P.S. After three years of inactivity, I've decided to return to my original story. After numerous failed attempts at editing it, I finally chose to rewrite my entire tale, hopefully this time without the glaring mistakes I noticed in version 1.0.
Since both Thenesis and Runglar seemed generic and somewhat shallow, I also focused more on characterization in this short little prologue.
I plan to make this a 120k novel, with new chapters being added every 7-10 days.
That being said, please feel free to point out any mistakes that lessens your reading experience.
Thanks. :D
The fiery sky,
Intoned with life
The dead are settled
The dawn uplifting
Verse one of the Chapter of Life from the Hymn of the Steppes
It was inconceivable that the magicians were losing; yet losing they were, as they were slowly pushed back, step by painful step. It was galling to the extreme that their only defeat in centuries was at the Forest of Wisdom, on a field rich with Ellinian magic. The warriors of Perion had made good use of the naturally forming teleporting platforms as their base for attack. Never had it occurred to the magicians that their most menial form of transport would be their downfall.
The Shamans, warrior priests of Perion, had somehow circumvented the barriers that should have existed between the two diverse forms of magic, forcing them together with devastating results.
"Come on, men!" Borius shouted, desperate to revive the ailing morale of his troops.
The gravelly voice of the Commander rang through the broken spirits of his soldiers, bolstering them with courage. The magicians had prepped their vast armies of magic at the borders of Perion in preparation for the assault. However, in doing so, they left their motherland virtually undefended, something the warriors had anticipated. An elite force had been organised and quickly slipped through the unguarded portals.
The raiders wrecked havoc on the surrounding villages, killing indiscriminately. As no survivors were left, it took a full week before the news of the invasion reached the stagnant forces at the borders. Panicking at the proximity of their enemies, the bulk of their army had immediately teleported back to the last defensible outpost at the edge of the Forest of Wisdom – right into an ambush. The magicians had only one place left to go, and so they were easily anticipated.
Thousands of Ellinians fell within the first few minutes, the magical enhanced roars of the warriors piercing eardrums and shattering delicate blood vessels. Twelve regiments, twelve thousand magicians were lost in that instant. The remnants of the once mighty imperial army now crouched behind rocks, trees and crude fortifications, waiting for reinforcements that would never come. The soldiers had long accepted their fate, and each was preparing a welcome for death in his own special way.
Borius could only sigh at the hopelessness of the situation. Just barely moments ago, he had received a coded message from Gandalf. In response to his increasing impatient pleas for aid from their allied towns, the ruler of Ellinia had merely replied with a short message.
Fight to the death. Hold for as long as possible. Give no ground.
Such was the ways of kings and rulers, he mused. Twenty-five years he had given to Gandalf and the kingdom. And his reward for his long years of loyal service was to die in a hopeless battle while Gandalf sat on his gilded throne. The fact irked him. But orders were orders, and Borius planned to fulfil his pledge of allegiance.
Turning towards his lieutenant, a man he had fought side by side with for more than a decade he said, "I believe we might have run into a bit of a problem."
Demalto grinned at his superior's satire. "So we solve it like we always do, hey?"
Despite the gravity of the situation, Borius smiled, "you mean walking up and demanding the shit-eating pigs to return to their mountain holes?"
Demalto shrugged, "I don't think the shit-eating pigs understand any civilised languages."
"So how do you expect to tell them?"
"I believe 'shit-eating pigs' is universal."
Borius stared for a moment before roaring with genuine humour. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Of what?"
Borius rolled his eyes, gesturing at the widespread destruction around them.
"Ah Borius, is age catching up to you?"
Shaking his head in mock horror, Demalto cracked his neck, the banter elevating the tension he always felt before a battle. Don't you worry old man, you just stay here. I'll kill every bastard out there, diaper you and send you back to your mother. You sit and cheer me on."
Borius grunted out an obscene reply that made both men chuckle.
Their grins fell as they saw the enemy closing on them.
Borius said, "are the men done falling the trees? We have to barricade the passage to Ellinia."
Demalto nodded the affirmative.
Gathering his energy, Borius blasted the logs with fire, hardening them with flame as the soldiers stacked them one over another, blocking the only entrance to Ellinia still left open.
