Genesis of War: The Realm of Areon Book 1

by R. T. Cole

  Paxton had a look of utter confusion.

  “Me?” he argued.

  “If you hadn’t started that fight with my brother, then those damn bandits would never have ambushed us!”

  “Your brother is a fool! Never once in his life has he cared about his training, but the moment he has Ashra to perform in front of, then...”

  His voice trailed off as his head was almost knocked off his neck. Merroc had to step in and hold his brother back from punching Paxton again.

  “Don’t get up, Pax. Just don’t,” Jasian warned. “I won’t have you stand there and force the blame on me for your dishonor.”

  Wiping the blood from his mouth, Paxton spat on the ground.

  “There you go again,” he said. “Always talking about honor and the art of fighting as if you have all the experience in the world. Well, look what happens when someone touches a tiny nerve with you,” he motioned towards his own face. “Nothing but an animal.”

  Jasian wanted to hit him again. He thought long and hard about it. But, he knew that Paxton was saying these things to antagonize him. He calmed himself down and Merroc let him go.

  “I won’t give you what you want, Paxton.” He sat in front of the fire again, staring into the flames. “Enjoy your wine,” he said without looking up.

  Paxton stormed off into the woods, guzzling as much wine as he could on the way. Merroc sat next to his brother by the fire, also looking into the flames. The traveler was looking around at them, eyes widened.

  “Maybe we should all have a drink,” he suggested.

  Taking his advice, the rest of the group took turns drinking some wine from the same leather flask. The traveler had even used some of it to pour over Rudi’s wound as he pulled the arrow out of Rudi’s ribcage. Rudi’s scream pierced through the night, awaking all the wildlife in the immediate area. Ashra searched quickly for a small stick for Rudi to bite down on, in order to lessen the noise. The last thing they wanted was to be attacked while they tried to take care of Rudi; even more so, they did not want anyone to hear the noise, and then decide to attack them in the middle of the night once their location had been revealed.

  After Rudi passed out again, Jasian watched as the traveler mixed the herbs needed to heal Rudi.

  “If only you could perform magic, then this would be much quicker,” Jasian joked.

  The traveler shot Jasian a terrible look. His eyes and brows lifted in bewilderment and he shook his head rapidly.

  “I would never use magic on anybody, even if I was capable of it.”

  This took Jasian by surprise. He was beginning to think that everything with this man was a jest. It was almost comforting to think that the man seemed to fear something.

  “I apologize, friend. I meant no offense,” Jasian admitted.

  The man retreated back to his work with the healing. He felt embarrassed for reacting that way.

  “Mika,” he said. “Mika Gainhart.”

  “The Sageslayer,” Ashra added.

  Merroc and Jasian looked at her with the same expression of confusion.

  “Ah yes. That’s a name that has followed me around somewhat recently,” Mika indicated. “You’ve heard of me?” he asked Ashra.

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she said with restraint. “I’ve known a few Sages over the years: some good and some very bad. But, there are good ones. Why do you feel the need to travel the land, killing them?”

  Mika sighed.

  “No good can ever come of magic, my friends, trust me. The Mystics ruined everything by bringing that plague with them and then sharing it with us.” He noticed some disbelief in their faces as he spoke. “Even if you don’t believe in the legends, surely you can all agree that Sages are real. People openly using magical abilities for personal gain, for power.” He stood up and walked a few feet away, turning his back and stopping as if contemplating something.

  “What happened to you?” Jasian asked.

  Mika let out another sigh, turning around and facing them all.

  “I was once a soldier of Zenithor,” he confessed. In an instant, he received a flurry of uneven looks, as well as an exasperating “What?!” from Ashra.

  He raised his hands in defense.

  “Please. I left them years ago now. There were many of us that did not agree with our Lord’s... ideals. So, we deserted.”

  Merroc wasn’t fully convinced.

  “That’s why you hate magic? Because you didn’t agree with Kelbain’s methods?” Merroc wanted to know the rest.

  Mika shook his head sullenly.

