Hello,
If you have not read either of the last two posts STOP RIGHT HERE, do not go on, this is part three of a three part story, you need to read the other two parts first. Also, please leave a comment if you read this post, just click on the link that says _ Comments.
Thank you,
Enjoy
"M'lord, an army has sprung up in the wilderness, they have no point of origin, they just appeared a few days ago." said the scout to his king, Iotorth.
"What are they made up of?" asked the king.
"Not men, it appears as though it is an army of demons and monsters. There is a man at its head, but no other person."
"What are they doing?" Iotorth asked further.
"It seems as though they are waiting for something, they have not moved since they appeared. We will report back with any further news." The scout said before bowing and leaving the room. Iotorth turned to gaze out his window, he had been king for sixteen years, never once had he been threatened, but the sudden arrival of an army worried him. He knew his long dead cousin, Octolivius, had been married, but he had heard nothing of child, a child who would have grown up hearing of his father's untimely death in a faraway land where he should have been king, a child who would despise Iotorth.
Iotorth's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door, a new scout entered.
"Sir, Kingston Arley has surfaced again." he said.
"He's not dead yet? Where is he?" Iotorth demanded, his hand at the scout's neck.
"Marching north with an army." came the choked reply. Iotorth released the scout.
"A demon army?" he feverishly inquired.
"No, his army is all the people we've been trying to find all these years. However, it appears as if they are going to meet up with the demon army."
Iotorth cursed hard under his breath, "Alert the general to ready the troops, we sally in an hour."
The scout did as he was bidden lest he be strangled again, while Iotorth hurried to don his armor. Arley's sudden emergence could only mean that he had found Octolivius' son and convinced him to act. A quarter of an hour later Iotorth rode before his army as they departed to meet the army in the wilderness.
* * *
Kingston Arley rode through the masses of resting demons to the only tent erected in the camp, Inger's tent. A great leathery body with a tusked face guarded the entry to the tent.
"Kingston Arley, I expect that you have come to see the lord Inger." Manifeithel said.
"Why, yes… yes I have." Kingston replied.
"Then enter." Manifeithel said as he shifted out of Kingston's way.
Inger sat at a table reading over a map of the surrounding regions and his mother lay resting in the corner.
"Ah, Kingston, you've come." Inger said when he noticed his visitor.
"That big fellow out there, is that Manifeithel? He seems to know my name." Kingston asked.
"He seems to know everyone's name, but yes, that is Manifeithel."
" It seems then that you succeeded," Kingston said, then thought of the other demons, "and then some."
"Yes, I did succeed, but what of you, Kingston?"
"I managed to find a little less than a legion for you."
"Good, thank you Kingston, I …"
"Sir, the enemy has moved out from the castle." Manifeithel cut across, Inger stepped outside, "It is time to lay your plans."
Inger walked off with the great beast, and Emmalynn joined Kingston at the entrance to the tent.
"He's not just a boy anymore, is he, Emmalynn?" Kingston asked.
"No, he's no longer my little boy, he's grown into a man, and he's coming into his father's inheritance. After the battle he won't be mine any longer, he'll belong to Dearst." She said as she watched him consult with Manifeithel.
"Then a small piece of him will belong to you, your part of Dearst." Kingston offered.
"No, I'm not a part of Dearst, I'm barely a part of my father's kingdom as it is. I can't stay here, I'm exhausted, I'll make my final journey across the sea to reside in my homeland, and Inger will rule here." She said pensively.
Kingston did not question her further, he knew she believed what she said to be the right thing to do.
* * *
"Send for the sirens to come up the river here, they know the rest of their work." Iotorth said to his general as the deployed their troops across the field, "The boy, I will take the boy."
* * *
Horns welcomed dawn, and sent the two armies into battle. Inger stayed back to direct his troops from a nearby hilltop.
Iotorth's troops in their shining armor fought desperately against the demons from Annonia, and for a while the battle was evenly matched. It raged for the better part of three hours, the tide tossing any which direction it willed. But, Iotorth had the sirens to end the battle right then and there. Manifeithel did not take part in the battle, he had a more important job to do.
Just as they had done with the moon years before, the sirens had to wait for the sun to be in the perfect position to begin singing with out harming their master's men. Two minutes before they were to begin singing the sirens noticed movement in the woods beside the river. Before they could do anything Manifeithel burst out from the trees and set into them.
Iotorth heard the screams of his sirens and hurried to find out what was wrong. He arrived in time to see Manifeithel snap the last one to pieces in his powerful jaws and set off for the battle. Iotorth tried, and failed, to return before the great beast could reach the battlefield, and so he rode down to try to slay the monster.
Inger saw Iotorth's charge, and before his captains could stop him, rode out to meet his father's cousin.
Iotorth spotted Inger and changed his course. They rode at each other and Inger was knocked from his horse by a well-placed blow from Iotorth, who immediately dismounted to fight Inger one on one.
"I expect that you'll want to know why your father's dead before I kill you." Iotorth said to Inger.
"Why?" Inger asked.
"My father had the unfortunate fate of being second born, so I was not in line for the throne. But I looked every day upon the throne your father would some day have, and I began to envy him, when my father died I promised my self that I would sit in the throne someday, what ever it took.
"So first I killed my uncle and framed your father, but I forgot he was away that night. I ensured that piece of evidence was suppressed and he was run out, five years later I was all but sitting in the throne, I controlled your uncle, all that was left was for him to die. When your father returned his brother killed him, then I killed your uncle and proclaimed your father's innocence and set up your uncle as the killer, and justified his killing.
"I have ruled for sixteen years, and I will not let you take it from me, boy, draw your weapon."
Inger drew his sword and did his best to defend himself from the much larger Iotorth. The battle raged around them, slowly turning to Inger's army after Manifeithel's entrance. Iotorth bore down upon Inger relentlessly striking until Inger tired enough to allow his arm to slip, Iotorth took that moment to cleanly sever Inger's arm inches from the shoulder. Inger fell to the ground weaponless and Iotorth stood over him, ready to kill his final rival.
A shot rang out clear above the tumult and the battle halted, all eyes turned to the sound.
Iotorth looked down at the hole through his chest and back up to his shooter, who cocked the hammer on the second barrel of the pistol and cast Iotorth's body into the dirt with a bullet between his eyes.
Emmalynn cast aside the empty pistol and walked up the hill she stood on towards the sea.
The battle ended there, the soldiers surrendered and hailed Inger as king, Manifeithel healed Inger's arm, but it remained a stub. Inger took the throne when they all arrived at the capitol. At his formal coronation Inger called for the body of Iotorth to be entombed with the kings, he ignored all objections holding that Iotorth was still a king and deserved the respect a king demands. Manifeithel swore an eternal oath to serve Inger's bloodline before all, and Inger promised that the demons should be free to roam, so long as they let the people be.