With the logs successfully baked, Borius gestured curtly to Demalto. His lieutenant waved his staff, tracing runes on the hardened trunks. Borius felt rather than saw the hum of magic as the moisture in the air froze, packing the logs even closer together.
"How long will this hold?" He asked.
"Long enough," was the brusque reply.
They were just in time. The screeching sound of trumpets announced the arrival of the main host. The ice wall behind them grew as Demalto poured more and more energy into the construction, desperate for it to hold.
"Fire mages in front. Ice mages, form shields. Clerics, began your chants. Ranks of five."
Any former camaraderie vanished from the atmosphere at the arrival of the troops. The magician soldiers were well trained to the man, and they responded to their Commander's orders with the efficiency of long practice.
"Arrows up!"
A hundred fiery constructs blazed in the air as the first ranks took their positions. Across them, the warriors began a slow jog that built into a sprint as they gathered momentum.
"Fire!"
A glowing wall of death swept out from the archers, smashing into the ranks of the warriors, causing widespread damage. However, the tough mountain men weathered the strikes, leaping across their fallen comrades, eager for the blood bath just ahead.
"Ice mages, shields!"
Frost gathered as the magicians concentrated their energy in front of them, creating an impenetrable wall – or so they thought.
The more experienced of the warriors halted when they sensed the chill in the air. As one, they grabbed their spears. A devastating avalanche of sound resounded from them as they roared, shaking the earth with its intensity. The weaker magicians clutched at their tattered eardrums. The wall shattered as their concentration wavered in the face of the warriors' awesome power.
Five paces. Four. Two. One.
And the warriors were among the confused Ellinians, killing with impunity as the magicians struggled to regain their senses. Borius jumped into the fray, blasting warriors to the ground with well-aimed arrows of flame. He was far too strong for the arte of the dragon's roar to affect him and warriors fell like wheat before him.
Spitting blood onto the ground, the Commander drew a strangely shaped rock from his pockets and threw it. Grasping his staff, he slammed it on the rock, sundering it. Mystic energy swept across the battlefield before condensing onto the bloodied spot. A rift began to form, providing Borius with temporary relief as the warriors backed away, unsure about this new magic.
Taking advantage of the godsend, Borius screamed, desperate to finish his incantation. "Elquines! Attend to me! I bind you here with the chains of my command. Never will you taste freedom until Ellinia once again is free!"
The answering roar was one of rage and helpless anger as the pull of blood and sorcerous power dragged the icy demon from its infernal home.
The spell completed, Borius whipped his spare dagger out. With a resigned sigh, he threw his staff on the ground. Lifting his head, he glanced at the sky, swelling his lungs with a breath of the sweet forest air.
"Demalto!" He roared above the thunder of the battle. "Die well!"
Saying so, he plunged the dagger into his breast, completing the ritual allowing him to bind the Elquines – normally only summoned for short periods of time, to an eternity of servitude to the Forest of Wisdom. The demon of ice slowly materialised. Bound by the manacles of Borius's will, it could only attack the warriors of Perion and it did so with the violence so common to its kind. Ignoring the nicks that the hapless warriors placed on it, its giant fists swung, caving in skulls, claiming lives.
Borius smiled as he fell to his knees, strength ebbing from his chest. His last thoughts were of his childhood, where he played in the streams of Ellinia with Demalto.
Demalto saw his Commander fall and screamed his rage to the uncaring sky. Holding out his staff, he began his greatest spell, which ended when an axe hammered into his chest, splintering his ribs and drowning the remaining magicians in gore.
A monstrous figure towered over the diminishing magicians, sinews bulging from the excess of muscle. Dances with Balrog had entered with battle, and his presence was immense indeed. His powerful forearms crossed an impossible length of chest to fold across an impressive upper body. With great speed belying his size, he reached and snatched the axe from the mortally wounded Demalto and before any of the surrounding magicians could react, beheaded the nearest magician. The power of the slash was carried, and the magicians huddled behind could only stare in awe as their companions were hit with a blow that landed seconds ago.
Demalto struggled into a sitting position. He knew the ice wall he had constructed would not be enough to stop the rampaging warriors. Clenching his fist in helpless agony, he could only watch as his lifeblood streamed from the devastating wound. Pushing palms together, he whimpered as he tried to push the jagged edges of his wound together.