  “No. That isn’t the reason,” he said. “We deserted because of Kelbain. But, my hatred for magic comes from a more personal place; though, Kelbain didn’t help with that perspective either.”

  He sat back down by the fire, attempting to spark the flames further so they wouldn’t extinguish.

  “Before I joined the army, I lived in a small village with my parents, just between Zenithor and Woodhaven. At the time, there were many battles being fought between the two, but surprisingly, we were never caught in the middle of it.” His eyes sunk as he went on. “One day, the army of Woodhaven came through. My father thought they’d want our gold, maybe even our horses. But, what they wanted was a massacre. My parents told me to hide in our stable while they stood and defended our home. I went to the stable to grab a sword off the rack and ran back to them.” He looked at the faces of the others and explained, “A Woodhaven soldier cut them down in front of me. The Commander himself. A man named Draven Darkwood.”

  Jasian was the one to speak up after Mika shared his story.

  “Was this man a Sage?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  Mika grunted slightly.

  “He is a Sage. He’s an Evolutionary; and I’ve been tracking him down for a long time,” Mika said.

  The others shifted a bit. They had heard stories about Evolutionaries, but never encountered one before. As most people believed, they were under the impression that Evolutionaries didn’t exist anymore.

  “Mika... maybe someone killed this man already,” Ashra offered. “You kill them by chopping their heads off, right? He had to have met his end already, especially if he’s as awful as you say he is.”

  “He lives,” Mika retorted. “I will find him, one way or another.”

  “Maybe we can help you with that,” a voice said out of nowhere.

  “Rudi!” Ashra yelled.

  The others beamed at their companions’ recovery; even Merroc smirked at his cousin.

  “Thought we’d lost you there for a moment,” he said.

  “Not today, cousin,” Rudi smiled back. Merroc knelt beside him and grasped his arm in respect. Rudi turned his head toward Mika.

  “Thank you, Mika. I owe you my life.”

  “So, you were awake this whole time?” Mika pointed out.

  “Eh... I was in and out,” Rudi laughed. “You know you’re quite famous,” he added.

  “How so? This ‘Sageslayer’ business?”

  “I haven’t heard that name before, but I’m guessing it has to do with a story that I’ve heard about you. Is it true that you fought in Single Combat against Baldric Brock of the Frostford?”

  Surprised by his own renown, Mika smiled again as he pulled out his battle-axe.

  “Where do you think I got this beauty?”

  Chapter 16

  LORDS OF THE WEST

  The two men knelt in front of the marble figure that stood at the back of the room. Lit up by torches, the face on the statue appeared to be regal, yet intimidating at the same time. When Kelbain was permitted to return home after the fall of Magor, he immediately had a likeness of his father erected in the throne room. Even as he sat in his father’s former chair, the effigy in the background could be seen towering over the extent of the chamber, with its cloak shaped as if it was flowing, and its arms outstretched, holding the torches, signifying Magor’s power to summon flames at will.

  Kelbain and Zane had finished sayin
g their silent words to the image of Magor and both stood up. Walking towards the floor of the throne room, they each stopped at the sidelines to choose their weapon for battle. As anyone could’ve predicted, Kelbain chose his own sword, Hyperion: Magor’s former sword. Zane chose to wield two swords, neither of which belonged to him.

  “I won’t bloody my own weapon with the blood of a fool,” he boasted to his father.

  Zane had grown cocky over the past few days, as he and Kelbain used the customary amount of time to prepare for Single Combat. Zane was the challenger, so he was required to come up with the rules and stipulations of the duel. He had, of course, demanded that his father not use his powers as an Elemental, but also agreed to dismiss Second Combat. When Single Combat ended, the combatants’ witnesses could not challenge the winner afterwards. This upset Dirce greatly, as she feared for Zane’s life and preferred to seek retribution if he fell in battle.

  “Without his power, he’s nothing,” Zane had told Dirce. “I’ll make quick work of him, you’ll see. We can have everything we’ve wanted and more.” He pulled her in close and kissed her passionately. The moment seemed to last forever as they embraced, and as it ended, Dirce could only form half of a smile.

  “You are a fool, my love. You know this,” she jested.

