War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  Osiris frowned at the magical shield and signaled for his front line to emerge. Slowly, they marched to the top in a long, solid line. He held his sword high in the air, and for a moment, all stood still and quiet in anticipation. As his sword flowed downward, battle cries echoed across the fields, and the Avalon army ran forward toward the onlookers, their swords high and their spears stretched outward. Leonetta moved to the side of the hill and watched as the armies clashed. This battle was not like the one before. There were no large towers or pomp and circumstance to precede the battle; there were only men fighting men. Leonetta looked around suspiciously, wondering what Osiris had up his sleeve and where Malaya was hiding.

  The fae army rode in strong on their white steeds, striking down on the Avalon soldiers. Screams from the enemy radiated outward, while high in the sky the opposing shifters clashed in battle, lighting the sky with fire. Slowly, the Avalon soldiers met their demise at the swords of the Cascading army. The numbers diminished despite the rounds of soldiers Osiris continued to send to their deaths. But still, despite Osiris’ obvious losing status, an eerie smile stayed glued to his face. Leonetta looked around them in all directions, unsure of why he would continue to dispose of his men without retreat.

  The mounds of dead were piling up, and the Cascading soldiers could be seen standing upon them, fighting the few left standing. Leonetta watched as a dark cloud began to roll across the sky. Lightning shot from its center and thunder rumbled through the grounds. She looked down as two more lines of Avalon soldiers marched into battle. As swords clashed across the fields, a dark feeling began to creep through Leonetta’s chest. She turned and ran down the hill toward Osharus.

  “The dead King,” she screamed as thunder rumbled so loud it shook the ground.

  Osharus ran to the top of the hill and looked out as Malaya sat hovering above the troops. Her arms were high in the air, and everyone stopped mid-battle to look up at lightning shooting from her fingertips. Leonetta grabbed onto Osharus and shook her head as he attempted to lift his staff. She knew there was no magic in the realm at that moment that could completely stop Malaya from her purpose. As the ground began to tremble, they watched in horror as the dead army crested the hill behind Osiris, swords and armor adorning their skeletal remains. Osiris looked at them, slightly confused by the crest of the dead on their shields but looked back, proud of what he thought was an accomplishment.

  “Humans, fae, and all other creatures, I speak to you now,” Malaya’s voice echoed across the grasses. “Put down your weapons, and you will be spared; continue, and your life will be forfeited.”

  “Enough with the theatrics. Attack them,” Osiris screamed out.

  “Silence,” her voice echoed, changing Osiris’ face from pride to a recognition of betrayal. “Do you really think the dead would revere you? You are the great fae killer, and therefore no better than the others. Just peasants compared to the greatness of the dead King.”

  Osiris dropped his flag and dismounted his horse, grasping his sword tightly in his hand. Anger swept over him like a plague, and he stepped forward, his arms darkening. However, before he could raise his weapon in challenge, he felt a tap on the shoulder and turned quickly in agitation.

  “What?!” he barked, looking up at a large man covered in armor from head to toe.

  Leonetta stepped forward, staring at the Vale logo on his chest, unaware of who was lurking under that silver armor. They watched as the unknown soldier lifted the front of his mask, revealing the face of Osiris’ once faithful Commander. Osiris’ mouth hung open as Holland stepped toward him, plunging his sword deep into Osiris’ chest. Osiris stood, one hand on the intrusion, his face staring deep into Holland’s eyes.

  “You feared death for so long,” Holland whispered. “But now your fate will be worse than you could ever imagine.”

  Holland pulled the sword from Osiris’ chest and held it high in the air. It was the lost sword of the necromancer. Anyone pierced by this sword was doomed to walk the eternal depths of hell, serving in the dead army any time they were called upon. No rest ever found these creatures, and Osiris’ recognition and fear spread quickly across his face. Holland grabbed Osiris by the collar and threw him into the lines of the dead army, watching as they quickly carried him away, his screams echoing through the dark.

  “No,” Malaya screamed angrily as she flew quickly toward Holland. “I already killed you once, fool.”

  “I don’t think so,” Leonetta stated, shooting magic from her hands, knocking Malaya off course.

