Warrior: The War Chronicles I

by Sean Golden

  Mayrie’s face softened with concern and she reached forward before pulling her hands back in fear of hurting Lirak’s scorched flesh.

  “They have finally paid,” Lirak said, reaching for Mayrie’s hand and pulling himself back to his feet. Then the four turned, and with the Hanorian soldiers following, they left the devastation behind them.

  It was several moments before Lirak realized he still wore the red robe and carried the red wand. He gazed up into the sky, amazed to see no sign of the ribbons of power, as if it had all been spent. Stopping for a moment, he removed the robe and rolled it around the wand, tying it into a tight bundle which he hung below his quiver. As he worked, he found himself unsurprised to notice that his blisters and burns were fading even as he walked, and the searing pain was becoming a dull ache. They continued on toward the blasted and broken wall. Dedrik steered them to the west where the wall was still intact, and was away from other eyes.

  As they approached the wall, Dedrik reached into a pouch on his belt and pulled out a shiny object. This he pushed into a hole between two stone blocks, and twisted it. A sharp “click” came from the stone and Dedrik pushed. The stone block swung backwards without a sound, and a black hole opened in the wall.

  “Quickly” Dedrik said, and ducked into the hole. The guard reached in, removing something from inside, and struck a spark which grew into a tiny flame. Holding the flame, he also moved into the hole. Lirak’s group followed behind, leaning over to enter. In the small light of the tiny fire Lirak saw a tunnel surrounded by massive stone blocks on each side and above. It ended some twenty strides away with another stone block. Dedrik was already pushing on that and Lirak could see it opened onto a grassy meadow on the other side. Dedrik stepped through and whistled loudly, barking orders in that strangely familiar language.

  They moved through quickly, eager to get out of the unnatural feel of the tunnel. Then, standing in the meadow on the far side, the three Dwon stood for a long moment looking at strange things around them. Stone paths wound along the base of the wall and out to stone buildings spaced along the path. Far to the east they had their first view of Hanor, the capital city with its numerous towers and gleaming white wall. Patrik gazed at the shining white stone buildings in open-mouthed wonder, his eyes glowing with a sort of joy Lirak had never experienced.

  But Lirak found himself turning and looking back into the tunnel they had come through. Through the tunnel he could see the bare earth and the thick Dwon forest beyond. A wind whistled through the tunnel bringing the familiar forest smells to Lirak. Then Dedrik barked an order and soldiers began to close both doors. Lirak was unable to turn away from the diminishing view of the forest, feeling the wind and smells of his homeland fade away as his last glimpse of the Dwon forest was cut short by a ground-shuddering thud and then a sharp click as the doors closed, leaving Lirak staring at a blank wall, with only the fading smell of the great forest to give any indication of the world beyond that wall.

  “It’s gone,” Lirak said.

  “What? What’s gone?” Mayrie said, confused.

  “Luh-Yi, the forest, the river… all the world I’ve ever known. Gone.”

  Patrik clapped his hand on Lirak’s good shoulder and gently turned him around until he was facing the distant towers and flags of the city of Hanor. Mayrie’s eyes no longer brimmed with tears as she felt a sense of joy to see Lirak unmasked and vulnerable. For a moment she saw the Lirak she had grown to love in the long-ago days of Luh-Yi. She gently touched his hand and smiled warmly.

  “The past is the past Lirak,” Patrik said, his eyes shining as he gazed at the distant city.

  Dedrik turned to face the villagers. “We have won a great victory today,” he said, “but it is merely one battle.”

  Lirak’s face lost its melancholy look and hardened into the familiar mask he had worn since the fateful day he returned with the firestones. “You’re right Dedrik,” he said. “Our fight has really just begun.”

  This ends Book One of The War Chronicles.

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  Bonus material: Excerpt from Warlock: The War Chronicles II

  Reveling in the enormity of power he held, Lirak teased the flowing ribbons of light into complex patterns and rhythms, churning and knotting above his head. A faint, discordant sound annoyed him, breaking his concentration. Growing louder, it pulled his attention from the sky until he reluctantly looked south. On the far southern edge of the vast, shallow bowl surrounding the hill, blue-clad foot soldiers staggered forward, many with bloody rags wrapped around an arm or a leg. Prince Resaka’s tattered, retreating army had finally arrived. A great noise rose from beyond the bowl’s lip, buzzing like a swarm of hornets. Trumpets rang across the bowl. Panic-stricken blue-clad soldiers rushed down the road towards Lirak’s hill. Black armored Groln riders dashed over the ridge and raced toward the foot soldiers. Immediately the remnants of Domishar cavalry responded, crashing into the black riders, then disengaging and charging again, driving the black riders back, heedless of their own losses.

  Now the black flood of the massive Groln army swarmed over the ridge. Come on, come on, Lirak urged the Groln commander. Just a little farther. Continuing the arcane dance on the hilltop, he molded the power, gathering it, preparing to unleash terror and death. The black tide advanced, filling the bowl in relentless pursuit. Weary Domishar foot soldiers came around the western side of the hill and finally spotted Lirak at the top. A hush spread across the Domishar army. Someone shouted his name, and they rushed headlong to the base of the hill, chanting “Lirak! Lirak!” They spread out in a defensive line between the hill and the advancing black horde.

  The Groln immediately formed ranks and prepared to attack. A harsh ringing sound spread through the bowl as thousands of blades were drawn as one. Lirak held the power, feeling it swell and pulsate, yearning for release. More horns sounded, on both sides. The biting wind brought a smell of blood, sweat and fear to the hilltop. Arranging their troops into tightly packed groups, with long pikes reaching out from behind linked shields, the Groln stayed just beyond crossbow range. Ranks of Groln crossbow archers loaded their weapons and prepared to move. There was a long, pregnant pause on the field as the two armies braced for combat. A piercing horn blast rang out, followed by the shouts of thousands of voices, and the Groln charged as one.

  Lirak smiled. Reaching up and out with his mind, he caressed the seething mass of power he had spent all day summoning. Energy flowed through his red robe and body, his skin glowing as it shed excess heat. Triggering the wand, he sent a blast of sorcery into the closest charging troop of Groln. Blood and gore showered the soldiers on each side. The wand danced. Another blast ripped through a crossbow formation. A third obliterated half of the remaining Groln cavalry. A cry of fear and horror rose up from the Groln, at the same moment a cheer of triumph came from directly below the hill.

  Lirak had just begun.

  Warlock: The War Chronicles II will be available June of 2015.