Kingston told Inger not to look for his mother, that she had returned to her home so that he could rule his father's land, he obeyed but he never stopped wondering where she went.
The land prospered under its new king and his bloodline for years to come, and Emmalynn lived out her days in peace alone.
The End
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Part II
First I want to say congratulations to Taylor Swift for winning the Horizon Award. Second if you have not read the previous post STOP RIGHT HERE don't go on until you read the Previous post. Third, I said that this story would be two parts, well, it grew, so this story will go on until it ends (Probably next post).
Enjoy...
"So this was your father's home." said Emmalynn to her son, Inger, as they looked across the barren and desolate land that lay before them. "I pictured a more fertile and beautiful place for some reason."
"It has been over sixteen years since he died, who knows what the king has done to his lands." Inger explained, "It was probably a lot different in his day."
Emmalynn stole one more look at the departing ship that had brought them to the shores of the land where her husband, Octolivius, was born and had died. She hesitated for a moment before starting after Inger into the fire-burnt and bone-strewn land of Dearst.
Three days they wandered around the countryside finding no one alive, but they continued traveling north, towards the capitol.
"You fools, get out of the open." Said a man as Inger passed his hiding place, "Get in here."
Emmalynn and Inger entered into the man's hovel hoping that he might have food and drink to spare because theirs was running low.
"Do you not know that king Iotorth has ordered the outlying lands emptied, if you had been seen by any one but me you would have been shot without question. Who are you?" asked the man.
Emmalynn dared not tell this stranger who she was and hoped that Inger would share her caution. Inger on the other hand felt that this was a person who could be trusted, and though he knew his mother's ever-present fears, he took a first step to fulfill his dreams.
"I am Inger, son of the Lord Octolivius who was killed in this country sixteen years ago." He said as his mother gave a faint whimper and the man fell to his knees.
" I am Kingston Arley," said the man as he got up from his knees, "I knew your father when he was a boy. It has been my hope for years that Octolivius had a son, and today you have made me a very happy man."
"Please Mr. Arley, might you have any food to spare?" asked Emmalynn in a slightly relieved but still cautious voice.
"Yes of course, you may eat, but then we must talk." replied Kingston, who proceeded to lay out dinner for his guests.
After dinner was eaten Kingston took a book from his shelves and laid it on the table.
"This is the only extant volume of the annals of the kingdom in the transition of rulers from Sorachael to Iotorth, it holds the answers you are looking for about you husband's death, I assure you he was an innocent man, the part incriminating Iotorth in his uncle's murder was destroyed before I managed to get this." Kingston said to Emmalynn, who brushed her dirty golden hair out of her weary face as she bent to read the account of Octolivius' death.
"His brother killed him?" asked Emmalynn.
"Yes, Octolivius was accused of murder and his brother, Sorachael, would not give him brotherly trust and belief, and so killed him, but he learned the truth immediately afterwards. Iotorth was your husband's cousin, he killed your husband's father and framed your husband. After many years of planning he killed your husband through Sorachael and then killed Sorachael himself. Iotorth took the kingdom for himself and executed your father as a political enemy."
Emmalynn sat back in her chair and thought for a moment before asking; "What can we do?"
"Ah, that is Inger's job." Said Kingston as he turned to Inger and place his hand on Inger's shoulder, "What say you, Inger, do you wish to free you father's land? Ahh, that is what you came here for, is it not."
"I wish to do whatever I can for the land of my father and its people." said Inger.
" You're a good strong boy, but your strength alone will not save this land, you need an army at the very least, I know of some men who have waited for sixteen years to go to war against the king, I will gather them. You on the other hand have a very important job to do."
"What do I have to do, Mr. Arley?"
"Your father lost the battle after the Sirens turned on him, they were bought off by Iotorth and betrayed your father when he needed them most."
"So I have to buy off the Sirens."
"No chance of that, they're too well guarded. Iotorth has the Sirens, you need something to counter them, something stronger."
"What is stronger than the Sirens?"
"I have heard of only one thing, a creature called Manifeithel, He lives in the bowels of the earth and he could very well destroy the Sirens, or any enemy he is set against."
"What must I do, Mr. Arley?"
"There is a cave about two miles northwest of here, it is said to lead into the far reaches of the earth, you must descend into this cave and search for Manifeithel, and once you have found him bring him with you to the surface as an ally. But, now you must rest."
Inger did as he was bidden and slept as Kingston Arley and Emmalynn talked about the short life of Octolivius.
Kingston Arley's not so gentle hands woke Inger long before the sun began to rise.
"Get up, you must be on your way before the sun rises." Kingston said as he handed Inger a satchel of food and showed Inger and his mother to the door, "Stay hidden, tread lightly, and move quickly. You won't miss the cave."
"Thank you, sir" Inger said to the darkness where Kingston Arley had just been standing.
Emmalynn and Inger flew across the desolate scrub prairie under cover of darkness hardly making a sound. They reached the mouth of the cave as the sun began to rise, lighted a torch and started in.
The torchlight offered little light as they descended into the oppressive darkness. Inger lost track of time in the painful silence but he estimated that they had walked for around three hours when they came upon a small crawlspace that opened into a spacious cavern. The cavern would have been impressively massive if it wasn't full of the biggest creature Inger had ever seen.
"What are you doing here?" the creature growled without moving.
"Are you Manifeithel?" asked Inger.
"Do not reply to a question with a question, Inger son of Octolivius." the creature roared, "Again I ask, what are you doing here?"
"I am searching for Manifeithel, and how do you know who I am?" asked Inger
"You have found Manifeithel, and I know your name, not who you are, who you are is yet to be found."
Inger watched as Manifeithel shifted himself to look at the new comers to his cave. The powerful muscles of his body shown in the dim torchlight as did Manifeithel's broad tusked face.
"Why do you seek out Manifeithel, son of Octolivius?" asked Manifeithel as he studied the two faces before him.
"We need your help, we need you to fight for us against my father's cousin and his Sirens." Inger answered.
"And why should I fight for you?"
Inger was at a loss but Emmalynn managed to answer; "Have you ever left this cave? Have you ever felt the sun's warmth or the spray of the sea on your face? Have you ever been free?"
"No."
"Come with us and we can give you freedom, we can let you live a life with pleasure." Emmalynn said.
Manifeithel looked around at the cave that had housed him since creation and let his old desires for freedom come back to him.
"I will go with you, I will fight for you, but first you must fight for me. I cannot go the way you came, there is only one way I can go, but the way is blocked. Tarous the keeper of Annonia holds everything in the bowls of the earth in, and I am now, as I have always been, his prisoner. For me to fight for you, you must get him to let me go." Manifeithel said.
Inger looked at his mother before answering; "We will fight for you, take us to Tarous."
Manifeithel hauled himself up onto his feet and started down a tunnel to Annonia. Along the way Manifeithel called out to unseen creatures who joined the growing procession to Annonia.
