Kings of Ghumai- The Complete series Box Set

by D N Meinster

  Neanthal was on top of the men before they even began shouting. He flung half of them away with a swing of his front arm. The others charged at him with their swords drawn. Was this truly their best weapon? Their metal blades passed through him like he wasn't even there.

  "What are you?" one of them screamed. He picked this one up and tossed him into his mouth. His teeth could not so easily break the armor of these fighters, so he swallowed him whole. It was just as effective.

  The rest of the company continued swinging away at him. He let his body solidify so he could take the hits they so wanted to land. He didn't even feel the blades as they made contact. They sliced through him but left no lasting damage. Their weapons were useless. Neanthal was especially pleased by this revelation.

  With a flick of his finger, he sent the remaining attackers into the air and watched them plummet back to the ground. The ones that lived struggled to move their crumpled bodies, and ultimately failed. These Fauns were supposed to be fierce, yet they were as easily defeated as the Streamers.

  There was a slight prick on Neanthal's side. He bent his head toward the irritation and saw arrow after arrow slamming into him. They shattered upon contact, but still caused more harm than swords.

  Neanthal spotted the archer on the horizon. He was courageous for not running, since there was but one way this could end for him. Neanthal eased back and spat out a plume of black smoke that raced across the land until it reached its target. As it consumed the archer, his body began to melt away until there was nothing left.

  There were no further attempts at violence. The surviving Fauns now waited for him to bring about their imminent passing.

  Neanthal turned his attention to the man hiding within the shack. It was evident he would not be coming out. If Neanthal wanted to learn why this man was important enough to send an army after him, he would have to go inside. And that was not possible in his current form.

  He could try to tear down the walls, or else make them vanish entirely, but that risked the life of the human inside. No, if he wanted to interrogate him, he was going to have to shrink.

  Neanthal figured he would have to look like them at some point. But his size and shape right now provided a distinct advantage. Changing it might make him vulnerable.

  He encircled the cabin, making it look like it was being devoured by a black cloud. Was it really the time to do this?

  Neanthal closed his eyes, concentrating on the form he needed to take. His body, as he'd always known it, lost its cohesion as it swirled around itself. He no longer had arms, nor legs. His head was lost amongst the blackness. He was shapeless; a black mist that succeeded a gale.

  All at once, the black cloud collapsed into a single point on the landscape. There was no longer a storm, but a shadow; a freestanding blob that rapidly took the shape of a man.

  Neanthal's eyes were all that remained of his previous constitution. They still glowed orange-yellow. But the rest of him now matched the species that dominated Ghumai. The cabin that he could have squashed with one paw was now taller than he was. His limbs could only reach out a few feet from his body, and his fingers weren't even sharp enough to scratch wood. His torso was adorned with what appeared to be a black leather coat, which draped mere inches from the ground. The garments beneath were black as well, though a silver heart-shaped symbol was brandished on his chest. There was no hair atop his head, only in the back, where a woven ponytail reached so far down, it clung to his ankles. His nose was much shorter than his snout, and his lips were surrounded by black hairs shaped into an upside-down triangle. The visage was complete.

  Neanthal could not take his eyes off his hands. They were so tiny. Where they had projected power just moments ago, now they were fragile instruments. Is that why Magenine had made humans like this? So they couldn't intimidate Her?

  He took one step forward; then another. Was his stride shorter because he was so much lower than he had been? Or were two legs merely insufficient for travel?

  As he neared the door to the cabin, he reached out. Would his hand pass right through it? No. His palm rested on the coarse surface. He made to push it open but accidently tore it from its frame. It went flying through the shack and cracked against the far wall.

  "Would you look at that?" Neanthal said to himself in a deep, crackling voice. Despite his minuscule size, he retained his former strength. He probably could have drifted straight through the door if he had tried.

  His foot stepped down inside, not making a sound as it touched the grimy floorboards. The man inside tried to stay as still and silent as possible, but his slight breaths gave him away. Neanthal pointed his finger at a closet in the back, and the door that hid its occupant turned to dust. "Nifty."

