Battle Mage: Dragon Mage (Tales of Alus)

by Wigboldy, Donald

  The wizard chanted a new spell. Lightning flew in much the way the girl’s had though it was much more directed. The bolt bore through a pair of werebeasts that were not expecting such an attack. The other two mages reacted with their own magics from their positions. A new wave of beasts did their best to dodge streams of lightning and wove their way closer to attack the men once more.

  Ashleen screamed and a thunderous bolt of lightning reacted from her skin as a werebeast broke through to latch onto her right arm. She was a wilder type of wizard. As such, the girl had learned to harness magic in her own way before being found by the guild. Her use of lightning could often be called up without a word. The demonstration of her unique skills was evidenced by the smoking corpse of the werebeast at her feet.

  Blood showed on the arm partially bared by the werebeast’s tearing bite, but the girl still lived. Unfortunately, the guard behind her no longer did as another beast tore out his neck in the confusion.

  Deiclonus wasn’t sure what happened next. The first werebeast to have its chest explode towards the carriage was nearest Ashleen. His attention was focused on those nearest him and he missed the strangeness as all of their efforts were designed to push the enemy back. Over the howls and growling, his ears heard a new battle cry, however. Such a sound couldn’t have sounded better to his ears if angels themselves sang out.

  “Southwall! Southwall!” the cry began to gather the werebeasts’ attention. That call and the sight of several more of their brethren from the front and right side of the carriage dying explosively quickly revealed a new enemy joining the fray.

  Unsure of what was happening to their brothers, the werebeasts stalled in their attacks. The wizards struck back at a few of their number in the distraction adding to their confusion.

  Thundering hooves and men with glowing blue spears and shields rushed into the fray. The monsters now found their flanks being overwhelmed by this new force. The ones towards the back and left were slower to respond to the new enemy, but as the horsemen continued their slaughter, even they began to withdraw from the new attackers.

  Howling in despair and frustration, the dark horde turned tail and quickly disappeared back into the forest. The riders didn’t bother to pursue. They knew the beasts’ abilities in the brush. Horses just couldn’t catch them. A few more minutes fight and all that remained on the road were men and the corpses of both sides strewn around the carriage and road.

  Deiclonus felt an overwhelming rush of exhaustion as he leaned onto his staff for support and took in his surroundings. More walking stick than magic staff, the elder wizard moved to check Ashleen who had slumped onto one of the dead horses appearing drained, in pain, and checking her shoulder. Wendle joined him with a limp and showing numerous nicks on his cloak and robes that attested to close quarters fighting as well.

  As the elder wizard checked on the girl, who wanly smiled up at his attention, the new horsemen rode to surround the wounded vehicle. One man clad in mostly brown rode to face them and saluted. “Falcon Trillon, at your disposal, sir. I’m afraid that we weren’t able to save you all, but we had to chase this pack from quite away to get here.”

  The wizard looked up at a young man that looked to be in his very early twenties at most. Light brown hair, barely mussed, topped an uncovered head. Deiclonus also noted an aura about the man. Around the aura, the snow seemed to bend and flee from him as if sliding over a bubble. It was an odd aura for a mere falcon of Southwall to have. Such mages were not generally known to be strong in magic. Also like a wilder they differed from true wizards, though they did have their uses as more than a dozen werebeasts attested. “Greetings, Falcon Trillon, I am Deiclonus, wizard of the first order. Your timely rescue is still much appreciated, young man. Thankfully, our Southwall allies apparently still guard the wall during the winter.”

  The falcon nodded. “Never enjoyable, but it has been necessary with the Dark One’s beasts roaming more freely the past few years,” he agreed. “You have wounded?”

  The wizard glanced around. The guardsmen numbered three standing. Looking to their faces, the men shook their heads sadly. Three then, the rest all slain. He knew they were lucky that any of them lived. Had the Southwallers not come along when they did, they would all most likely be dead. “My apprentices have their share of cuts and bites but they should survive until a healer can see to them.

  The falcon dismounted. Checking Ashleen’s arm for himself, he merely said one word, “Heal.”

  As the wizard watched, to his amazement the wound swiftly seemed to heal over and barely a scar remained where the savage bite had torn her fleshy upper arm. The man went to his pack and took a partial loaf of bread and began to chew on it as he went to check the others.

  “You battle mages can heal?” the elder wizard remarked in surprise. “I’ve not seen many full wizards who could heal as well.”

  Glancing at Deiclonus, Falcon Trillon replied, “It’s a bit new, and like you wizards, not many of us have the skill.”

  “Impressive,” was the reply.

  “Thank you very much,” Ashleen added as she tested the arm. “If you’re a tailor besides all my needs would be met,” the wilder smiled as she ruefully played with her torn sleeves. The skin was a bit pink from the cold but she could move the appendage as if nothing had happened.

  While the battle mage had distracted them with his magic, the other two passengers had exited. A man with a rounded belly that could be assumed even through the bulk of his robes and cloak was also quite bald. With his floppy hat perched atop his head, the man appeared to be quite full of himself as well. Noting the dead around him nearly unblinkingly, their deaths seemed to bother him little. The second to exit was a young, attractive woman with dark curled hair and dark brown eyes that could probably hide many mysteries in their depths. Unlike the nobleman, the girl paled and tried to look away from all the blood and death.

