War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  “It will show us to Malaya,” she whispered. “Only we will be able to see it.”

  “Alright,” Pike said pulling his hood back up. “Then let’s go.”

  Helena nodded at Pike and followed him as he opened the door and peeked out around the corner. The coast was clear and they moved quickly, trying to keep up with the orb. As they moved down the long corridors, stopping only momentarily to move out of the way of the large orcs dragging weapons down the stone halls, they looked up at the orb and saw that it was hovering right outside of a hallway. Once the orcs had passed they took off after the orb, shifting and moving down a dark damp passageway, too small for any orc to get down. The walls were slimy and the air was a bit cooler than the main one. Pike glanced over at Helena, fearful it was a trick designed by Ghede and stopped suddenly as the orb hovered at the bottom of a stairwell.

  “The orb cannot pass,” Helena said looking up the stairwell. “That means we cannot either.”

  “So it has led us to a dead end?” Pike was irritated.

  “No,” Helena said squinting her eyes and looking up at a carving on the wall. “It is a riddle. We must solve the riddle to pass safely. Strange, I did not know Ghede to be a man of riddles.”

  “He is not,” Pike replied. “This is the old passageway to the burial place of the Dead King. It leads to the room he was sent back to hell in. The Kings put this here to allow only those true of heart to pass through.”

  “But why would they come back here?”

  “There was an abundance of collected magic in that place and could be harnessed by the magical King’s and Queen’s for their own liking. How do you think the lands became so beautiful, peaceful and abundant?” Pike explained what he learned from his father.

  “How do you, as a mortal, well, a mortal species, know so much about this?” Helena tilted her head curiously.

  “As a mortal species, we found it important to always understand our history. Mer-People were not blessed with immortal rulers that held the knowledge in their chests. We had to rely on the written text,” Pike explained.

  “That seems dangerous,” Helena replied. “Man has a tendency to write history through their eyes and with their pride.”

  “Which is why we had historians of other species write our texts,” Pike replied staring up at the etching on the wall. “But we can discuss this later. We need to get through these traps.”

  “Right,” Helena said stepping forward and blowing the dust from the wall. She read the script out loud:

  A Fae’s body is but a cast, holding the magic of long since past.

  Though they seem to live forever, a Fae divine can find the lever.

  When their bodies no longer run, their magic bursts upon what rung?”

  “This is an impossible riddle for me,” Pike said angrily. “I know very little about the Fae.”

  “But I know very much,” Helena whispered. “I don’t understand what they mean by rungs.”

  “Rungs,” Pike said rolling it over in his mind. “Clocks. The Fae clocks have rungs not hands, like a tree.”

  “And the Fae body will only burst to ash at dusk,” Helena replied.

  “Dust is between five and six in this realm,” Pike said walking back over to the doorway. “Wait, look, this stairwell, it has numbers.”

  “That’s it,” Helena said wide-eyed. “We have to hit that small piece of stone between the fifth and sixth step.”

  “Well, that seems like a plan if you are a frog,” Pike said with irritation. “I’ll go first.”

  Pike pulled his hood down and reached his arms down to grab onto the railing on both sides of the stairwell. He looked over at Helena and took in a deep breath as he put his feet on the walls under the railing and pulled himself upward. Helena held her breath as his hands quivered and his feet slipped from the wet walls. Finally, he reached the stone perch.

  “Now what?” Pike looked back at Helena who shrugged. He put his foot on the the seventh step and tapped it, realizing that it was solid. “I think we can walk up from here.”

  Pike ran up the steps to the top and turned back, nodding at Helena. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, concentrating for a moment. She stepped backward several steps before catapulting forward and leaping upward through the air. Her body flew as if it were weightless and she landed on the stone. She looked up and smiled as her heel slipped off, crumbling the step around the stone. She reached out and grabbed the railing looking down and gasping as the hole opened up to a plunging fall. Below sat a river of hot bubbling lava. Helena turned her eyes back toward Pike and pulled herself upward, groaning at the strength it took. Finally, she was firmly planted on the stone and she chuckled, running forward up to meet Pike.