  A young man with piercing gold eyes was cowering in the back corner of the shack. He stared at Neanthal, only shivering while he approached.

  "You're right to fear me," Neanthal said as he stood in the doorway. "But unlike the men I killed, I do not want you dead. I only ask to know why they were here."

  There was no response from the cowardly Faun. Did he understand him? Neanthal was sure his words came out in the right language. Still, he'd try again.

  "Why were those men here?" Neanthal brought his face within inches of the Faun.

  "I betrayed the Emperor."

  Neanthal grinned. "Did you?" He stood back up. "What do they call you?"

  "I am Jient," he answered, though he refused to move from his position.

  "What did you do to your – " Neanthal paused. "Uncle. So you're related to him?" This was serendipitous.

  "I am ashamed."

  "Hush. Tell me what you did."

  Jient tugged at his brown hair. "I swore to the Emperor I'd kill King Aergo. I swore to provide him the vengeance we have sought for decades. But I couldn't do it. Instead, I told Aergo what I had planned to do. And he let me live. He let me come back."

  King? Neanthal closed his eyes and saw more images flash before them. Yes, he understood now. The Fauns were subservient to the King of Kytheras. Even their emperor had to answer to him. There was only one true ruler of Ghumai. Perfect.

  "Do you value your life?" Neanthal asked the coward.

  "Yes," Jient answered meekly.

  "Then I will let you keep it, in exchange for your services."

  "I won't kill," Jient stated.

  Neanthal laughed his very first laugh. "I don't need you to kill, foolish boy. I can handle that well on my own. No, I need your blood. You see, if I am to rally the Fauns behind me, I need one of their own at my side. And not just any one, but a descendant of the ruling dynasty. The Phodos dynasty."

  "What do you need to rally my people for?"

  "To overthrow the Emperor, of course."

  Three decks in and they hadn't even gathered a thousand men. The Fauns were intensely loyal to their emperor, even if he had been the one to sign their freedom away to some Kytheran King. Neanthal would promise them independence, revenge, and the like, and still only a few would join each day. Why were they so obstinate? He showed them his power, and they would walk away like it was some parlor trick. Did they not understand that with just a thought he could alter their reality? Even when he presented them with a relative of their beloved ruler, they hissed at him.

  He hated them all. Fauns. Humans. He wished for some alternative. Why couldn't there have been options? Instead, he was stuck with the weak Ghumaic population.

  "My Lord Neanthal," Jient approached him, shivering in fear. The lad was wrapped in the finest scarlet robes and made up to resemble a warrior from high society. But the facade was useless if he didn't act as he was supposed to. And he rarely did. No doubt their poor recruitment was partially Jient's responsibility.

  "What is it now?" Neanthal grumbled, disappointed from his latest count.

  "We are only a day's march from Radite," Jient informed him. "And we do not have enough men to take the city."

  "I know this," Neanthal replied.

  "We should
turn back. Or perhaps change our mission. If we were to attack Kytheras instead, we could no doubt recruit thousands of my people."

  "So you'd betray your family and those to which you owe a debt." Neanthal so wanted to stomp the life out of this Faun.

  "I only mean that to conquer Kytheras would be to conquer Faunli in a way," Jient said. "And you would have a mighty army at your back."

  "I know how I'm going to conquer Ghumai. I do not require advice from you."

  Jient bowed. "I apologize, my Lord. I only mean to – "

  "I no longer want to hear your voice. Go tell the men to prepare for battle. We go to war tomorrow."

  Jient scurried off, and Neanthal sighed. Radite would fall shortly. He simply wished to have the loyalty of those he would soon dominate.

  Neanthal climbed up a nearby hill. Crossing his arms, he stared out at the land that would be his. The capital was a speck in the distance.

  He frowned as the wind touched his face. She knew what he was planning. She put up these obstacles. She did not want him to succeed. She –

  Neanthal tensed up. She was right behind him. He swung around. "Magenine!"