"What is this, what is going on here?" bellowed the minotaur, Tarous, as he rushed out of his gatehouse beside the golden fences of Annonia, the gate of the abyss.
"We are going to freedom, foul warden." roared Manifeithel in return.
The procession gathered around Manifeithel's great form and stood defiantly before their jailer, Tarous.
"You will go nowhere, Annonia is unbreakable." Tarous said to the crowd, "Return to your holes and make no more trouble lest I find the need to dispatch you."
"You will let them go free." Inger said as he stepped alone in front of the crowd.
"Who is this boy who dares come and stand alone before Tarous, keeper of Annonia?"
One of the bolder among the crowd attempted to run to Inger's side, but was held back by Manifeithel, who said, "This is the son of Octolivius' test, let him alone."
"I am Inger, and I have set these free, step aside, gatekeeper!"
Tarous was infuriated by the words spoken to him by Inger, and without thinking drew his sword and charged at Inger. Inger deftly sidestepped the attack and delivered a cut across Tarous' back with his own sword.
Manifeithel watched as the duel ensued, contemplating if this boy becoming a man was a person Manifeithel wished to follow.
Shortly after the fight had run ten minutes Inger removed the minotaur's head and the gatekeeper's body fell to the subterranean dust. The crowd gave a cheer as Inger took the keys from Tarous' body and threw open Annonia. They rushed out past Inger and his mother standing at the gate with grateful cheers and finally light spirits.
"Close the gates and lock them behind you." Manifeithel said to Inger, "You have not released everything down there, and most of what's down there needs to stay."
Inger locked the gate and threw down the key.
"Mount up, my liege, you have earned it, and there is quite a ways to go yet." Manifeithel said to Inger who did as he was instructed and mounted Manifeithel with his mother. Once they were secure Manifeithel's powerful limbs drove them to the surface until at last they burst from a cave into the sunshine followed by the army Inger had gathered at Annonia.
"Where to, Inger?" asked Manifeithel.
To Be Continued…
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
Enjoy...
"So this was your father's home." said Emmalynn to her son, Inger, as they looked across the barren and desolate land that lay before them. "I pictured a more fertile and beautiful place for some reason."
"It has been over sixteen years since he died, who knows what the king has done to his lands." Inger explained, "It was probably a lot different in his day."
Emmalynn stole one more look at the departing ship that had brought them to the shores of the land where her husband, Octolivius, was born and had died. She hesitated for a moment before starting after Inger into the fire-burnt and bone-strewn land of Dearst.
Three days they wandered around the countryside finding no one alive, but they continued traveling north, towards the capitol.
"You fools, get out of the open." Said a man as Inger passed his hiding place, "Get in here."
Emmalynn and Inger entered into the man's hovel hoping that he might have food and drink to spare because theirs was running low.
"Do you not know that king Iotorth has ordered the outlying lands emptied, if you had been seen by any one but me you would have been shot without question. Who are you?" asked the man.
Emmalynn dared not tell this stranger who she was and hoped that Inger would share her caution. Inger on the other hand felt that this was a person who could be trusted, and though he knew his mother's ever-present fears, he took a first step to fulfill his dreams.
"I am Inger, son of the Lord Octolivius who was killed in this country sixteen years ago." He said as his mother gave a faint whimper and the man fell to his knees.
" I am Kingston Arley," said the man as he got up from his knees, "I knew your father when he was a boy. It has been my hope for years that Octolivius had a son, and today you have made me a very happy man."
"Please Mr. Arley, might you have any food to spare?" asked Emmalynn in a slightly relieved but still cautious voice.
"Yes of course, you may eat, but then we must talk." replied Kingston, who proceeded to lay out dinner for his guests.
After dinner was eaten Kingston took a book from his shelves and laid it on the table.
"This is the only extant volume of the annals of the kingdom in the transition of rulers from Sorachael to Iotorth, it holds the answers you are looking for about you husband's death, I assure you he was an innocent man, the part incriminating Iotorth in his uncle's murder was destroyed before I managed to get this." Kingston said to Emmalynn, who brushed her dirty golden hair out of her weary face as she bent to read the account of Octolivius' death.
"His brother killed him?" asked Emmalynn.
"Yes, Octolivius was accused of murder and his brother, Sorachael, would not give him brotherly trust and belief, and so killed him, but he learned the truth immediately afterwards. Iotorth was your husband's cousin, he killed your husband's father and framed your husband. After many years of planning he killed your husband through Sorachael and then killed Sorachael himself. Iotorth took the kingdom for himself and executed your father as a political enemy."
Emmalynn sat back in her chair and thought for a moment before asking; "What can we do?"
"Ah, that is Inger's job." Said Kingston as he turned to Inger and place his hand on Inger's shoulder, "What say you, Inger, do you wish to free you father's land? Ahh, that is what you came here for, is it not."
"I wish to do whatever I can for the land of my father and its people." said Inger.
" You're a good strong boy, but your strength alone will not save this land, you need an army at the very least, I know of some men who have waited for sixteen years to go to war against the king, I will gather them. You on the other hand have a very important job to do."
"What do I have to do, Mr. Arley?"
"Your father lost the battle after the Sirens turned on him, they were bought off by Iotorth and betrayed your father when he needed them most."
"So I have to buy off the Sirens."
"No chance of that, they're too well guarded. Iotorth has the Sirens, you need something to counter them, something stronger."
"What is stronger than the Sirens?"
"I have heard of only one thing, a creature called Manifeithel, He lives in the bowels of the earth and he could very well destroy the Sirens, or any enemy he is set against."
"What must I do, Mr. Arley?"
"There is a cave about two miles northwest of here, it is said to lead into the far reaches of the earth, you must descend into this cave and search for Manifeithel, and once you have found him bring him with you to the surface as an ally. But, now you must rest."
Inger did as he was bidden and slept as Kingston Arley and Emmalynn talked about the short life of Octolivius.
Kingston Arley's not so gentle hands woke Inger long before the sun began to rise.
"Get up, you must be on your way before the sun rises." Kingston said as he handed Inger a satchel of food and showed Inger and his mother to the door, "Stay hidden, tread lightly, and move quickly. You won't miss the cave."
"Thank you, sir" Inger said to the darkness where Kingston Arley had just been standing.
Emmalynn and Inger flew across the desolate scrub prairie under cover of darkness hardly making a sound. They reached the mouth of the cave as the sun began to rise, lighted a torch and started in.
The torchlight offered little light as they descended into the oppressive darkness. Inger lost track of time in the painful silence but he estimated that they had walked for around three hours when they came upon a small crawlspace that opened into a spacious cavern. The cavern would have been impressively massive if it wasn't full of the biggest creature Inger had ever seen.
"What are you doing here?" the creature growled without moving.
"Are you Manifeithel?" asked Inger.
"Do not reply to a question with a question, Inger son of Octolivius." the creature roared, "Again I ask, what are you doing here?"
