Escape from Celestial

by Tony Johnson

  THE STORY OF EVIL

  Volume II: Escape from Celestial

  Tony Johnson

  All characters and locations in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without written permission by its owner.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  ISBN-13: 978-1503360327

  ISBN-10: 1503360326

  Copyright © 2015 Anthony Johnson

  All rights reserved.

  Table of Contents

  Map of Element

  Map of Celestial

  Dedication

  Characters

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Acknowledgments

  Map of Element

  Map of Celestial

  Dedication

  Escape from Celestial is dedicated to my family, friends, and readers who sent me cards, emails, and letters, visited me, and prayed for me after I broke both of my elbows and arms in a sports injury about halfway through the writing of this book. You were all a huge blessing. Such great things can come out of the worst of times.

  Characters

  Stephen Brightflame - Human. 19 years old. 6’1” 180 lbs. Blue eyes. Medium-length black hair. Fights with a sword and shield. Wears red armor and a blue sash, which was given to him for being Celestial’s jouster. Steve was abandoned at a watchtower before turning one year old. Titus Thatcher adopted him.

  Tyrus Canard - Elf. 22 years old. 5’9” 145 lbs. Green eyes. Long, blonde hair. Fights with double swords which he keeps in a cross-sheath on his back. Wears silver armor. Trained as an aerial warrior. Ty and his brother, Darren, were adopted by Titus Thatcher after their parents, Caesar and Sarah, were killed. Murderer unknown.

  Kari Quinn - Half-Human, Half-Elf. 23 years old. 5’8” 140 lbs. Blue eyes. Long, black hair. Fights with bow and arrows. Kari’s father, Quintis, was killed as a warrior. Kari’s mother died from depression shortly thereafter. Kari is searching for the details regarding her father’s mysterious death.

  Grizz Grindstone - Dwarf. 28 years old. 5’4” 170 lbs. His brown eyes match his dark-brown skin. Bald with tattoos on scalp. Long, black beard. Fights with a custom-built weapon that is half-axe, half-hammer. Wears brown-and-black armor.He is a loving husband and father.

  The Hooded Phantom - Race unknown. Age unknown. Blind in one eye. Wears a black, hooded cloak and a mask. Battles with double swords. Can summon the elements of fire, water, wind, earth, and electricity. He is the leader of the army that took control of Celestial. Father of Silas Zoran.

  Silvanus Zoran – Human. Also called the Shadow Prince. Silas is the son of the Hooded Phantom and the grandson of the deceased King Zoran. Betrayed Celestial by teaming up with the Hooded Phantom to attack the capital city. Now the wielder of the Aurelian Sword, or King’s Sword. He wears Zoran’s crown and, technically, is the king, although Celestial civilians refuse to recognize him as their leader.

  Nightstrike - Dragon. Also called the Dark Dragon, Nightstrike is the son of the legendary Draviakhan. Nightstrike can harness the elements of water, wind, earth, and electricity. He allows none to ride him except the Hooded Phantom. He seeks to kill Crimson Singe, who gave him a scar on his chest and killed his father.

  Chapter 26

  “I wish I was in Celestial right now.”

  “I know. I heard you the first three times,” Grizz said gruffly, finally acknowledging the presence of his sixteen-year-old blacksmithing apprentice. The Dwarf had come to realize that ignoring the teenager was no way to circumvent conversation. The boy will keep repeating himself until he gets a response.

  Not picking up on his master’s annoyed tone that signified he wanted to work in silence, Dart continued talking. “Waiting to hear who won the Tournaments is torture.”

  Hunched over, inspecting a weapon fresh out of the forge, Grizz relented and spoke to the boy. “Well, I can guarantee it won’t be anyone from Serendale. It’s been four years since the last time a warrior brought home a second or third-place medal and eleven years since anyone brought home a first-place trophy. This year will be the same, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  With that, he picked up a hammer, bent back over, and was about to pound on a piece of red-hot steel, but his concentration was again interrupted, as it had been so many times by his talkative apprentice.

  “But sir, the Warriors’ Tournaments only happen once a year. Aren’t you at least a little bit excited to hear the results?”

  Grizz muttered a curse and shook his head at the teenager who tended to make conversation about things he couldn’t care less about. “Excited? Do you think twenty years from now anyone will remember which warrior won the Warriors’ Melee or who won the archery competition?”

  “No,” Dart conceded. He paused and said, “But it’s still interesting to hear who won. Haven’t you heard about the jouster from Celestial? I think his name is Brightflame. He won all of his Qualifier matches on some old stallion warhorse.”

  It was a full minute before the Dwarf answered. Grizz often used the method of waiting long periods of time to answer questions in hopes Dart would stop asking them, but the boy just stood there awkwardly and stared at him until he responded.

  After clanging his hammer on the steel a few times on a spot that still didn’t look right, Grizz once again checked his work. Clearing his throat, his deep, booming voice was slightly muffled through his long, black beard when he finally answered, “Brightflame? I think my kids were talking about him at dinner last week.”