Remembering, though not quite understanding why his Commander had to give his life for the summoning of the Elquines, he grabbed his staff and laid it on his exposed chest. The last action of the lieutenant of Ellinia's army was to complete his spell.
An explosive blizzard raged from the prone body, devastating both friend and foe alike. Caught by surprise, Dances with Balrog screeched in fury as his prize was denied to him. Summoning his considerable power, he tried to push his way out of the fay wind. However, slowly, but surely, ice began to clump around him, freezing the great warrior. His subordinates were already frozen clumps of ice. The Elquines floated towards the warrior lord and with malicious glee grabbed him. It was the straw that broke the back of the donkey. The ice crusted around him, and he stood frozen within the unnatural blizzard, a victim of his own invasion.
The blizzard continued throbbing with the strange energies that powered it. Brave soldiers from both sides tried to enter the wailing storm, but none made it out alive. Strangely, the icy wind never strayed further than where Demalto had fell. In death, the leaders of the army managed to do what they could not in life – the way to Ellinia was blocked.
Throughout the rich, loamy earth of The Forest of Wisdom, the remaining magicians fought desperately. Spells could not be thrown without concentration, and with the ground shaking with the shamanic roars of the warriors throwing even the staunchest magicians off balance, the defenders were being scythed down ruthlessly in their hundreds.
Theneis leaned his back against the trunk of the tree, wearier then he had ever been in his life. The battle was lost, The Forest of Wisdom taken, and the magicians of Ellinia tasted, for the first time in centuries, the putrid stench of defeat. Theneis gazed upon the Forest of Wisdom; its green fields ravaged beyond recognition, and cursed once more, the futility of conquest.
The barbarians of Perion, angered that the magicians had broken their treaties, had formed an invasion of their own. The battle had fast turned into a rout as the magicians fell neatly into the warrior's trap.
Their will was shattered, their mages dead or wounded, the previously undefeatable army of Ellinia was gone. Only pockets of resistance remained as a testament to the cunning of the warriors.
Thenesis had seen the Elquines summoned by Borius and his face lit up with a bitter smile. His friend had finally grasped the concept he had tried so many years to explain to him. Unfortunately, it took his death for the lesson to be learnt. And even then the Commander did not fully grasp what Thenesis had tried to impart to him.
He reached down to wipe the sweat and grime off his bruised body. Thenesis was a mage apart. He suspected Grendel would have him captured, or at least questioned extensively for the magic he knew, and so he kept it hidden from the rest of his peers, choosing instead to restrict himself to the banal forms of magic taught at the Academy. Yet this was getting harder and harder.
His newfound knowledge caused a shift of perception in him. It opened new doors to hidden awareness yet closed others. He could no longer think like an archmage of Ellinia for the simple reason that he was no longer one. The nagging question of his identity returned to nag at him as it so often did in the dark depths of night. Irritated, he shelved his unruly thoughts with a simple breathing technique he taught himself.
However, he returned to it again and again, his mind worrying over the problem insistently. Annoyed, he clenched iron fingers over his weapon, looking around for more enemies.
Grime clung on his Eligos staff, slightly dampening the soft red glow that rose from it. It did not, however, decrease the proficiency and deadliness of the weapon in any way. The sudden prickling of the hair at the nape of his neck warned Thenesis of incoming danger. Instinct took over then, hard training wrenching control of his body. He teleported swiftly a few paces back, surveying his surroundings with dark eyes.
The ground was pitted where he was a few moments ago, still smoking slightly from the power of the blow. The warrior had imbued his weapon with shamanic magic, using the brute force of his heritage to slam his spear into the ground, causing a shock wave to ripple out, destroying anything in its path.
Three warriors faced him, arrogant in their numerical superiority. One of them called over, "impressive reflexes magician."
A tight smile flashed across Thenesis's face. He replied, "be careful boy, you might hurt yourself."
Flicking his staff disdainfully at the warriors, he summoned his magical energies, blood quickening at the thought of battle and the pain to come. Casually walking towards his enemies, he disregarded any defence, spreading his arms, leaving himself wide open to any attack.