"I am searching for Manifeithel, and how do you know who I am?" asked Inger
"You have found Manifeithel, and I know your name, not who you are, who you are is yet to be found."
Inger watched as Manifeithel shifted himself to look at the new comers to his cave. The powerful muscles of his body shown in the dim torchlight as did Manifeithel's broad tusked face.
"Why do you seek out Manifeithel, son of Octolivius?" asked Manifeithel as he studied the two faces before him.
"We need your help, we need you to fight for us against my father's cousin and his Sirens." Inger answered.
"And why should I fight for you?"
Inger was at a loss but Emmalynn managed to answer; "Have you ever left this cave? Have you ever felt the sun's warmth or the spray of the sea on your face? Have you ever been free?"
"No."
"Come with us and we can give you freedom, we can let you live a life with pleasure." Emmalynn said.
Manifeithel looked around at the cave that had housed him since creation and let his old desires for freedom come back to him.
"I will go with you, I will fight for you, but first you must fight for me. I cannot go the way you came, there is only one way I can go, but the way is blocked. Tarous the keeper of Annonia holds everything in the bowls of the earth in, and I am now, as I have always been, his prisoner. For me to fight for you, you must get him to let me go." Manifeithel said.
Inger looked at his mother before answering; "We will fight for you, take us to Tarous."
Manifeithel hauled himself up onto his feet and started down a tunnel to Annonia. Along the way Manifeithel called out to unseen creatures who joined the growing procession to Annonia.
"What is this, what is going on here?" bellowed the minotaur, Tarous, as he rushed out of his gatehouse beside the golden fences of Annonia, the gate of the abyss.
"We are going to freedom, foul warden." roared Manifeithel in return.
The procession gathered around Manifeithel's great form and stood defiantly before their jailer, Tarous.
"You will go nowhere, Annonia is unbreakable." Tarous said to the crowd, "Return to your holes and make no more trouble lest I find the need to dispatch you."
"You will let them go free." Inger said as he stepped alone in front of the crowd.
"Who is this boy who dares come and stand alone before Tarous, keeper of Annonia?"
One of the bolder among the crowd attempted to run to Inger's side, but was held back by Manifeithel, who said, "This is the son of Octolivius' test, let him alone."
"I am Inger, and I have set these free, step aside, gatekeeper!"
Tarous was infuriated by the words spoken to him by Inger, and without thinking drew his sword and charged at Inger. Inger deftly sidestepped the attack and delivered a cut across Tarous' back with his own sword.
Manifeithel watched as the duel ensued, contemplating if this boy becoming a man was a person Manifeithel wished to follow.
Shortly after the fight had run ten minutes Inger removed the minotaur's head and the gatekeeper's body fell to the subterranean dust. The crowd gave a cheer as Inger took the keys from Tarous' body and threw open Annonia. They rushed out past Inger and his mother standing at the gate with grateful cheers and finally light spirits.
"Close the gates and lock them behind you." Manifeithel said to Inger, "You have not released everything down there, and most of what's down there needs to stay."
Inger locked the gate and threw down the key.
"Mount up, my liege, you have earned it, and there is quite a ways to go yet." Manifeithel said to Inger who did as he was instructed and mounted Manifeithel with his mother. Once they were secure Manifeithel's powerful limbs drove them to the surface until at last they burst from a cave into the sunshine followed by the army Inger had gathered at Annonia.
"Where to, Inger?" asked Manifeithel.
To Be Continued…
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
Friday, September 28, 2007
Part I
It has come to my attention that people that I don't know are now reading, or at least visiting, my blog. To them I say "Welcome, take some time and read my stories. Then post a comment telling me where you are from, leave a prompt, a sentence that you would like to write into a story, and tell me what you think."
To the rest of you thanks for your comments and prompts, I chose this week to use Elliott's, Mikey's, and Mrs C.'s, keep reading and sharing with me. And now a little clarification, my first post was the Prologue to my book that I am writing, I do not intend to post my entire book on this site, my other posts are totally unrelated.
The story this week is part one of two, and I need some help on the title so leave a title in your comment if you wish.
Thank you,
R. Wesley Nance
The king of Dearst, Sorachael, sat high on his horse peering down at the battle below him through a spyglass. He wanted to be with his men, but his generals strictly forbade him from moving off his hilltop perch. His life, they said, was in extreme danger if he dared venture near enough for his brother's long arm to strike a blow.
Five years before Sorachael and his brother Octolivius lived with their father, Coramthor, while he ruled over Dearst. Octolivius was older and therefore next in line for the throne when Coramthor was killed in his sleep. Every shred of evidence but one portrayed Octolivius as the killer, Octolivius maintained his claim to innocence but fled after his father's funeral with a small guard of his followers.
Sorachael was given the crown and, as much as it pained him, set a hefty price on his brother's head at the advice of his cousin, Iotorth. The reward availed to naught and Octolivius escaped the country. Sorachael proceeded to hunt for his brother in the neighboring kingdoms but as he failed again and again to bring his father's killer to justice he let the matter slide into the realm of forgotten things.
Although the kingdom forgot, Sorachael was always plagued by the seeming betrayal of his brother and his own apparent failures and weaknesses as king. So he sunk deep into the counsels of his advisers, in particular Iotorth. Thus Sorachael ruled a peaceful and contented kingdom for three years, until rumors drifted in with the overseas traders of incoming vengeance.
Vengeance landed in the form of Lord Octolivius backed by King Earast, the father of Lord Octolivius' new bride. Initially they were driven off by a hastily raised, but well rested army detachment of Dearst, but returned by way of different shores and gained a foothold in the forests by the western sea.
Lord Octolivius requested a parley with his brother during the ensuing stalemate but his request was refused at the direction of Iotorth, and King Sorachael renewed his assaults on the forest strongholds. Time and time again Lord Octolivius' parley requests were denied until the two armies issued out for a final test of strength.
And so it was that King Sorachael sat upon his horse longing to be among his men but denied even that small privilege. He looked down upon his army, they were losing this engagement, unable to turn the field to their advantage. It appeared as though the new come vengeance would have its day.
* * *
Lord Octolivius looked across this glorious field at his slow coming victory. A sorrow lay still on his heart, he had not come for this, he had come to talk to his brother. But the deep sown hatred against him could not be rooted out and his own people who had once loved him turned and drove him from their shores.
Lord Octolivius saw a flash from the top of a hill across the plain, it could be no other than his brother who refused even to hear an honest plea of innocence from a forgotten comrade.
After he fled Octolivius made his way to the sea and set out across its vastness with no destination in mind and landed in the realm of King Earast. He found refuge in Earast's court and caught the attention of Earast's eldest daughter. The king was taken by Octolivius' tale of persecution for a crime he did not commit and made Octolivius the sole inheritor to the kingship and gave his eldest daughter to bind the will.