  “You will all perish,” Malaya laughed, pulling her cloak back and revealing her bare belly, rounded by the baby that grew inside.

  The dead army ran forward, mowing through the soldiers, regardless of their allegiance. Their fiery red swords cut through the soldiers like a hot knife through butter, leaving their bodies strewn across the field. Tyriad took off toward the sky, hoping to find a quick alliance with the leaderless Avalon shifter army. Leonetta backed up toward Osharus and watched in horror as Malaya began striking down soldiers from the sky, turning them into dust with her violent bolts of lightning. Osharus growled as he watched his army become nothing more than remnants of men. He turned quickly toward the Fortune, looking for King Ebin and his men, but where the mer-army started the battle was nothing but a raging sea. The mer-King had abandoned him after centuries of alliance.

  Georges dodged the bolts of lightning, struggling through the ashes of his soldiers, his magic not strong enough to revive the smoldered army. Tears ran down his face as he watched men scream out, looking to him for comfort. But on this day, Georges had no comfort to give. As if time were slowing, Georges stopped and watched as the Cascading army fell in numbers faster than he could count. The lightning crashed down as the pregnant Queen of the dead laughed evilly, floating high in the sky. Tyriad swooped toward her again and again, trying to dislodge her placement, but found no direct path around the swirling storms that seemed to be protecting her from everyone else.

  Osharus grasped his staff and walked to the top of the hill, raising it high in the air and letting it hit the ground, a wave of white light washing over the fields. As the light hit the soldiers, they disappeared, leaving nothing but dust blowing in the grasses. He then turned to Malaya who had looked down with a pout at the empty field. She smiled and rolled a ball of lightning in her palms. Osharus looked around quickly, muttering a spell. He aimed his staff toward Malaya and plunged it in the ground, causing a beam of protection to shoot upward. He sped across the grounds so fast that only a trail of dust could be seen. He grabbed Georges, Leonetta, and Holland, and sped back toward the staff. Just as his hand touched the staff, Malaya released her ball of energy. It spread quickly like a blanket, dissolving everything in its path. She put her arms up over her eyes as the energy hit the staff, exploding light across the fields.

  As the light receded, she looked down, expecting to see nothing more than crowns laying in the dust. She floated downward, touching her feet to the earth and clenched her teeth in anger as all that stood was the wizard’s staff. She reached forward carefully and placed her finger on the stone. As if the staff knew it was being touched by evil, it disintegrated, falling to the ground.

  “No,” Malaya whispered in anger. “Nooooooooo!”

  Malaya looked around, not understanding where the great wizard could have gone without his staff. She lifted into the air and flew through the castle, burning rooms one by one. The castle was completely empty, not even servants were left. She flew down through the port, but at the sound of the war, the residents had all fled. She flew over the inlet, looking down for the golden tips of the mer-castle. When she found it, she dove down into the ocean, using her magic to cloak her from choking. She swam through the darkened, abandoned town. Everyone had left.

  She reemerged from the sea, setting herself down on the docks, water running from head to foot. Her belly rumbled, and the creature inside twisted and turned in anger. Malaya looked forward as clouds began
to shift, and Ghede appeared before her. He clapped his hands and walked toward Malaya, a condescending look on his face.

  “It seems you managed to kill off a few soldiers,” Ghede said quietly. “And somehow, you couldn’t even make sure that twit Holland had really died. Look where it has left you – without a King to control, the disappearance of the great wizards, and now they know of our child.”

  “Your Grace,” Malaya reached out, trying to explain, “I didn’t know…”

  “Tsk, tsk, Malaya,” Ghede said, silencing her. “A Queen never makes excuses for her failures, she simply takes her punishment.”

  Malaya’s face dropped, and fear spread over her as the dead King began to step toward her. She put her arms up in protection as he raced forward and teleported her back to the mountain lair, her screams shrieking through the depths of the volcano. Across the quiet port, nothing living moved, and the dust of those brave soldiers began to mix with the downpour of rain, soaking into the soil, washing away all remnants of this bloody battle.