  "Maajuhneen?" It wasn't her. Not exactly. A man with a bald head and clutching a bulbous violet staff gazed back at him.

  Neanthal bent his head to the side, perplexed by this being. He could feel Magenine, right there where he was standing. Yet this obviously wasn't Her. It was different somehow; like two souls were stuffed into one body. But as this human's eyes pierced him, he could feel Her watching him as well.

  "What are you?" Neanthal barked at the man.

  "I am Quentin," he answered. "And what exactly are you?"

  "Quentin is your name," Neanthal responded. "I want to know what you are. You're not like them." He pointed back toward the encampment of recruits.

  "You're not like them either," Quentin replied, his purple eyes scrutinizing Neanthal.

  "Are you just going to repeat me? We'll get nowhere with that." Neanthal crunched his fingers together. If this human-like creature didn't provide his answers willingly, he was going to suffer.

  "I am a mage," Quentin said with the slightest of bows. "A magic-wielder. One of the gifted of Ghumai."

  "Magic?" Neanthal stated. His eyes widened in concern. This realm was better defended than he had realized. She put creatures here with abilities that mimicked Her own. Had She foreseen what he was planning? "How long have mages existed in this world?"

  "Centuries, I think," Quentin told him. "Now, what are you?"

  Centuries? How long was he in that Pit? Neanthal turned his back on the mage. "The Goddess." He spun back around. "Has She told you where to find me?"

  "Goddess?"

  Neanthal couldn't keep the grin from his face. They don't know. The Goddess implanted herself in these mages, yet they didn't know She was there. Was it the work of Her hubris or Her magnanimity? Either way, if She was unknown to them, She was too far buried within to be a threat. At least, that's what he assumed. Best to test this theory.

  "There's no need to speak about Her. I haven't even answered your question. I am your future master."

  Quentin was staring at Neanthal when his fist slammed into his face. The mage crumpled so fast his staff was still standing when he hit the ground.

  "Did you feel that Magenine?" Neanthal asked. "Or do you let these pathetic creatures feel it for you?"

  There was a bright flash and Neanthal was pushed back ten feet. Quentin rose up from the ground, his staff pointing at his opponent.

  "Okay, future master. If you want to fight, I will oblige."

  "Don't threaten me." Neanthal placed his palms together and focused on the staff. When he separated his hands, Quentin's weapon fell to pieces. "Especially when you have no weapon."

  "Don't I?" The staff reassembled moments later, as if Neanthal hadn't damaged it at all.

  These mages were more powerful than predicted. "Damn you, Magenine!" Black fire ignited on Neanthal's arms and hands. In an instant, he was back in Quentin's face. Neanthal reached out for him, but his body faded away before he could touch him.

  He didn't bother searching for the mage after he disappeared. Quentin was gone, and Neanthal was left standing about like some ignoramus. This mage had blindsided him. There were beings here who could challenge him; who could even survive when he intended their demise.

  But perhaps this could play to his advantage. They had no knowledge of the Goddess, which meant they had no loyalty to Her. If they could be persuaded, they would become invaluable allies. He would use Her own weapons against Her. Yes, with their magic and his own abilities, this entire task could become all the easier.

  Neanthal's sights once again fell on Radite. First, he had to get through tomorrow.

  Neanthal did not require sleep. He watched as the sun set and the stars and moons took over the sky. The nights of Ghumai truly were gorgeous, but for the irritating sounds of the nearby humans. With a wave of his hand, their snores and mumbles dissipated. He could kill them all just as easily, but he needed them. This was the situation She had left him in.

  Why had She buried his prison beneath this land? How many other worlds were out there that could have served Her needs just as well? She could have stuffed him in the core of some uninhabited planet. Or even placed The Pit in the center of a star. But She had chosen this place. Why Ghumai? There were numerous answers, of course, but none necessarily accurate. He would have to confront Her directly for the truth.

