moved his gaze from Malaya disappearing over the hill to the shining stars in the sky. He breathed heavily, trying to focus his pain. Slowly, darkness began to take over, and as his eyes closed, he heard Alfontus’ voice.

  “Malaya is a Queen, and that is where I will get her,” Alfontus’ voice stated as it faded out in Holland’s head.

  Malaya had the shifter drop her just out of sight of the cottage and walked the rest of the way up the beach. She paused momentarily as she crested the hill and found Osiris sitting leisurely on the porch. She took a deep breath and moved toward the cottage.

  “Your Grace, what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, bowing.

  “I came for Holland,” he said, looking around. “He is not with you?”

  “I know I should have come to you first thing, but I couldn’t take the pain,” Malaya stated, bursting into tears.

  “My dear girl, what happened?” the King asked, putting his hand on her shoulder for as much comfort as he could muster.

  “When we got back, Holland told me his love for Leonetta was too strong,” she pushed her tears further. “He has left u
s. He has gone back to her.”

  “What?!” the King raged. “I don’t believe it! There has to be another explanation!”

  Malaya dried her fake tears on her cape and watched the King turn to look out at the ocean. She took a deep breath and stepped forward, turning to Osiris. Malaya laid her hand on his shoulder carefully and watched as his eyes turned to hers.

  “We must be strong,” she stated emotionless. “He had lost his edge. Now, Your Grace, I pray by the gods you put your faith in me.”

  Chapter Four: Ceremonies and Surprises

  Pike waited nervously at the rock in the inlet for Shayla to arrive. It had been several days since he had last seen her, but had sent word for her to meet him there when she was done with her work at the port. Pike had spent the entire morning relaying messages back and forth to King Osharus as the spies his father sent to the Vale returned with some fascinating information. With this information came the confirmation that war would soon be upon them, and Pike’s agreement with the Wizard King would happen any day now.

  The feel of the sun from the last couple of days was just a memory as the seas began to pick up strength and storms began to blow into the port. Pike looked up as Shayla climbed over the fallen trees at the beach’s edge and tiptoed down the stone path onto the stone island. She smiled gleefully at the sight of her love and rushed to touch his salty cheeks. The worry she felt in her chest from the talk of war within the kingdom faded as she felt the embrace of her Prince. The two held tight to each other before Pike released her and moved back to look at her face.

  “I’m sorry it has been so long,” he cooed. “There have been a lot of happenings inside the castle.”

  “I’ve heard a rumor,” she said, her face turning from happiness to worry. “Is it true that Osiris is planning to move upon us?”

  “My sweet, you should not be worrying yourself with talks of war,” Pike said, running his hand down her cheek. “You should be worried more about finding us a beautiful cottage to live in.”