  Chapter Seventeen: Death and the Ogre

  Asphodul sat quietly in the Throne Room, having let her staff go for the day, wanting silence. She could not tap into the battle she knew raged forward, and the feeling of the dead King’s movements sent fear through her heart. Though the storms raged over the Cascading Seas, the sun shined down on the castle of the Vale. From the outside, you could barely tell that a battle raged just on the other side of the east realms. However, on the inside of the Vale castle, an eerie silence blew through the halls.

  The fae Queen shifted in her throne, unable to find anything to keep her mind still, so she gave into the feeling and allowed herself to sit quietly, mulling the impending news over in her head. She stood, wiped her sweaty palms down her dress, and took a step forward, stopping abruptly as the ground shimmied under her feet. She looked around cautiously, attempting to sense what was approaching. The shaking stopped, and a bright light flashed through the room. Asphodul put her hands over her face to shield her eyes.

  As the light faded, Asphodul looked to the center of the room. Aralea stood clutching on to Georges, Leonetta, and Holland. It took Asphodul several moments to realize they had teleported to her. Their faces showed a look of defeat, and their bodies were covered in dark ash. Aralea, having been picked up from the castle before her father teleported them to the Vale, released her grip on Georges and looked around. Leonetta stood, her face to the ground, not wanting to look her sister in the eyes.

  “Where is Tyriad?” Asphodul whispered, walking slowly toward the group. No one answered. “I said, where is Tyriad?”

  Asphodul’s pace picked up to a run, and she reached Leonetta, wrapping her hands around her shoulders and shaking her. Leonetta looked up slowly, a tear falling from her eye. Asphodul grasped on tighter to her shoulders.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “The last I saw, he was flying off to try to align the lasting shifters. Everyone else is dead. The mer-people betrayed us in cowardice.”

  “Is he alive? Is he dead? How could you leave with the fae King?” Asphodul asked frantically.

  “Sister,” Leonetta said calmly, “if we had not left, we would all be dead.”

  “Father!” Aralea screamed, turning everyone’s attention to the man in a heap on the floor.

  Aralea ran her hands over her father’s now gray hair as he began to lift himself from the ground. Leonetta covered her mouth in shock as the hands that emerged were wrinkled and aged. Osharus had lost his staff and, with it, all his power. His youth disappeared as he teleported from the grounds, leaving the wrinkled face and white hair of a very old man. Asphodul took a deep breath and walked over to Osharus.

  “Great Wizard,” she said with a kind smile, “you have served your kingdom and all of the east realms with honor and dignity.”

  “He needs to rest,” Aralea said, choking back tears.

  Without his staff and powers, Osharus’ body would soon give out. The great wizard had ruled the east realms for centuries, keeping his youth intact through his magic. Now, as the sun reached high into the afternoon sky, he shuffled through the castle halls to lay himself to rest. His life was fleeting, and in an effort to save the others, he made a conscious choice to leave behind the only thing that would keep him from death’s door.

  As they walked through the marble halls toward a comforting death, Osharus paused and stared out into the garden where soldiers roamed and tended to the wounded. His eyes sparkled as they always had, despite his wrinkled and aged appearance. He had saved more than his future kingdom; he had saved the lives of hundreds of his soldiers. Aralea gasped at the thought of so many men who had perished. The soldiers, hearing the tearful surprise from Aralea, turned toward the aged King, standing only a moment before taking a knee and bowing in reverence. Shivers shot down Leonetta’s spine at the sight of so many paying homages to the oldest man to walk the halls of the Vale. Even the few Avalon soldiers looking around the garden took a knee in homage.

  Asphodul pulled the covers up on Osharus and kissed his forehead, smiling at his kind heart. The sheer curtains of his bed blew feverishly around from the breeze coming off the gorge. The smell of lavender and rose pierced the King’s senses, and he smiled, remembering the lengths he went to make sure the salty air never entered his chambers. Asphodul sent the staff from the room and stood quietly next to Leonetta in the corner, grasping her hand tightly. Georges stepped forward and bowed to Osharus.

  “Being a father to not only a kingdom, but also a child can be difficult,” Osharus said breathlessly. “Lead my kingdom as if all its people are your children.”