The warriors' eyes narrowed at the intended insult. With roars of rage, two of them charged forward, spears already glowing with the magic of their homeland, ready to kill the offending magician standing in front of them. Blue auras surged around them, overlaying their forms with that of a dragon. Thenesis's eyes widened – he had not expected them to be so advanced in their training.
However, he was too late; twin spears entered his front to punch bloody holes through his back. He fell forward, blood dripping from tortured flesh. With a grunt of exertion, the warriors wrenched their spears out of the wounded magician, watching as he stumbled. Thenesis pushed himself upright. He could feel his lifeblood pooling away.
But he wanted to savour the moment.
"Come bonnies, my chest itches." He taunted, enjoying the dark flush of anger colouring the faces of the two warriors before him.
A glow of azure pink erupted around the one standing closest to Thenesis, a sure sign that the offensive power of voice often utilised by the tribes of Perion was about to be used. Thenesis's staff glowed with sudden power as dark fire coursed through its length. With incredible speed from one so wounded, he leapt forward, and before the warrior could gather himself, struck him solidly on his shoulder.
Immediately, the vampiric effects of his delayed spell took place. The warrior stood rooted in shock as his vitality surged out of him like an ocean swell. Rejuvenated by the flood of vitality, Thenesis swung around the remaining warrior, his staff a blurring weapon of death.
The warrior defended staunchly enough, but he was inexperienced and soon fell Thenesis's twirling staff. Facing the downed warriors, Thenesis sucked in their life energies, feeling his grievous wounds close up with unnatural speed.
Finally sated, he nonchalantly smashed the remains, collapsing them with a sweep of his Eligos.
The third warrior was watching him intently.
Striding forward unexpectedly, the warrior ignored Thenesis's belligerent glare. Surprising the magician, he offered his hand in the customary greeting of the Ellinians.
"Well met magician. I am Runglar."
The tension broke as Thenesis grinned and returned the handshake. "Well met indeed barbarian. I am Thenesis."
The warrior had a deep booming voice that timbre matched perfectly with his muscular structure – big boned and heavily muscled.
"You have killed my comrades. You understand that I must now kill you too?"
Thenesis's body tensed at the threat. However, seeing as Runglar remained perfectly relaxed, Thenesis forced a calm he did not feel.
Smiling, he said, "I am tired, shall we take a rest? I believe I have some food in my pack."
Massive shoulders shrugged. "Death makes a man hungry eh? I am ravenous!" A booming laugh echoed from the barrel chest. With a grunt, Runglar sat himself by the tree, pushing aside one of the dead. "Warriors about to kill each other should break bread, it is only proper."
Nodding his head in agreement, Thenesis inquired as he offered a hunk of bread from his stores which the warrior accepted gratefully, "you did not like them?"
Sorrowfully, the big man shook his head. "I loved them. We were brothers."
"You understand that I had to kill them."
"It is the war lad. It makes monsters of us all."
Thenesis sat across Runglar. He raised an eyebrow at the warrior's comment. "You were the ones who attacked us."
"Grendel broke our treaties. He closed the trade route to us when drought was rampant throughout our lands. What would you have us do?"
"That was not what we were told."
Runglar sighed then, rubbing the creases on his face. Then, without warning and with frightening power, he wrenched his brother's spear from the ground and lunged at Thenesis. The magician was stunned at the speed and power of the strike. Even though he had expected the fight to begin sooner or later, he had not gambled on the pure destructive force and speed that Runglar had.
He barely managed to teleport out of the way before the spear plunged into the ground, sinking all the way to half its hilt before stopping. With barely a grunt of effort, he saw that Runglar's face was contorted in rage, a mocking caricature of his previous calm. He felt the thrill of the battle in his veins once more. Unbidden, a laugh tore its way from his mouth. Cloaking his staff with dark fire, he spun to face his adversary.
"You killed my brother!" Runglar roared with all the power of Voice. The sound plummeted Thenesis, nearly driving him to his knees. Forcing himself up, he replied with a stunning display of skill. Spinning his staff, Thenesis dashed through the tumult to land blows of Runglar's exposed body. The warrior, after recovering from the first few hits, matched Thenesis spin for spin, smash for smash.
The toll of defending against the shamanic imbued blows soon took its toll on Thenesis. Jumping back, he drew nourishment from his surroundings and pulsed their power into him, bolstering him with fay power. His muscles swelled as the creatures and plants gave their lives for him. Their deaths saddened him, but he had no choice. A dark aura surrounded him, boosting his innate skills.