  Night passed swiftly, as it was merely the blink of an eye for an immortal. As the first rays of dawn shone upon the land, Neanthal returned the sounds to his battalion and woke them all with a whistle that mimicked the high note of a horn. They were an unseemly bunch, most poorly trained and likely to die when faced with the imperial legions of Faunli. They fought over the armor that was in short supply and struggled to put it on when they had won it. Yet these buffoons would still be able to pull off a victory because they had a god in their midst.

  What did the Emperor have? Men. Not even mages. He almost felt bad for the fool on Faunli's throne.

  "Lord Neanthal!" Jient hurried to his master's side.

  Neanthal groaned. Of all the imperial relatives he could have run into, it had to be Jient. He couldn't even kill him after today, since he had promised him his life.

  "Our scouts have not returned from their mission," Jient said.

  "Scouts?" Neanthal grabbed Jient's throat. "What scouts?"

  Jient gargled and gagged as he tried to answer the question.

  "You sent men ahead on your own directive?" He lifted Jient off the ground and the boy flopped about in his grip. "You've just warned the Emperor that we're coming. Do you know what we'll face now?" With a glance toward Radite, Neanthal could see a tenfold increase in the number of soldiers outside the wall. "Did you intend for these men to be massacred?"

  Jient's face turned a harsh shade of purple and he was barely sputtering anymore.

  Neanthal opened his hand and the let the wretch fall to the earth. "You fail to grasp what I am. I do not need scouts. I can see ahead without any assistance from your kind."

  "Apologies, my lord." Jient stammered as he gasped for air.

  Undoubtedly, the Emperor had heard of Neanthal's recent efforts, but such information did not reveal what Jient had just given away. He knew they were coming for him at Radite. And he was prepared. Neanthal wanted to keep as many of his men alive as possible. That had become an even more arduous feat.

  "Get the men lined up and prepare to march," Neanthal ordered.

  When Jient refused to move, Neanthal, by only pulling at the air, forced him into a standing position. Though still dazed, Jient was visibly terrified by the unintended movement of his body.

  Neanthal moved his face so close to Jient's that his beard scraped against the boy's chin. "Get them into position," he snarled with intended menace.

  Jient stumbled away and started shouting at the men with a hoarse voice.

&
nbsp; The sun had almost completed rising when his army was finally ready. Their weapons were already drawn as they stood in their rows and waited to move on the capital. Neanthal looked them over, almost pitying them, and then pointed toward Radite. He took one step forward, and his men began marching behind him.

  Jient eventually made his way back to Neanthal's side, and the two of them led the uneven lines of men toward an almost certain doom. There weren't enough of them to shake the earth as they went, let alone frighten the imperial contingent. They were noisy, though, as their armor clanged against each other, and they occasionally stumbled. Neanthal was relieved there wasn't sobbing.

  When the red walls of Radite came into view, so did the soldiers that guarded the city. The men stopped marching on their own accord. There were at least ten thousand of the Emperor's best prepared to defend their ruler. They wore matching metallic plates of gold and scarlet, and they all had spears in their hands and swords on their waists. Their heads were completely covered by metal helmets; their only vulnerability a slit at their eyes made so they could see. These were professionals. His own company had armor of all colors and only half had protection on their heads. They were ill-prepared to fight these overwhelming numbers. It was no wonder they had stopped.

  Neanthal considered every option. He could transform and take out most of them on his own. But he might unintentionally damage his men. He could try turning them all to dust, but how many could he do at once? If they had too much time to spare, his army could still be destroyed. They could retreat and come back another day, one when they would not expect him. But they would still face numbers beyond what Neanthal could raise.

  Jient squirmed at his side as he pondered. "We should go back," he whined.

  As Neanthal finally thought up a solution, he noticed the dagger in Jient's hand. Before he could stop him, Jient plunged it into Neanthal's side.

  The dagger stuck in and stayed there as Jient scampered away.

  "Traitor!" Neanthal roared, his voice reaching all parts of Faunli. His body became a black mist and the dagger tumbled to the dirt. With just a thought, Neanthal was in front of Jient, blocking his path. "Worthless slave." The mist instantaneously disappeared and Neanthal was once again in his human form.