  “Yes, Father,” Georges replied, calling Osharus Father for the first time ever.

  Georges bowed and stepped back, allowing his wife to sit on the edge of the bed. Aralea smiled down at her father, tears flowing from her eyes. He reached up and touched her cheek, and she closed her eyes, remembering all the comfort he had given her.

  “I have lived more lives than any one man could ever hope for,” he whispered, his strength lessening by the second. “I can now join your mother, knowing I did my best to keep her daughter safe and loved.”

  “And you did so well, Father,” Aralea cried. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, my sweet child,” he said, patting her belly and smiling.

  Osharus reached his arm and pointed to the back where Leonetta stood. She smiled and patted her sister’s hand before walking forward. Aralea stood and hugged Leonetta, moving to the side to allow her father to speak to her.

  “A great war is upon us,” he choked and gasped. “Never have we seen an enemy so powerful. Remember your heart, dear Leonetta. Don’t let these days be the last.”

  “I will do everything in my power,” she whispered, holding his hand tightly.

  Rays of light beamed through the open window and fell across Osharus’ face. He closed his eyes and let the warm sun warm his aged cheeks one last time. Under the peaceful autumn sunlight, Osharus took his last breath, releasing his soul to the gods. His family stood watching as centuries of memories, wars, and valor parted the earth one last time.

  Asphodul pulled the silken sheet over the passed King of the Cascading Seas and turned to Aralea. She pulled her close, sending her magic deep inside, helping Aralea to be at peace. She kissed the now Queen of the Cascading Seas on the cheek and walked from the room. As her tiny feet tapped the marble floors, she pressed her hand to her stomach and wept quietly. The oldest King was gone to dance in the fields of the spirit world with her mother and father. Asphodul stopped after she rounded the corner into the throne room, placing her hand on the throne and allowing the sorrow to overcome her. She had seen too much death, and there was no stopping in sight.

  “I hope you do not weep for me,” a voice said from out in the hall.

  Asphodul sniffled and wiped her tears. She looked up at Tyriad standing, grasping his side, and limping toward her. She gasped and raced down the stairs, throwing herself against
her husband and squeezing him tightly. He flinched but laid his arm against her back, kissing the top of her forehead.

  “I feared the worst,” Asphodul whispered.

  “Now come on, Princess,” he smiled. “You know I’m tougher than that.”

  “Queen,” she laughed. “And you do seem to have a way of getting out of tight spaces.”

  “Ha!” Tyriad laughed, grabbing his side.

  “You’re injured,” Asphodul replied, looking down at his wounds. “I can fix that.”

  “Just a scratch, my dear,” he smiled. “My dragon is healing me as we speak. It’s not fae magic, but it’s pretty good stuff.”

  Leonetta smiled as she stood hidden around the corner, watching her sister reunited with her love. She took a deep breath and turned, walking out onto the balcony facing the gardens. Holland was standing, looking out over the flowers. He turned and looked as Leonetta walked up beside him and put her hands on the railings.

  “It surely is a beautiful garden,” he stated, smiling at Leonetta. “But I think it is missing something.”

  “I can fix that,” Leonetta giggled as she wove her hand in the air and watched her magic at work.

  Slowly, a small, thatched promenade appeared in the back corner of the garden. Holland watched in wonder as vines crept from the walls of the castle and wrapped themselves around the pagoda, creating sides and a door. Yellow flowers danced through the air, landing on top of the building and springing to life, creating their own miniature plants. As Leonetta watched the recreation of her mother’s building from Avalon appear, her eyes turned toward the sky. Dark clouds rolled overhead, and thunder rumbled.

  “War is here,” she whispered. “The fate of the east realms lies in our hands.”

  ***

  Deep in the forests, just off the edge of the Cascading realm, a small bonfire was lit. At first glance, it looked as if the space had been abandoned, but as the moon broke through the clouds, Pike removed his hood, appearing in the wooded area. The shield of his cloak had helped him stay hidden from the shifters combing the area. He pushed his stick into the ashes, stoking the fire before hanging the remnants of a rabbit over the flames. The canopy of the trees allowed Pike to disrobe and freely walk around without the worry of being seen.