A ripple of dark fire streamed out from his clenched fist to strike Runglar, driving the baresark warrior back. Taking advantage of the push, Thenesis rushed forward to strike at the warrior only to have his weapon blocked by a spear.
A combination of three blows rang against the spear.
Three blows.
Four blows.
Five blows.
Runglar glowed with inner energies, and he seemed haler and heartier with each passing second. However, an increase of stamina did not equate to an increase in strength, and Thenesis slowly drove him back with his increasing momentum. They were so balanced it was hard to differentiate who was the better. Few opponents were as skilled and Thenesis was enjoying the thrill of adrenaline that boiled his blood and spirit. But he knew that such a competition could not last; with each stab and each twirl of their weapons, it brought death closer to soft skin and yearning flesh.
Finally, Thenesis broke through Runglar's guard with a blistering six blow combination.
Runglar staggered back, forehead bleeding from a gash. Dark fire streamed once again from Thenesis, and the warrior's weapon shattered in his hands. Runglar made to grab for another spear, but a staff gleaming with magic pressed against his throat dissuaded him.
Wild eyes met Thenesis and Runglar choked out angry words from between clenched teeth. "Kill me so I may join my brothers, Thenesis."
For a moment, the mage's eyes gleamed with barely supressed maniacal joy. Then the reality of his surroundings hit him, dampening his savagery with chains of reason. Despite his better judgement, he lowered his staff, surprising himself with the act of simple mercy. Normally his warrior spirit would scream against letting an enemy, especially one as powerful as Runglar to live and recover, but his love for his homeland overrode his baser instincts – enough death had been visited on the leafy boughs of Ellinia.
The very soil stank of blood and excrement that bled from the death of mighty hearts. The shadow of war would forevermore stain the once pure forests and something about the absolute wrongness of it all pulled at Thenesis, filling his mouth with bitter bile. He knew it would take years of cleansing to fill the forest with sweet air again and he had no inclination to add more loss to the woodland.
Lifting his staff from the prone Runglar, he quieted the urge to bash his skull in. "No. The war is over. The warriors have won. We will return to our lands and guard what little we have left."
Thenesis could read the blistering anger in Runglar's eyes as he regarded the act of mercy. Perionions looked upon weakness with contempt, and the inbred scorn was true in Runglar as he regarded his captor.
"My brothers are dead, and by your hands. If you do not kill me, I will kill you." The heavy threat hung in the air, adding even more tension to the situation.
Which was promptly broken by Thenesis's laugh.
It was a unbridled laugh made true with the absence of scorn. Looking down on the warrior, he said, "I have just overpowered you and you are currently in my mercy. Yet I am frightened of the threat you just made." The irony sank in again, and Thenesis sheathed his weapons, sitting with his back facing Runglar, knowing all the while that the warrior was inching slowly towards the broken, but still sharp shards of his ruined weapon.
"I have heard that the warriors of Perion will not attack an unarmed enemy facing away from them. Let us see if that is true."
Runglar froze in the act of plunging the sharp edge into Thenesis's back. He growled, "magician, do you want to die?"
"My life, it seems, is in your hands now. My wants are immaterial." Thenesis replied him, the ghost of a smile gracing his lips.
With a savage roar of fury, Runglar plunged the shard in the soft mud, knowing full well he could not kill Thenesis and knowing too with dread that he owed the magician his life.
Turning around, Thenesis said, "thank you."
With that, the power balanced was restored. In the act of granting the power of a jury to Runglar, the shackles of the debt that laced the warrior fell away, making him a free man once more.
A life for a life – the ironclad rule of Perion.
Runglar cradled his brothers close to him and finally allowed his tears to flow. The last of Thenesis's battle lust vanished as the scene before him punished him with whips of guilt.
"They attacked me, I had no choice." The weakness of the apology sounded even in his ears but he had nothing else to offer.
Runglar replied, "they died well."
Weaponless, Runglar plunged his hands into the ground and begin to dig. The warrior gestured to Thenesis, signalling him to help with the burial of his brothers. Shrugging his shoulders, the mage gathered his power and plunged in staff into the ground to send out chains of dark fire that dug out the soil.