For two years Octolivius lived content but became troubled as time passed. The king gathered a force to protect his son-in-law and accompanied him after finding that Octolivius wished only to speak with his brother. They landed and attempted several times to peacefully seek a parley but eventually discovered that only through force would they gain an audience with Sorachael.
Victory was slow in coming but Octolivius had one more move to make that would seal it.
At once a great chorus rose from the nearby shore, the sirens were singing. Octolivius looked at the moon, "They've started too early!" he shouted to his captains. And it was true, the moon had not yet reached its prime, the song sung too early and without correlation from the moon could cause disastrous effects.
Octolivius could see now that his final blow had turned upon its wielder, his men fell dead on the spot, more than half of them. The rest were shocked and fled, as did he, flying to a small house on the edge of the woods.
For the better part of an hour Octolivius hid in the house before his brother found his hiding place. An incessant pounding on the door continued until the blows to the door finally shivered the door like a rock taken to a window. Sorachael strode into the room and hauled Octolivius to his feet by the collar of his shirt and pressed a pistol between Octolivius' eyes.
"Why did you kill him?" Sorachael asked.
"I did NOTHING to him." Octolivius replied.
"Then why did you come back?" Sorachael asked.
"All I wanted was to…" Octolivius started before his brother cut him off.
"Was to return and receive the kingdom you stole from our father." finished Sorachael and before his brother could answer Sorachael released his pent up sorrow and anger with the bullet ending his brother's life. He held the body for a moment before letting it fall to the floor and turning to find Iotorth.
"He did nothing, my cousin" Iotorth said, then drew his own pistol and in an instant cast his cousin's lifeless body to the floor with his other cousin.
"I did."
To Be Continued.....
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
To the rest of you thanks for your comments and prompts, I chose this week to use Elliott's, Mikey's, and Mrs C.'s, keep reading and sharing with me. And now a little clarification, my first post was the Prologue to my book that I am writing, I do not intend to post my entire book on this site, my other posts are totally unrelated.
The story this week is part one of two, and I need some help on the title so leave a title in your comment if you wish.
Thank you,
R. Wesley Nance
The king of Dearst, Sorachael, sat high on his horse peering down at the battle below him through a spyglass. He wanted to be with his men, but his generals strictly forbade him from moving off his hilltop perch. His life, they said, was in extreme danger if he dared venture near enough for his brother's long arm to strike a blow.
Five years before Sorachael and his brother Octolivius lived with their father, Coramthor, while he ruled over Dearst. Octolivius was older and therefore next in line for the throne when Coramthor was killed in his sleep. Every shred of evidence but one portrayed Octolivius as the killer, Octolivius maintained his claim to innocence but fled after his father's funeral with a small guard of his followers.
Sorachael was given the crown and, as much as it pained him, set a hefty price on his brother's head at the advice of his cousin, Iotorth. The reward availed to naught and Octolivius escaped the country. Sorachael proceeded to hunt for his brother in the neighboring kingdoms but as he failed again and again to bring his father's killer to justice he let the matter slide into the realm of forgotten things.
Although the kingdom forgot, Sorachael was always plagued by the seeming betrayal of his brother and his own apparent failures and weaknesses as king. So he sunk deep into the counsels of his advisers, in particular Iotorth. Thus Sorachael ruled a peaceful and contented kingdom for three years, until rumors drifted in with the overseas traders of incoming vengeance.
Vengeance landed in the form of Lord Octolivius backed by King Earast, the father of Lord Octolivius' new bride. Initially they were driven off by a hastily raised, but well rested army detachment of Dearst, but returned by way of different shores and gained a foothold in the forests by the western sea.
Lord Octolivius requested a parley with his brother during the ensuing stalemate but his request was refused at the direction of Iotorth, and King Sorachael renewed his assaults on the forest strongholds. Time and time again Lord Octolivius' parley requests were denied until the two armies issued out for a final test of strength.
And so it was that King Sorachael sat upon his horse longing to be among his men but denied even that small privilege. He looked down upon his army, they were losing this engagement, unable to turn the field to their advantage. It appeared as though the new come vengeance would have its day.
* * *
Lord Octolivius looked across this glorious field at his slow coming victory. A sorrow lay still on his heart, he had not come for this, he had come to talk to his brother. But the deep sown hatred against him could not be rooted out and his own people who had once loved him turned and drove him from their shores.
Lord Octolivius saw a flash from the top of a hill across the plain, it could be no other than his brother who refused even to hear an honest plea of innocence from a forgotten comrade.
After he fled Octolivius made his way to the sea and set out across its vastness with no destination in mind and landed in the realm of King Earast. He found refuge in Earast's court and caught the attention of Earast's eldest daughter. The king was taken by Octolivius' tale of persecution for a crime he did not commit and made Octolivius the sole inheritor to the kingship and gave his eldest daughter to bind the will.
For two years Octolivius lived content but became troubled as time passed. The king gathered a force to protect his son-in-law and accompanied him after finding that Octolivius wished only to speak with his brother. They landed and attempted several times to peacefully seek a parley but eventually discovered that only through force would they gain an audience with Sorachael.
Victory was slow in coming but Octolivius had one more move to make that would seal it.
At once a great chorus rose from the nearby shore, the sirens were singing. Octolivius looked at the moon, "They've started too early!" he shouted to his captains. And it was true, the moon had not yet reached its prime, the song sung too early and without correlation from the moon could cause disastrous effects.
Octolivius could see now that his final blow had turned upon its wielder, his men fell dead on the spot, more than half of them. The rest were shocked and fled, as did he, flying to a small house on the edge of the woods.
For the better part of an hour Octolivius hid in the house before his brother found his hiding place. An incessant pounding on the door continued until the blows to the door finally shivered the door like a rock taken to a window. Sorachael strode into the room and hauled Octolivius to his feet by the collar of his shirt and pressed a pistol between Octolivius' eyes.
"Why did you kill him?" Sorachael asked.
"I did NOTHING to him." Octolivius replied.
"Then why did you come back?" Sorachael asked.
"All I wanted was to…" Octolivius started before his brother cut him off.
"Was to return and receive the kingdom you stole from our father." finished Sorachael and before his brother could answer Sorachael released his pent up sorrow and anger with the bullet ending his brother's life. He held the body for a moment before letting it fall to the floor and turning to find Iotorth.
"He did nothing, my cousin" Iotorth said, then drew his own pistol and in an instant cast his cousin's lifeless body to the floor with his other cousin.
"I did."
To Be Continued.....
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
Monday, September 10, 2007
A Compass To Show The Way
Hello to everyone who reads my blog,
I apologize for not getting this post up in a timely manner, but I had a little Writers Block, it was terrible....