  “A fool who will soon rule the West,” he replied.

  Dirce almost wished Zane hadn’t chosen her as his Witness. If Zane failed to defeat Kelbain, she did not want to see it. But, she believed in him, and believed that Kelbain was much weaker without the use of the elements; that she could agree with.

  She stood in front of the throne, watching as Zane pulled his two swords from the table, suddenly aware that this fight was going to begin shortly. She studied the soldiers that surrounded the room, wondering what they were thinking as their King was about to battle their Prince. She smirked as she then began to realize that they would all have a new King very soon. The feeling faded, however, as she took note of the man standing next to her.

  “After this is over, we could always sneak back to my room if you need the comfort,” Draven slyly suggested.

  Draven was chosen by Kelbain to be his Witness. He assumed that the King could not trust any of his soldiers to be unbiased when it came to their loyalty to Kelbain or Zane; Kelbain later confirmed this to be true, and Draven knew enough to ask for even more gold to perform the task. Kelbain may have paid him for his services for the war, but being a Witness to a bout of Single Combat was different. Whether or not the losing party agreed to forego Second Combat, it was his responsibility to make sure that all individuals stayed on course for the battle. The King obliged to Draven’s request, of course; he grew a bit suspicious of all that surrounded him once he learned of his son’s, and his betrothed’s, betrayal. But Draven was no fool; he knew that if anyone else broke the rules of the fight, Kelbain wouldn’t hesitate to turn everyone in the room to ash. Draven was a glorified bodyguard.

  “You disgust me,” Dirce snapped back at him. “Keeping Kelbain in power is not the wisest move. He doesn’t want to rule Areon; he wants to bring his father back from the dead,” she scoffed.

  Draven considered her for a moment.

  “He’s nothing but a grieving child,” she added.

  “What would you have me do?” Draven inquired.

  “Help us,” she pleaded. “Help us overthrow him and take back the West. We’ll even name you Commander of the Woodhaven army again.”

  This hit a sour note with Draven. The specifics behind his disappearance from his home have always been a mystery to most, and he wasn’t about to share those details with Dirce.

  “Do not speak of things you do not understand, woman,” Draven scathed.

  “He knows where my sister is,” she shot back, grabbing his arm.

  Now he could see the resentment within her. The reasoning for her betrayal was all too clear.

  “One of you is a grieving child. The other is just a child, scared because her sister isn’t here to protect her.” He shook his head in disappointment. “You’re both more alike than you think.”

  Dirce let his arm loose, as she stared at him with complete disdain. She then leaned close to him and whispered, “Once my love wins this fight, your beheading will be our first command.” Draven looked at her, still smirking. She added, “I will have what is mine: my rightful place in the world.”

  Soon, they turned their attention to the two men in the room, ready to fight. A lump of fear and excitement began to form in Dirce’s throat. She was ready for whatever outcome presented itself.

  Kelbain held Hyperion by his side, awaiting Zane’s first move. His son lunged at him and the duel began. Both men clashed swords, with Zane landing more slashes on Hyperion as he used both swords aggressively. Kelbain was able to parry these blows effectively, being the more skilled fighter.

  “Give this up, son. You’re finished,” Kelbain said coldly.

  “Never!” Zane shouted.

  The Prince swung and swung, each collision bearing down on his father’s sword, with no result. Zane was strong, but was unable to gain the upper hand in the fight, even though he had Kelbain cornered.

  “AARGH!” Zane yelled in frustration. Continuing his assault, Zane began to sweat profusely, tiring himself out in the process.

  Kelbain took advantage of this, using his blade to knock one of Zane’s swords out of his hands. As the sword clanged to the floor, Kelbain pushed Zane back to the middle of the room, gaining ground again. The two of them struck at each other in an epic show of swordplay.

  “You’re more skilled than I thought, boy,” Kelbain said as they came to a halt again.

  “Many things have happened under your nose, Father,” Zane mocked. “Why should my prowess be any different?”