  The man checked his footing to avoid soiling his fur boots, before noting the falcon. “I assume we have you to thank for our salvation, young man?”

  Nodding, the falcon replied, “Yes, sir, I am Falcon Sebastian Trillon. I am in charge of this squad. We noted this pack on the move and came as quickly as our horses could carry us.

  “I am afraid that some of your men were dead before we could reach you.”

  The man patted the air, waving off the worries, “That is not your fault, lad. They’ll be hard to replace anytime soon though I am afraid. At least once we reach the wall; we should be reasonably safe for the rest of our travel.”

  Sebastian nodded, “This seems to be an odd time of year to attempt to travel though, sir.”

  “One needs to keep the line of communication open as much as possible despite the weather.”

  The round little man seemed to start in recognition of a mistake. “I am afraid that I forgot to introduce myself. I am so used to someone else being around to do so. I am Lord Romonus, of Treatenshire, ambassador of Kardor. This is my lovely daughter, Helena.”

  “Pleased to meet you both.” The falcon glanced to his men who had worked to remove the two fallen horses from their harness. While the remaining four in the team looked agitated, they appeared none the worse for wear despite the battle that had surrounded them and their falls. “I think we have your team put back together as best we can here, my lord. Perhaps we should move on before they find reinforcements and decide to return.”

  Already pale from the death around them, Helena somehow managed to whiten even more at the idea and quickly retreated inside the carriage.

  Glancing around apparently looking for someone, Lord Romonus said to Deiclonus, “Kerrick seems to have been slain as well. Would you have your apprentice drive us to the wall, wizard?”

  The man in question nodded and gestured for Wendle to take his place on the bench. While the younger man didn’t appear overly enthused to sit on the seat and drive through the remaining snowy miles, he moved to comply with his master’s wishes.

  “It’s n
ot too far to the wall from here,” Sebastian stated trying to make the man feel better. The falcon also noted that the wizards of Kardor had not put up barriers against the wind as he had. It was a magic taught to him by a wizard. Surely, a full wizard would know and use the trick in this kind of weather if they could?

  He shrugged and dismissed the thought. It mattered little. Soon the carriage was running once more, but this time nine battle mages accompanied the three remaining guardsmen on their ride to the wall.

  For Darius, the High Wizard’s Origin Read:

  The Emperor’s Shadow War

  Chapter 1- Dante

  The smells of blood and death lay upon the plain. The orange light of a new day's sun added its color to the already crimson stained earth. The cries of crows and ravens broke the still air with their raucous calls of delight and the occasional squabble over a choice piece of meat. The fights ended quickly though. There was more than enough for even their great numbers, but the large ebony scavengers had their work cut out for them even still. Armor that had sought to protect the men of Certe in life resisted the strength of their beaks even though it had failed its responsibility so completely.

  A sudden movement from the center of the dead startled the scavengers from their fare. The air turned dark as the flock lifted angrily from their meals. A groan from the final surviving defender was drowned out by the squawks of the brazen birds. The warrior fought his way weakly to his knees. A hand brushed absently at the blood blinding his vision. Looking back to the ground in front of him, the man found his broken sword.

  The largest of the ravens swooped downwards to land before the man. It looked at him curiously. The man thought that he could see disbelief in the creature's eyes which mirrored that which he also felt. It squawked at him as if to ask him how it was that he still lived.

  A croak through his raw throat was his ineffectual retort. The soldier coughed and the effort nearly threw him back onto his face in the gore. He spied an unopened canteen on a body nearby and reached out for it. Lifting the container to his mouth, the fallen warrior poured the liquid between his lips. The silver haired man rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out. The water had turned red before it even touched the blood stained earth.

  Pouring the contents of the canteen back into his mouth, he forced his throat to swallow. Once started, the man couldn't stop until the vessel was drained.

  The raven hadn't moved throughout the whole of his efforts.

  The man stared at the creature in amazement. The thought of the scavenger drew him to look about him. The death surrounding him caused an unbidden gasp. He could tell that the hundreds of bodies mostly belonged to his comrades and allies. The army of King Druin lay about him in great unkempt piles.

  He forced himself to remember how the losses could possibly have happened. The sight of a dark misshapen body sent waves of memory flowing harshly back into his consciousness. Tears of bitterness and failure came unbidden as he remembered it all.

  Dante Betrice of the Certe Alliance Guard had come with his comrades when reports of the dark horde invading their lands had come to them. King Druin ruled in the south of the alliance and had sent the first battalion to meet the unknown intruders. General Batist had confidently led his men to the plain of Turo and there the army found that they faced the horror of creatures not born of their world.

  The creatures consisting of two main types wore black armor strangely discolored by a crimson gloss. The smaller creatures all had dark green skin, a green that resembled that of an evergreen in winter. Small and quick they darted in and out and around the humans with their long knives. If a man wasn't careful, the beasts would take swipes at his legs going for the tendons in particular. He had seen many a soldier fall to the tactic and the creatures were quick to pounce in small groups to finish off their victim as well. If they didn't get the kill, their larger cousins would use their axes and clubs instead. With rough skin the color of oak bark, the creatures were nearly the height of a full grown man and had chests wider than a man's shoulder width. The larger beasts had formed a core through which their smaller cousins operated.