  They sped off after the glowing orb until they reached another stopping point. Pike slammed his hands against the wall in frustration. They didn’t have time for these games. In front of them is an empty corridor but the light would not go down. Helena and Pike searched the walls around them but found no riddle. Pike leaned against the wall and looked down breathlessly at his feet. He stepped back realizing the next riddle was etched in the floor beneath them.

  The Mer-Man’s breast is strong and full but his real power comes from Jewel.

  She flutters deep below the surf, bringing faith and prosperity in girth.

  Upon her crown sit five rubies still but on her tail no diamonds bill.

  With magic surging from her hands,

  Where does this power build its bands?

  “I know nothing about your people,” Helena said shaking her head.

  “Jewel is the Goddess of the sea,” Pike said pacing and thinking out loud. “She is the entity that brings the Mer-People prosperity. It is told that her magic comes from the fins up her back. But how many?”

  Pike seems to be going over things in his head, and Helena attempts to stand patiently waiting. She could feel the birth of the Dead King’s child coming closer but she knew if she pushed Pike he would only respond in frustration. She took in a deep breath and looked down the dark corridor.

  “There are four clusters of scales,” he said out loud. “They sit in groups. The first is four. The second is six. The third is three, and the fourth is five.”

  “So, four, six, three, five,” Helena repeated walking back to the doorway. “Look, there are instructions on the walls next to the numbered tiles on the ground.”

  Helena put her hand up and stepped onto the tile that had the number four etched in it. There was an arrow pointing down. Pike looked up at the ceiling as she stood contemplating the arrow. He followed a rope over to the edge and his eyes met with the silvery blade of a large swinging ax. As it clicked loose from the weight of her on the stone, Pike yelled out.

  “Duck,” he screamed.

  Helena looked over and gasped, falling to the ground and closing her eyes. She laid there as the ax swung back and forth until coming to a stop. She got up and dusted her hands off, shaking her head. She stepped forward onto the six and jumped high as the arrow asked. As her feet left the ground a barrage of arrows flew from one side of the hall to the other, bouncing off the stone walls and clinking to the floor. She took in a deep breath and shook her head, realizing that the three had no arrow. She stepped on the stone and looked up as a boulder attached to a rope clicked free. He jumped forward, rolling across the floor, and watched as the boulder smashed into the ground. She looked down at the final tile, which she was now on top of, her eyes went wide as darts shot out of the wall above her head, striking the wall and sizzling where their poison leaked out. Helena crawled the rest of the way to the other end of the hall and sat panting, waiting for Pike.

  He carefully moved through the room, not in any harm since she had set off the traps. When he approached her he smiled, reaching his hand down and helping her to her feet. She shook her head and laughed quietly at the hell they had gotten themselves into.

  “Well, at least it's almost over,” Pike chuckled. Helena smiled and t
urned toward the orb, freezing in her tracks.

  “That’s one way to put it,” she said with wide eyes.

  Pike followed her gaze forward and grasped the butt of his sword, his eye staring directly into the face of the largest dragon he had ever seen. The beast was asleep and smoke billowed from its nostrils. There were no chains holding it in place, no spells, keeping it where it lay. Instead, this dragon was there on its own accord. It was the keeper of the Dead, something they thought only existed in fables. The dragons white sparkling scales shimmered in the light of the orb and slowly the beast’s eyes began to open. The yellow balls focused in on Helena and Pike and immediately it’s belly began to glow red.

  “Move,” Helena shouted, shoving Pike to the side and jumping to the other side as fire shot from the dragon’s throat.

  “You are not welcome here,” the dragon bellowed, pulling itself to its feet.

  “We have come to save the realm from the Dead King,” Pike said rolling across the floor to where Helena was standing.

  “You lie,” the dragon shouted, barely missing the two with another stream of fire.