  Dart smiled. This was the longest conversation he had had with Grizz in two weeks. Most of the time, apprenticing with Grizz Grindstone was done in complete silence. The only time the blacksmithing master spoke to him was when he was correcting the tiniest of flaws Dart made in the weapons or tools he was crafting. Not once had Grizz ever complimented his apprentice on his work even though Dart was impressively improving his skills every day.

  “You know,” Dart ventured, “there’s a rumor going around that he defeated Prince Silvanus in the exhibition joust.” He spoke excitedly, imagining the match in his head. “Supposedly, Brightflame unhorsed him on the final pass! No one’s ever beat the prince before.”

  “Ha!” Grizz let out a short-laugh from his barrel-chested body. “I would’ve paid to see that. I never liked Silas Zoran.”

  “Why didn’t you take your kids to the Tournaments?”

  In a voice saturated with annoyance, Grizz answered, “I’ve never taken them, and I never will.”

  “Mr. Grindstone, why not? There’s so much to experience: the parade, the food, the merchants, meeting peo
ple from all over Element, and, of course, all the competitions! They’re so much fun to watch. Maybe your kids were hinting that they wanted to go when they were talking about Celestial’s Brightflame.”

  With his patience wearing thin, Grizz interrupted Dart. “I don’t take my kids because my focus is here at the shop.” He put a mitt on and picked up the axe he was working on. “Creating weapons like this, weapons warriors use to save and protect lives when they aren’t playing their stupid little games is what our job is. It’s not standing around talking all day. Now be quiet and get back to work. For once, I would like to be done on time so I can go home and eat dinner with my family.”

  Dart sighed in frustration. It wasn’t easy working for the Dwarf, but, he’d learned a lot about the art of blacksmithing from his master in the past six months. Grizz was one of the best blacksmiths in Serendale. Unfortunately, Grizz’s skillset failed to translate into profit. Serendale’s warrior leader, Commander Krause, prioritized ordering weapons and armor from light-skinned blacksmiths, which Grizz wasn’t. Grizz typically only received work orders from warriors who wanted custom work who didn’t discriminate based on his dark-brown pigmentation.

  Dart often wondered why his master got so angry whenever he brought up anything about the warriors. There was obviously some part of Grizz’s past in which he felt wronged by them. Dart had heard rumors from some of his friends of the bad things the twenty-eight-year-old Dwarf had done before settling down in Serendale. Supposedly, Grizz was one of the most wanted men in the kingdom, who changed his name and moved to Serendale after murdering a bunch of people. He also heard Grizz had been the leader of an underground alliance that helped monsters plan attacks on cities. Most recently, someone had said Grizz once spent time in prison. Another added to that rumor by saying it had been Holders Keep, the most notorious penitentiary.

  Since his master never talked about his past, Dart could not say which of the rumors might have been true, but the Dwarf certainly looked capable of any of them. Grizz stood at 5’4” and looked incredibly intimidating with his head shaved completely bald and tattoos inked into his dark-skinned scalp. He made up for his lack of hair with his huge, black beard. Usually kept in partial braids, he would stroke them between his thumb and forefinger whenever he stood behind Dart, criticizing mistakes in the items he crafted.

  Adding to his menacing appearance, his brow was always furled and his jaw was clenched more often than not. Dart wished he could understand what the Halfman was always so mad about. He had seen Grizz annoyed and frustrated, but he had yet to see his master angry, which was a line he did not want to cross. “There’s not a warrior in Serendale that could restrain him,” he had told his friends.

  He could tell his master was strong, and it wasn’t just because of the Dwarf’s tree-trunk arms. Whenever Dart crafted a tool or weapon at the forge, the hammering and grinding exhausted him, but Grizz did not get winded. All day long he labored at an intensely fast pace without breaking a sweat. Dwarves were known for their raw strength and power, but he had yet to see Grizz even begin to reach his limits.

  “We’re done for today,” the blacksmith barked after four hours in which no more than ten words were spoken.

  Dart looked down at his master who he stood a half-foot taller than since he was a Human. Staring into the brown eyes just above Grizz’s oversized Dwarven nose, the teenager saw something odd. It was something that he always noticed this time of day. Every late afternoon when Grizz decided to close shop, there was a brief moment where his angry look subsided and there was a twinkle in his eyes. It was clear that he loved being done with work so he could go home and be with his family. Everyone in Serendale loved Grizz’s wife, Juliana, one of the local schoolteachers who defied all expectations for a Dwarven woman.

  Stereotypically, Dwarven women were larger in the waist with hands and feet like a man’s, but Juliana was different. With sharp blue eyes and long auburn hair, she was among the most beautiful females in Serendale. People had questioned why she wanted to marry Grizz, but she told everyone that behind his intimidating appearance there was a kind and gentle man.