Anyway, I would like to try something new, for those of you who have taken a Comp class with Mrs. C know what this is, it is called prompts. I would like each person who reads this to post a comment, (I fixed it so that anyone can post, just click comment then click other, it will let you post without having a google account) at the end of your comment write a sentence or two that you would like to see me build a story around. Something like: "there was a dusty rose between the pages of the book." or "there stood the towers that all hated and all loved." I would really appreciate this and your comments too.
"A compass to show you along your way." Said a man in the shadows as he pressed something into the hands of a scared little boy, "If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny."
The man rose and walked out of the dark alley into the street as the scream of men and women rose into the sky along with the sounds of the raging battle. Once in the street the man drew his pistol and fired several shots each direction down the street.
"Go, your way is clear!" he shouted to the little boy, who, needing no other bidding, scampered away down the street and out of the city.
The man watched as the little boy disappeared into the lingering gun smoke before throwing his pistol aside, drawing a sword, and striding towards the center of the battle with a confidence in his step flowing from the knowledge of his fate.
For years afterwards the compass lay safe, guiding its new owner to safety, shelter, and food. Soldiers were a constant threat, although as the boy grew he became strong and powerful, a tough match for any threatening soldier. Needless to say these infrequent run ins with people bent on killing him made the boy distrust people, so he avoided towns and cities as much as he could.
For twelve years the compass bade its time to show the boy to his destiny, and at long last it turned its needle. The boy gathered his things and began his trek to his destiny, although he did not know it.
Three days after setting out the boy reached a city called Parateor. Distrustful of people as always he walked into Parateor with his gun at the ready. After passing through the ruined gates he saw the squalor of the townsfolk who were inexplicably fleeing before him.
Why they should fly from him was beyond the boy, but he put the matter to rest as he entered the building to which the compass was showing him. It was a dimly lit building lined with shelves and littered with scrolls and loose sheets of paper.
"A soldier!" cried the clerk behind the counter at the center of the room as he dove for cover.
"I am no soldier." replied the boy stowing his gun.
"Then who are you?" asked the clerk.
"My name is Markon, of a surname for myself I know nothing." the boy replied.
"Then how did you come to have a gun, as it is that only soldiers of the…. King…. are allowed guns?" asked the clerk slowly beginning to trust Markon.
"Well I stole it from one of the sold…" began Markon before the clerk cut him off.
"Where did you get that?" the clerk asked pointing to the compass hanging from Markon's belt.
"It was given to me several years ago by a man I don't know." Markon said in a cautious voice, "Why?"
The clerk immediately stood up and ran into a back room with out saying a word. Just as Markon was beginning to wonder if he should leave the clerk returned followed by an old man.
"I never thought I would live to see the compass returned to its own land." Said the old man as he stared intently at the beat up black compass at Markon's belt, then his eyes shifted to Markon's face, "And as fine a man as any to carry this item Mr. Souragon."
"Who is Souragon?" Asked Markon.
"You are, my liege." The old man answered.
"And how may I ask do you know this?" asked Markon a look of incredulity on his face.
"King Wirgon Souragon was assassinated many years ago. He was the last good king this country has seen. He was one of the rare survivors of the task of the compass that you carry on your belt. In your eyes resides the same ferocity and desire for righteousness that I saw so many times in his. That is one trait that stays in his bloodline." The old man answered.
If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny, Markon recalled. That must be it, his destiny was to retake the throne of this kingdom from the kings who had wrought so much evil from it.
"Take care with your thoughts, my liege, noble though they undoubtedly are." The old man said as he sat down, "The compass has become a symbol of the fighters against evil, the one who holds it has fought in some way for the people against some great evil near and far. As I said earlier your Great-Grandfather was one of the lucky few who live, the tasks that the compass leads men to have killed most of them although the ends they were fighting for were accomplished.
"You no doubt believe that your task is to kill the king and take back your Great- Grandfather's crown. I can do no more than confirm that that is what the people of this country need more than anything else now. It is up to you to find the means of doing it. Go now and do what you will do, and pray that what you do is right."
Markon left the old man and walked back out into the street, if he went alone and killed the king the royal guard would kill him and completely nullify the good that had been done. So he decided that he would need an army to draw off the guard.
Raising an army in Parateor was quite easy, as was raising an army in the neighboring towns and villages. In all that time Markon did not consult the compass at all, he finally did on the eve of the battle. It pointed him away from the camp into a large clearing in the woods next to the camp. He sat down and after a while he was joined, not by any man but by a misty figure that resembled Markon.
"I am Wirgon, we come to sit with you and quell your fears as was done for us." it said as it was joined by others like its self.
Markon felt a fleeting desire to ask what his Great-Grandfather meant before the answer came to him. They would sit with him tonight and help him to quell his fears just as the ones who had gone before them had done for them on the eve of their great battles.
They sat there in silence but Markon could hear them telling him that he would either be a hero and live on to rule his people before joining them or would be a hero and join them the next day. At last, as the sun began to lighten the sky, Markon knew his fate and rose to meet it, it was then that one of the misty figures stepped forward.
"A compass I have given you and it lead you to your fate, now take the other part of what is given the compass bearers." it said as it held out a magnificent sword to Markon. He took it and saluted the misty ones before sheathing his sword and striding to the head of his army.
The battle raged from dawn to well into the night. Markon's forces gained entrance to the city at great cost around dusk. Markon entered the city under cover of darkness and made his way through the streets. After a mortar hit near him Markon Sought refuge in a dark alley until the debris stopped falling from a collapsing building.
"A compass to show you along your way." Markon said as he pressed the compass into the hands of a scared little boy who also sought refuge in the dark alley, "If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny."
Markon rose wondering why he had done what he had just done and walked out of the dark alley into the street as the scream of men and women rose into the sky along with the sounds of the raging battle. Once in the street Markon drew his pistol and fired several shots each direction down the street.
"Go, your way is clear!" he shouted to the little boy, who, needing no other bidding, scampered away down the street and out of the city.
Markon watched as the little boy disappeared into the lingering gun smoke before throwing his pistol aside, drawing the sword, and striding towards the center of the battle with a confidence in his step flowing from the knowledge of his fate.
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
I apologize for not getting this post up in a timely manner, but I had a little Writers Block, it was terrible....
Anyway, I would like to try something new, for those of you who have taken a Comp class with Mrs. C know what this is, it is called prompts. I would like each person who reads this to post a comment, (I fixed it so that anyone can post, just click comment then click other, it will let you post without having a google account) at the end of your comment write a sentence or two that you would like to see me build a story around. Something like: "there was a dusty rose between the pages of the book." or "there stood the towers that all hated and all loved." I would really appreciate this and your comments too.
Anyway I know you all want to read a story so here is my latest writing: A Compass To Show The Way.
"A compass to show you along your way." Said a man in the shadows as he pressed something into the hands of a scared little boy, "If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny."
The man rose and walked out of the dark alley into the street as the scream of men and women rose into the sky along with the sounds of the raging battle. Once in the street the man drew his pistol and fired several shots each direction down the street.