  Pike ran across the hall but found his feet tangled in the dragon’s tail. He tripped and fell, bringing the beast’s attention to him. The dragon turned and held Pike down with his tail, lifting his claw high in the air.

  “You will pay the ultimate price, enemy,” the dragon said triumphantly as his claw swung down toward Pike.

  “No,” Helena screamed shielding herself against the wall.

  Pike closed his eyes tightly and grasped his sword, feeling the warmth of the tail beneath him. He waited for what seemed like forever to feel the claws of the beast strike against his skin. When he did not, he opened his eyes and looked up. The dragon sat staring at him, his claw moving the old tattered cloak on his shoulders to reveal the wolf’s cloak. Suddenly the dragon released his grip and bowed his head.

  “I did not realize,” the beast said. “Please forgive me, Wolf King.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “I know of the prophecy,” he replied.

  “Who are you?” Helena walked from shadows light on her feet.

  “Barimus,” he replied. “King of the Wild. I was tasked with protecting the sanctuary.”

  “But the Dead King is back,” Pike replied.

  “Yes, but I was unable to leave until you arrived. I am at your service great warrior,” he said bowing.

  “We need to get to the Queen,” Pike said, holding the butt of his sword.

  “Follow me,” Barimus replied. “I’m afraid you may be out of time.”

  Chapter Four: The King Of The Wooden Throne

  Far across the land and sea, sits an island not much larger than the Broome Isles. It is lush and green with forests stretching from the edge of the white sand beaches to the other. Large cliffs catapult into the heavens, treacherous turns and twist of land crumble to the forest bed, and old abandoned homes sit intertwined with roots and vegetation. Through the rocky stumbled stairs and across the overgrown remnants of a garden once tilled, sits the looming stone castle of Arbitress. The gates are hinged with long steel rods and the doors themselves are carved from the trees of the forest. Beneath the years of weathered wear, ornate carvings of a world since passed are etched into the wooden slats. Though the pictures portrayed show a city of prosperity, what is left tells another story.

  Through the doors of the castle and across the halls made of strong wooden bark, sits the throne room, the only place still glistening with life. The hall sits mostly empty, tables turned on their sides, dishes broken in pieces across the floors, and linens still stained with the red wine of the last soldier’s dinner. At the head of the hall sits a throne made of wooden branches, rotting vines, and slatted planks of the trees of Arbitress. Upon that throne is a weathered man, his beard short and gray, his eyes following suit. He sits, day after day, staring out the hall doors and onto the clouds passing by the castle gates. There is no patter of servant's feet, there is no gardening or maintenance, just the deep breaths of a King fastened to his throne, entranced by his immortal ability, lost in the pain of his memories.

  King Nekane, long before the arrival of the Dead King from long ago, ruled Arbitress with a kind and loving hand. He was a human, complete and happy with his short rule compared to the creatures of the far away realms. He found death to be the greatest honor of life and something to enter into with pride and valour. His people lived throughout the forest trees, collecting the harvests of the warm island soil, dancing in the sands of the lands, and living a meager but prosperous life. There was no strife or turmoil and King Nekane shared his throne with his beautiful wife, Queen Aggie and their two children. They lived detached from the chaos of the main world, concerned only with their existence and driven to continue their prosperity for centuries to come.

  However, it was a warm rainy day when the King accepted a visitor from the far off realms. It was the King of the Fae, who had come to discuss the arrival of a creature darker than anything Nekane had ever imagined. At first, he did not see how it concerned him, but after hearing that if the Dead King were to prosper, all his people would be lost, he stood valiantly in front of his wooden throne and vowed to help in any way he could. Nekane had never seen war, nor had any of his men but they were trained by the Fae and taken to a foreign land to fight an enemy they were not yet prepared for. Nekane was the bravest of all, surprising the others with his courage and tenacity, despite what they saw to be a weakness. His mortality may have seemed a weakness to others but for Nekane it was his driving force. He knew his life was fragile and that he must be quicker, faster, and stronger than all the others.