With gentle care, Runglar placed the dead in and after covering them with earth, intoned softy.
"warriors are we,
broken am I,
your wings are spread
yet here you lie"
Thenesis waited until he completed the chant before he asked, "what do the words mean?"
Runglar regarded the mage with a curious graze. "It is a verse from the Chapter of Death of the Hymn of the Steppes." When Thenesis failed to understand, he continued, "it is the cant that we live by that contains the rules that dictate our society."
Understanding dawned and shock was evident on Thenesis's face. "I did not know you barbarians had such culture."
Runglar smiled thinly, "and it is amazing that you do not eat the dead or use them for one of your obscene rituals."
Sharing a grim smile, the two warriors considered the implications of the propaganda that plagued their two different societies.
The arrival of a troop of warriors broke them out of their contemplation. Upon seeing the lone magician, the leader at the front barked an order, and fifty swords were raised in preparation of the slaughter to come.
"Stop!" The voice of Runglar blasted out, authority stringent in his order. Immediately, all fifty swords fell before they registered where the command came from.
The leader pushed the wild boar he was riding on forward to meet warrior, arrogance in his every movement. He called to Runglar, "and who are you, warrior?"
Ignoring him, Runglar reached out and heedless to the bristling swords, grabbed the man by his armour, lifting him clear off his mount. Pushing his face close to the resisting man, he snared, "look again peasant, and tell me."
The man's eyes widened as he saw the insignia of the House of Dances with Balrog tattooed on the bare chest of Runglar. Stuttering incoherently as Runglar dropped him, he fell to his knees. Behind him, upon seeing their leader's display of obedience, the fifty warriors immediately bowed as well. Behind him, Thenesis was regarding the scene in front of his with mild amusement.
"Apparently you are some sort of lord in Perion, Runglar?"
"Apparently."
Turning to Thenesis, he said, "we part here. Do you surrender on the behalf of the magicians?"
Thenesis nodded uncertainly, unsure whether he had the authority to make such a claim. However, he replied, "yes."
"Then the war ends… for the moment. The surviving magicians will not be harmed."
Kicking the kneeling man, he ordered him up. "Ride as fast as you can and give the order. The killing stops. We will regroup at the edge of the blizzard. The men will stay with me"
The wildness in his eyes only slightly abated, the man leapt onto the boar with frantic urgency and urged it away.
Turning again towards Thenesis Runglar said," if we meet again, do not expect the same mercy you have shown me."
Thenesis replied, "I will show you none."
Satisfied, the warrior made his way to his soldiers, glad at least for the time being, the war had ended.
Just before he got too far, Thenesis called him, "I will not call you my enemy."
Runglar replied with turning, "you cannot call me your friend."
Thenesis sensed a kindred spirit in Runglar. In the short time they had spent together, camaraderie had formed even in the face of the death of Runglar's brothers.
Thenesis said with a certainty in farewell, "I think we will meet again."
The warrior strode away without answering, feeling the gloom of prophecy settle on him as he heard the words of Thenesis.
The magician watched as he gathered his troops and walked away. It had been a strange day, he decided as he got up and prepared his teleportation spell that would take him back to Ellinia. The last drifting thought before he vanished was that of the blizzard and the arrant Elquines and what the Council was going to do with them.
Sixteen thousand, eight hundred and fifty-three magicians died that day, crippling the military might of Ellinia. No longer would the town of magicians rise to the prominence they once knew. Their day was ended beneath the boughs of the Forest of Wisdom.
The historical battle would spread through word of mouth towards the neighbouring cities of Victoria. What the allied towns originally thought was a border skirmish had turned into a full scale invasion. Many were the time where the leaders mourned that they had ignored Ellinia's call for help.
Now the warriors controlled the highway that was the portals of the Forest of Wisdom. The hidden potential of the portals were still in the process of being discovered by the shamans of the warriors to the woe of Victoria.
Even though they had lost their leader in battle, the lusts of the Perionions were still strong. Even with the passivity of their current leader, Runglar, they were still an unstoppable force. Runglar, despite his promise to Thenesis, had to continue his march throughout Victoria or risk his fledging army tearing itself apart. The endless horde of Perion could not be halted.