"Go, your way is clear!" he shouted to the little boy, who, needing no other bidding, scampered away down the street and out of the city.
The man watched as the little boy disappeared into the lingering gun smoke before throwing his pistol aside, drawing a sword, and striding towards the center of the battle with a confidence in his step flowing from the knowledge of his fate.
For years afterwards the compass lay safe, guiding its new owner to safety, shelter, and food. Soldiers were a constant threat, although as the boy grew he became strong and powerful, a tough match for any threatening soldier. Needless to say these infrequent run ins with people bent on killing him made the boy distrust people, so he avoided towns and cities as much as he could.
For twelve years the compass bade its time to show the boy to his destiny, and at long last it turned its needle. The boy gathered his things and began his trek to his destiny, although he did not know it.
Three days after setting out the boy reached a city called Parateor. Distrustful of people as always he walked into Parateor with his gun at the ready. After passing through the ruined gates he saw the squalor of the townsfolk who were inexplicably fleeing before him.
Why they should fly from him was beyond the boy, but he put the matter to rest as he entered the building to which the compass was showing him. It was a dimly lit building lined with shelves and littered with scrolls and loose sheets of paper.
"A soldier!" cried the clerk behind the counter at the center of the room as he dove for cover.
"I am no soldier." replied the boy stowing his gun.
"Then who are you?" asked the clerk.
"My name is Markon, of a surname for myself I know nothing." the boy replied.
"Then how did you come to have a gun, as it is that only soldiers of the…. King…. are allowed guns?" asked the clerk slowly beginning to trust Markon.
"Well I stole it from one of the sold…" began Markon before the clerk cut him off.
"Where did you get that?" the clerk asked pointing to the compass hanging from Markon's belt.
"It was given to me several years ago by a man I don't know." Markon said in a cautious voice, "Why?"
The clerk immediately stood up and ran into a back room with out saying a word. Just as Markon was beginning to wonder if he should leave the clerk returned followed by an old man.
"I never thought I would live to see the compass returned to its own land." Said the old man as he stared intently at the beat up black compass at Markon's belt, then his eyes shifted to Markon's face, "And as fine a man as any to carry this item Mr. Souragon."
"Who is Souragon?" Asked Markon.
"You are, my liege." The old man answered.
"And how may I ask do you know this?" asked Markon a look of incredulity on his face.
"King Wirgon Souragon was assassinated many years ago. He was the last good king this country has seen. He was one of the rare survivors of the task of the compass that you carry on your belt. In your eyes resides the same ferocity and desire for righteousness that I saw so many times in his. That is one trait that stays in his bloodline." The old man answered.
If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny, Markon recalled. That must be it, his destiny was to retake the throne of this kingdom from the kings who had wrought so much evil from it.
"Take care with your thoughts, my liege, noble though they undoubtedly are." The old man said as he sat down, "The compass has become a symbol of the fighters against evil, the one who holds it has fought in some way for the people against some great evil near and far. As I said earlier your Great-Grandfather was one of the lucky few who live, the tasks that the compass leads men to have killed most of them although the ends they were fighting for were accomplished.
"You no doubt believe that your task is to kill the king and take back your Great- Grandfather's crown. I can do no more than confirm that that is what the people of this country need more than anything else now. It is up to you to find the means of doing it. Go now and do what you will do, and pray that what you do is right."
Markon left the old man and walked back out into the street, if he went alone and killed the king the royal guard would kill him and completely nullify the good that had been done. So he decided that he would need an army to draw off the guard.
Raising an army in Parateor was quite easy, as was raising an army in the neighboring towns and villages. In all that time Markon did not consult the compass at all, he finally did on the eve of the battle. It pointed him away from the camp into a large clearing in the woods next to the camp. He sat down and after a while he was joined, not by any man but by a misty figure that resembled Markon.
"I am Wirgon, we come to sit with you and quell your fears as was done for us." it said as it was joined by others like its self.
Markon felt a fleeting desire to ask what his Great-Grandfather meant before the answer came to him. They would sit with him tonight and help him to quell his fears just as the ones who had gone before them had done for them on the eve of their great battles.
They sat there in silence but Markon could hear them telling him that he would either be a hero and live on to rule his people before joining them or would be a hero and join them the next day. At last, as the sun began to lighten the sky, Markon knew his fate and rose to meet it, it was then that one of the misty figures stepped forward.
"A compass I have given you and it lead you to your fate, now take the other part of what is given the compass bearers." it said as it held out a magnificent sword to Markon. He took it and saluted the misty ones before sheathing his sword and striding to the head of his army.
The battle raged from dawn to well into the night. Markon's forces gained entrance to the city at great cost around dusk. Markon entered the city under cover of darkness and made his way through the streets. After a mortar hit near him Markon Sought refuge in a dark alley until the debris stopped falling from a collapsing building.
"A compass to show you along your way." Markon said as he pressed the compass into the hands of a scared little boy who also sought refuge in the dark alley, "If you choose to follow, it will lead you to your ultimate destiny."
Markon rose wondering why he had done what he had just done and walked out of the dark alley into the street as the scream of men and women rose into the sky along with the sounds of the raging battle. Once in the street Markon drew his pistol and fired several shots each direction down the street.
"Go, your way is clear!" he shouted to the little boy, who, needing no other bidding, scampered away down the street and out of the city.
Markon watched as the little boy disappeared into the lingering gun smoke before throwing his pistol aside, drawing the sword, and striding towards the center of the battle with a confidence in his step flowing from the knowledge of his fate.
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
All rights reserved
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Shard Of Muskroth
Prologue
Myth and Legend
In the first years of the world, when the men and elves who knew no birth began to understand their mortality, their children did not understand death and the reasons for it. So, in anger and fear of death and its sorrow, many forsook the gods and were led to war by the twelve Wizards, with the objective of wrenching immortality from the gods.
On Amizeth the 32nd their challenge was answered, with a crushing defeat. Yet victory for the gods was not without its cost, their chief was wounded severely, and among the angelics losses were innumerable.
Their pride wounded and their invincibility questioned, the gods prevailed upon Therus, king of those still faithful, to aid in putting down the threat of the rebellious.
Three years of continual defeat was behind King Therus when the god Capdog came to him with orders to vacate to the plains of Belorned for training.
Six months the best scouts of the rebellious failed to find Therus' army, but on the first of Micath his hiding place was unveiled. On Micath the 26th the sun dawned to find the rebellious lined along Yawlay forest, and Therus' remade army along the Belorned Mountains. As the light morning mists dissipated from the plain, Oloridikian, the chief god, and his heavenly array descended to Therus' left flank to join in the battle.
In the second hour after sunrise horns were sounded and the two armies met with a crash like thunder, and the final battle commenced. For seven hours the battle raged, the tide constantly turning as men slew and were slain upon the plains. Until, in the 9th hour following the rising of the sun, Oloridikian, king of the gods, came across Zildorgan Kartakroth, last of the Wizards.