  Nekane and his men fought valiantly through the war, taking down creatures that they had never seen, even in their wildest dreams. They helped the Fae and the others push through to the Dead King’s lair. Once inside, Nekane knew his time was drawing to a close so he fought hard and valiant, and ended up being the one who took the shot with his bow, that wounded the Dead King enough for the others to take him down. However, as he stood watching the Dead King fight back, weakened by his arrow, he was hit with a ball of fire that sent him lurching backward into the unforgiving walls of the volcanic castle.

  As Nekane lay on the warm stone floor, watching the fight, his life fleeting, he could hear the Dead surrounding his body. The Dead King had reached into his mind and found what possession he held the dearest to him, his mortality. Knowing he was to meet his end, the Dead King lashed out, striking Nekane and taking his mortality with him. The island King stood, realizing he was no longer a mortal, but instead held the power to live through all eternity, no matter the cost. While others would find this a gift, Nekane’s soul plummeted and he cried out in anger, realizing the one thing that he cherished the most was just snatched from him, replaced with an eternity of sadness and loneliness.

  When the island King returned to his people he was greeted with parties and thanks but his soul had felt the touch of the Dead King, and there was no merriment to be found in his mind. For years upon years, Nekane sat on his throne of sticks, watching as everything and everyone he loved died away. He allowed his Kingdom to fall into disarray, the people left on their own accord, and the castle left sealed with him sitting in the Great Hall. The servants fled, fearful of his darkened soul. Nekane did whatever he could to end his life, but in the end, he would only reawaken in his throne, looking out at the clouds passing timelessly by. No sleep ever found him, no hunger ever plagued him, and instead, he stayed that King that had faced the Dead King so many years before.

  The day, this day was the same as any other. Nekane sat perched on his throne, staring out into nothingness, thinking about the visions he had seen the night before. It was if the Dead King gave him visions to force his connection with the outside world. To remind him daily of the life and death that he lost. To remind him of the wife and children he buried, the people he failed, and the Kingdom that no longer existed. However, these visions wer
en’t the usual ones. He saw fire, he saw the birth of a child, he saw the baby’s eyes glimmering in the forests. He was uneasy with the thoughts, still unaware of the Dead King’s reappearance, having not ventured outside in many, many years. He took a deep breath and stood from his throne, dressed in nothing more than cloth pants, and a knitted shirt. His feet moved across the broken glass, untouched by what should have been deep lacerations. As he approached the bright sunlight beaming from the sky, he squinted, putting his arm up and walking out into the fresh air.

  Nekane looked around at the overgrown trees and the forest slowly encroaching on the castle atop of the cliffs. He sighed and shook his head, not wanting to be forced to gaze upon the dismay he had allowed his Kingdom to fall into. He walked over and clutched the railing looking out over the watery horizon. As he turned to the left, he stopped, his eyes fixating on what looked to be a red cloud swirling in circles in the far off distance. Nekane put his hand over his eyes shielding them from the light and squinted harder, unbelieving what he was seeing. He stopped and took in a breath, thoughts blowing wildly through his mind. He turned and took off through the castle, his legs moving faster than they had in decades. He turned the corner and took to the winding staircase that rose him high above the island into the watchtower.

  He burst through the simple wooden doors out onto the walkway and grabbed his telescope. He looked through the small lens and focused it on the swirling red smoke. He couldn’t believe his eyes. His mind would not allow him to fully comprehend what he was seeing. High in the sky, over the realms far to the East, sat the Dead King’s symbol, magically swirling through the bright sunny sky. He dropped his telescope and breathed heavily, knowing that this was what he was waiting for. This was what he sat quietly perched waiting to happen, the return of the creature that damned him to a life of immortality. Slowly he thought back through his visions, realizing there was a child involved this time. Revenge was his to take, and he knew that if he were to fulfill his life’s purpose, he would need to rid the world of everything that had to do with the Dead King.