  With power and speed, the dark warriors had quickly dismantled the entire command.

  Dante had fought valiantly. Even as the men around him fell, he had continued to hold his ground. Dark creatures could be found slain in the midst of the Certe Guardsmen, and some were the result of his work. Then the numbers had closed in on him. Their mass proved too strong for his blade and the shield he had carried was left in tatters.

  This brought him back the question of his continued existence. "How can I be here?" he questioned the raven still before him.

  Cocking its shiny black head at him curiously, the bird answered with a softer call. Dante looked at the creature before him in wonderment that it was still perched before him. Shaking his head slightly until he realized that the motion caused him dizziness, Dante then chose to try and stand. The raven retreated only slightly as it continued to watch.

  The soldier chose to ignore the bird and turned to the task of finding a suitable sword and shield to replace those that he had lost. He also found a pair of animal skin canteens and a couple of travel packs of food. Dante began eating ravenously. He had been famished. The hunger was greater than any he could ever remember.

  He tossed a few scraps towards the raven though there was more than enough left here to feed it. Its comrades had already started withdrawing now that even their great appetites had been sated. His own hunger was as well now from a less morbid version of dinner.

  The task before him had to be a return to Castle Trea and to find out if any of the others had made it back to warn the king. Having eaten, the man found his strength returning quickly. Dante began picking his way through the masses of dead. It was a disheartening experience. He found many a friend lying broken and often picked over by the scavengers. The body of General Batist was found near the rear of the battle surrounded by his personal guard.

  Dante shook his head. The man had refused to flee though his command was being torn apart before him. Dante considered such an act foolish. The General should have retreated to the castle to warn the king. There was nothing to be gained by losing such an important man. His pride had caused the superb soldier to die which was a shame since Batist had been a renowned strategist and tactician. In the face of such a loss, Dante guessed that he had been unwilling to admit defeat.

  Picking up his pace as he finally was clear of the main killing field, Dante rushed as quickly as he could manage. The castle was nearly twenty miles south. If he could get there soon enough, the soldier could prepare the king for what his troops would be facing.

  Walking all day, eventually Dante spotted smoke ahead of him. A dark flash and the soft rustle of wings, alerted him to the raven's presence again. It had followed him this far oddly enough. Perhaps it was still certain of Dante's death and had chosen him as its future meal, he thought wryly. But as the bird soared on ahead towards the smoke, Dante realized that the bird would have something else to feed on first.

  The bird had disappeared long ago, but Dante knew that the creature would be waiting ahead for him though he had no reason for such odd behavior. The warrior followed the road as best he could and before long he found the source of the smoke.

  A small village, through which the Certen army had passed only a day ago, was now a smoking ruin. As he entered the outskirts of the town, Dante could smell the death before him even as he had on the battlefield. Animals and scavenger birds were here as well. Most scattered at the approach of the man. The brazen raven appeared before him in the road and turned to him with a cry.

  "So nice of you to wait," he mumbled sarcastically.

  As he searched the village for any survivors, Dante began to wonder about something else. The invaders’ identity was entirely unknown to him. They had appeared out of virtually nowhere. Those that had alerted the king had not known from where they had come either. More than five hundred strong, a true army of
odd creatures the likes of which had never been known to this region of the Taltan continent, if they had ever existed anywhere in all of the world of Alus, and they had just appeared out of nowhere to attack and destroy.

  Armies of man they knew. There were even dwarves rumored to be a true separate race up in the north, though he had never seen one. The myths of a race of gargoyles and the existence of dragons had made their way to Certe from North Continent as well. The source of old wives' tales to be told to naughty young children or around the campfire to try and spook the rawest of recruits, but now these aberrations were here. This slaughter was no wives’ tale.

  Dante could find no survivors left alive and so he proceeded south to warn the king, even as the man continued to ask the unanswerable questions.

  The raven continued to follow but revealed nothing to him.

  Voran: The Night Guardian

  Chapter 1- Guardian

  The city, never fully asleep, always imbued with its own sound, quiets momentarily and only the sound of the wind whistling through metal and brick ways stands out. A sliver of the moon gives light in places, but doesn’t penetrate the alleys where monsters prey on the innocent. Stories of wild dogs and coyotes made the news, but it was often a different predator that would not come into the light that was most dangerous.

  A woman’s voice cries out weakly.

  A green bulb changes and the sounds of nearby cars drown out another sound, the sound of flesh tearing and blood dripping to the ground where it escapes the mouth of the predator.

  The woman’s voice continues to call for help, but her strength is fading and her sounds seem to go unheard. The creature continues to draw out her blood, feasting. It has done this before, though he is still young and new to the feeding to sate his hunger. The predator that was once a man is now merely a vessel of desire for the only food that will stop his hunger, if only for awhile. The woman’s head lolls to the side, her energy spent as her life begins to fade.