  Once again, they fought. Blow after blow, parry after parry, the King and the Prince battled on as if it were an art form. Dirce and Draven looked on in anticipation. Dirce’s heart beat faster by the minute. Draven showed no real sign of emotion, but grew worried that Zane would actually pull off a win against his father.

  Suddenly, with an overhead crash, Zane overpowered his father, bringing him to one knee as the King continued to defend himself from the ground.

  “I’ve seen this, Father,” Zane cried out between impacts. “Your defeat at my hands! Me sitting on the throne!”

  Kelbain grunted with each hit. He used both hands to hold his sword in place, defending from the onslaught. Zane had then abruptly stalled and spoke softly to his father.

  “I’ll let you in on something, Father,” Zane said between breaths. “I lied to you. I never saw your plan about resurrecting Grandfather. Dirce got into your mind. She’s more powerful than you realize.”

  Kelbain expressed a look of hatred as he shot his gaze toward Dirce. He felt completely violated and beyond betrayed at that point. As he looked back up at his son, noticing the sword descending toward him, he held his off-hand to Zane’s face and formed a ball of fire. Blinded, Zane reeled backwards, holding his hands over his eyes and let out a blood-curdling scream.

  “NO!” Dirce shrieked.

  Kelbain stood up, panting, and walked toward his son. Grabbing Zane by the back of the neck, he slowly slid Hyperion into his son’s heart. Dirce’s anguished screams could be heard throughout the castle as Zane dropped to the ground, lifeless.

  Draven narrowed his eyes at Kelbain, silently judging him for his disregard for the rules that Zane announced for this Single Combat. He then put away such thoughts and focused on the amount of gold that he would receive for his service.

  Kelbain walked over to Dirce, as she was on her knees in tears.

  “No honor... You violated the rules... No honor,” she kept muttering as she stared at the ground.

  “The same could be said about you, my love,” Kelbain said. “You peered into my mind?! I gave you that power!” Kelbain was no longer subtle with Dirce. He may not have known about her powers until recently, but he still felt that this was an
ultimate betrayal. “Just like Fulton Prastor, you’re right where you belong,” he sneered. Dirce, still on her knees, sobbed quietly.

  Emotionless, Kelbain changed his view from Dirce to the corpse of his son. He gestured to it as he spoke to the nearest soldiers.

  “Take this and throw it into the Crimson Sea.”

  Chapter 17

  NORTHERN CONSPIRACY

  Thasus lay silently, almost unaware of the figure beside him. The wild-woman ran her long finger nails along Thasus’s chest, but he paid it no mind, as he was in deep thought. After using his power again the day before, he had a troubling vision: The man that he was to search for, in order to ensure an alliance with the Frostford, was currently traveling with his brother, Rudi.

  Thasus had attempted to check on his younger brothers to make sure that they were free from danger. Knowing that Andemar was perfectly fine at Angelia, he concentrated more on Rudi’s location, only to discover the mysterious man sitting next to his brother, wielding the axe he took from Baldric Brock. Cale Brock had thoroughly described the legendary axe, in order for Thasus to track it, and Thasus recognized it immediately as the man flaunted it in front of his new companions.

  Why would Rudi befriend a man such as Mika Gainhart?, he had been pondering since he saw them together. Though, a short time later, Thasus envisioned Mika helping Rudi with his bandages. Aside from worrying about how Rudi received those injuries, he soon realized that Mika wasn’t what he seemed, at least in terms of how Cale described the man. Of course, Cale had painted a picture of a bloodthirsty killer. The “Sageslayer”, the people called him. It was obvious to Thasus that Cale held a skewed viewpoint of the man, still clinging to the murder of his father.

  “Ow!” Thasus yelped.

  He felt as if his entire ear was almost torn off, as the wild-woman expressed her outrage at being ignored.

  “You ready to go again?” she whispered in his ear.

  Thasus had no need to find an establishment to his liking, as Lord Cale provided the woman personally, as a token of his gratitude for hunting Mika down. The woman was hazel-haired, with green eyes and a very curvaceous frame. He knew full-well that this sort of encounter was his weakness, but failed to see the harm in it. Thasus quickly accepted the offering.