  “Hi, honey,” Juliana said, after her husband walked in the door. Grizz shed his soaked, dripping cloak. The whole walk home had been in a downpour of rain.

  His wife was in the middle of cooking a turkey for dinner. Since her hands were messy, she gave Grizz a quick peck of a kiss instead of the tight hug she usually gave him when he came home.

  “Did you feel it kick at all today?” he asked, resting his hands on his wife’s large belly, hoping to feel movement.

  “Just briefly, around midday.” When Juliana saw her husband’s disappointed face, she encouraged him, “Don’t worry, you’ll get to feel the baby soon enough.”

  Trying to capitalize on the fact that his wife felt sorry for him, Grizz reached around her to steal a pinch of stuffing out of a bowl, but Juliana abruptly slapped his hand away and said, “You know the rule. No sampling. Wait until dinner,” she ordered, continuing to prepare the food. “How’d work go today? How’s your apprentice?”

  “Dart?” Grizz nodded approvingly. “Besides trying to strike up a conversation with me every second, he’s doing well. He’s making a lot of progress in his crafting.”

  “That’s good to hear. Though I’m sure it’s only because you’re such an excellent teacher,” Juliana said, turning around and using her finger to dot her husband’s large nose with flour.

  Nash, Grizz’s five-year-old son, who was sitting on the floor playing ball and jacks, laughed at his father. Bending down, the Dwarf asked in a playful voice, “What’s so funny?” pretending he didn’t know he had flour on his bulbous nose.

  Seeing his mother come stand behind his father with a finger over her lips, Nash knew she wanted him to keep it a secret. The boy tried to conceal his grin as he innocently shrugged his shoulders.

  After a playful game of tickling his son, Grizz smiled and wiped the flour off his nose. Turning towards his wife, his smile immediately dropped off his face as he whispered, “How’d everything go with him today?”

  Nash had been born with a disease that left him twice as small as boys his same age. He had trouble using his limbs, especially his legs. Grizz and Juliana were forced to carry him everywhere, but since he was five now and getting older and stronger, they were trying to get him accustomed to using crutches, which they hoped would eventually help him walk on his own. He had been testing them out for a week, but would constantly fall. Even when he did manage to stand up straight, it was evident he struggled to hold himself up.

  Juliana’s glowing smile told him she had good news. “He did so well today,” she said softly, so Nash couldn’t hear. “I think he’s finally starting to get used to the crutches. He said he made it all the way to school without any problems.”

  “Good. Good. Good,” Grizz repeated, relieved at the progress. Everything was happy for a moment until a frown replaced his wife’s glowing smile.

  “Our other son, however, did not have such an impressive day.”

  “What happened?” he asked before she could explain herself.

  Juliana wiped her hands off with a towel and stared into her husband’s eyes. “Liam got into a fight again,” she sighed. “He beat up some boy a couple grades above him after school.”

  For male Dwarves, there was a certain pride whenever children succeeded in anything in which they could use their inherited Dwarven strength. Proud to think of his son winning a fight against someone bigger than him, Grizz smiled, but as soon as his teeth showed, his wife’s eyes narrowed.

  I hate when she gives me that look, he thought, forcing his grin to disappear.

  “Don’t smile,” Juliana said sternly. “This is nothing to be happy about.”

  “He’s eight years old,” Grizz disagreed, gently reaching out and putting his hands on her shoulders, knowing she was upset about Liam’s repeated offenses. “Boys will be boys, Jules. It’s not that
big of a deal.”

  “It’s not right. He shouldn’t be solving his problems with his fists. He gave the other boy a black eye.”

  “Did he say what it was about?”

  “No, I sent him to his room as soon as we got home.”

  “I’ll go talk to him.”

  Walking into his son’s bedroom, Grizz came upon Liam, who was lying down on his straw-stuffed bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t move when his father walked in.

  Grizz purposely didn’t say a word. He moved a reading chair that was in the corner so it faced the bed. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sat down, leaned back, and stared at his son.

  I will not speak until he does. Let him think I’m angry.

  After patiently waiting for a couple minutes, the uncomfortable eight-year-old turned to his father with teary eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked as he looked away, hating to show weakness in front of his father.

  “Sorry for what?” Grizz asked in a voice neither angry nor gentle.

  “For fighting.”

  “Why did you hit him?”

  “It was Ivan Griegan. He made fun of Nash. He made up a rhyme about him.”

  He’s complained about this “Griegan” kid many times before. Last time he was calling Liam derogatory names because he has black skin instead of white. I can’t imagine what was said this time.

  “Tell me how it went.” He knew Liam wouldn’t want to repeat what he had heard, but Grizz needed to hear what had led to the altercation.

  Instead of answering, Liam began to cry. He’s clenching his fists tightly. Whatever was said must’ve been awful because giving the kid a black eye wasn’t enough. He’s still angry about it.