Without a moment to spare the two threw themselves together blade upon blade and dueled. Their blades flashed and sung with a fury so great that none dared approach them, though venerable they both were. So it continued until Oloridikian landed on Kartakroth's sword such a blow that Kartakrothfell to his knees stunned momentarily. Oloridikian did not waste a moment, but heaved his great sword, Muskroth, high into the air to bring the killing blow down upon his adversary. Kartakroth muttered incantations and spells under his breath to strengthen his sword and himself as he raised his sword to block the impending blow.
The two swords met.
In the blinding explosion of light that followed Muskroth was shivered and Kartakroth's sword had turned to dust. As the shards of Muskroth flew into air one shard, the shard that had been closest to the hilt and therefore closest to the power of the god who wielded it, fell into Kartakroth's open had and sliced open the tip of his forefinger. He took a moment to look at it as Oloridikian recovered from the explosion, placed it in one of his pockets, and promptly collapsed.
With their leaders gone the rebellious soon fell into disarray and fled in every direction unpursued by the exhausted victors.
At his trial on charges of treason Kartakrothdefended himself by alleging that he alone of the Wizards did not wish to fight the gods, and so the others had cast enchantments over him so that he would do their bidding without question.
It was then that Kartakrothfirst used the power of the god Oloridikian housed in the shard, although he was lying his own powers mingled with that of the king god was enough to make his words seem true to the court and so he was released.
To show his good will Kartakroth built many wonderful things for the peoples of the world, but always he harbored fell thoughts and hatred in his heart. Always biding his time for his thoughts to become deeds.
In the meantime the faithful who fought for the gods did not go unrewarded, they were given immortality and set themselves apart from the rest of the world as a new race dwelling in the forests, the Undymen.
Zeguth the 4th, twelve years after his trial, Kartakroth's audacity and festered hatred brought him once more to challenge the gods, not again for immortality, but for vengeance.
Urged on to counter Kartakroth's challenge by the god Ferusamel, the army of the heavens descended unaided by any who dwell upon the face of the world. A battle of astounding fierceness raged for a full day as Kartakroth prepared for his devastating attack.
Around the twenty-second hour Kartakroth drew all his power and mixed it once more with the power housed in the shard and broke the bonds and ties that the gods had to the world. Their bondage being to heaven and not to the earth the gods were plucked one by one from the battlefield and returned to the heavens as the bonds to the world crumbled. Kartakroth smiled as he watched, though he could never completely destroy the bonds he could weaken and maim them beyond any hope of repair. The gods could never set foot upon the face of the world again.
At last only one god,Ferusamel, stood upon the field flanked by his followers, they ran forward and bowed to Kartakroth who thanked Ferusamel for his help as a traitor to his fellow gods. The two departed the continent to lay their hands upon the rest of the world.
And so began the reign of terror…
On Amizeth the 32nd their challenge was answered, with a crushing defeat. Yet victory for the gods was not without its cost, their chief was wounded severely, and among the angelics losses were innumerable.
Their pride wounded and their invincibility questioned, the gods prevailed upon Therus, king of those still faithful, to aid in putting down the threat of the rebellious.
Three years of continual defeat was behind King Therus when the god Capdog came to him with orders to vacate to the plains of Belorned for training.
Six months the best scouts of the rebellious failed to find Therus' army, but on the first of Micath his hiding place was unveiled. On Micath the 26th the sun dawned to find the rebellious lined along Yawlay forest, and Therus' remade army along the Belorned Mountains. As the light morning mists dissipated from the plain, Oloridikian, the chief god, and his heavenly array descended to Therus' left flank to join in the battle.
In the second hour after sunrise horns were sounded and the two armies met with a crash like thunder, and the final battle commenced. For seven hours the battle raged, the tide constantly turning as men slew and were slain upon the plains. Until, in the 9th hour following the rising of the sun, Oloridikian, king of the gods, came across Zildorgan Kartakroth, last of the Wizards.
Without a moment to spare the two threw themselves together blade upon blade and dueled. Their blades flashed and sung with a fury so great that none dared approach them, though venerable they both were. So it continued until Oloridikian landed on Kartakroth's sword such a blow that Kartakrothfell to his knees stunned momentarily. Oloridikian did not waste a moment, but heaved his great sword, Muskroth, high into the air to bring the killing blow down upon his adversary. Kartakroth muttered incantations and spells under his breath to strengthen his sword and himself as he raised his sword to block the impending blow.
The two swords met.
In the blinding explosion of light that followed Muskroth was shivered and Kartakroth's sword had turned to dust. As the shards of Muskroth flew into air one shard, the shard that had been closest to the hilt and therefore closest to the power of the god who wielded it, fell into Kartakroth's open had and sliced open the tip of his forefinger. He took a moment to look at it as Oloridikian recovered from the explosion, placed it in one of his pockets, and promptly collapsed.
With their leaders gone the rebellious soon fell into disarray and fled in every direction unpursued by the exhausted victors.
At his trial on charges of treason Kartakrothdefended himself by alleging that he alone of the Wizards did not wish to fight the gods, and so the others had cast enchantments over him so that he would do their bidding without question.
It was then that Kartakrothfirst used the power of the god Oloridikian housed in the shard, although he was lying his own powers mingled with that of the king god was enough to make his words seem true to the court and so he was released.
To show his good will Kartakroth built many wonderful things for the peoples of the world, but always he harbored fell thoughts and hatred in his heart. Always biding his time for his thoughts to become deeds.
In the meantime the faithful who fought for the gods did not go unrewarded, they were given immortality and set themselves apart from the rest of the world as a new race dwelling in the forests, the Undymen.
Zeguth the 4th, twelve years after his trial, Kartakroth's audacity and festered hatred brought him once more to challenge the gods, not again for immortality, but for vengeance.
Urged on to counter Kartakroth's challenge by the god Ferusamel, the army of the heavens descended unaided by any who dwell upon the face of the world. A battle of astounding fierceness raged for a full day as Kartakroth prepared for his devastating attack.
Around the twenty-second hour Kartakroth drew all his power and mixed it once more with the power housed in the shard and broke the bonds and ties that the gods had to the world. Their bondage being to heaven and not to the earth the gods were plucked one by one from the battlefield and returned to the heavens as the bonds to the world crumbled. Kartakroth smiled as he watched, though he could never completely destroy the bonds he could weaken and maim them beyond any hope of repair. The gods could never set foot upon the face of the world again.
At last only one god,Ferusamel, stood upon the field flanked by his followers, they ran forward and bowed to Kartakroth who thanked Ferusamel for his help as a traitor to his fellow gods. The two departed the continent to lay their hands upon the rest of the world.
And so began the reign of terror…
Copyright © 2007-2009 Robert W. A. Nance
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