Kings of Ghumai- The Complete series Box Set

by D N Meinster

  Jient sunk to the ground and started pleading for his life. But Neanthal could not take his life from him. That would violate their arrangement. However, he could take something else.

  "It is no wonder everyone wants you dead," Neanthal grumbled. "So ungrateful. Did the Emperor ask you to do this? Or did you do it of your own accord?"

  "I want to rejoin my family," Jient whimpered.

  Neanthal's eyes widened as his smirk expanded. "You will never join them or any of your ancestors. Because I will never let you die."

  Neanthal reached down into Jient's head, his hand and arm disappearing inside the boy's body. When he pulled back, in his clutches was what appeared to be a white sheet. It was glistening and swaying about without any outside influence. On close inspection, a smoky composition similar to Neanthal's own could be made out.

  "Your soul," Neanthal said as Jient stared up at it. "It will never reach where it was meant to go."

  Black smoke swallowed up the white sheet until both dissolved, leaving no trace of either behind.

  Jient was still breathing, but there was no spark left within. His eyes had dulled and his skin no longer exuded the vibrancy of a living being.

  "Rise," Neanthal ordered, and Jient did as he was commanded. "Return to where I found you, and stay there."

  As Jient walked off, Neanthal switched his focus back to the hordes of men waiting for his attack. The Emperor believed he had a numbers advantage, which was true when it came to a human army. Yet Neanthal had brought with him the most powerful force that Ghumai would ever see. He simply hadn't considered calling upon them until now.

  Neanthal's chest suddenly became like a plume of smoke with solid arms and legs. It was wispy and bubbly, and almost solid black except for the heart shape floating in its midst. Within moments, there was a claw reaching out from it, grasping at the world Neanthal was summoning it to. A second claw appeared, and then the whole creature shot out from his chest and landed on its four legs. It was much like a miniature version of Neanthal's own beastlike appearance, though its tail was more of a stub and its snout was much broader and rounder. Its eyes were more orange, and its teeth could not match the fangs of its master. And starting from its forehead and going down half its face was a blood red symbol: a cracked heart with a pyramid sticking out from its top. It was a vicious thing, more solid than smoky and ready to pounce on Neanthal's own men if it didn't get sent off soon.

  Two more identical demibeasts followed the first out. As they circled each other, a different sort of limb emerged from Neanthal's chest. It was more human-like and appeared to be donning a black gauntlet. When fully emerged, its menacing armor was in full view. Ample spikes stretched from each shoulder blade, which were somehow more foreboding than the swords hanging nears its legs. There were no eyes to speak of, just a smooth black plate where its face should have been. It stood incredibly still as it awaited Neanthal's command, unlike the more restless pups that started clawing at its legs.

  Another fully plated figure emerged from that chasm in Neanthal's chest. And then another. Soon there were hundreds standing about, awaiting the battle. The humans Neanthal had recruited looked even more frightened of these things than of the Emperor's legions.

  A different sort of hand suddenly stuck out of Neanthal's chest. It was gray, yet more transparent than the smoky mass it came from.

  "Peransic!" Neanthal declared as it proceeded onto the Ghumaic landscape.

  Peransic was an emaciated fellow, all gray and not all there. He seemed to float on the ground rather than stand on it, and his sloppy ensemble of misplaced belts and torn coats was as see-through as the rest of him. An acrimonious expression was stuck on his face, just below the uneven tangles of his blue-gray hair.

  "How long has it been, my liege?" Peransic asked with a croak.

  "A millennia, I believe," Neanthal answered.

  "Where have we ended up?" he asked, not really looking at where they were.

  "Her physical realm. A land called Ghumai."

  "Ghumai," Peransic repeated. "Ghumai. Was this part of the plan?"

  "There's a new plan," Neanthal informed him. "It begins by conquering this world. You will lead my armies, as you did during the Early War. These humans are fragile beasts. They should go down without much trouble. It is only the mages we must concern ourselves with. She has given them a lesser copy of her own abilities."

  Peransic did not seem to care about any of what Neanthal was telling him. He took one step toward Neanthal so that they were face-to-face. "She will pay?" he asked.

  "Oh, yes, Peransic," Neanthal answered. "She will pay."

  Peransic straightened up and took a more concrete form. He bared his teeth at his master in a foul imitation of a smile. "What's first?"

  Neanthal simply pointed to the legion of Fauns staged in front of their capital.

  "Move out!" Peransic screamed at the vile minions Neanthal had summoned. They obeyed without question and headed toward the armies of Radite.

  Neanthal's recruits stayed put. Not one was intent to join Peransic's march. Neanthal considered killing them all but realized he hadn't given them any direct order yet. "This is your chance to take Faunli back from the bastards that stole it from you. Your weak emperor, who would surrender to a Kytheran. The King of Kytheras, who would make you all slaves. If you want Faunli to be great once more, march forward. If you want to be free once more, then march forward. If you want vengeance against those who have wronged you, then march forward!”

  There was a collective cheer, and the men took out their weapons and ran to catch up with Neanthal's minions.

  The Emperor's forces showed great courage as unknown creatures ran toward them. They stayed in their positions, lances at the ready, as the moving shadow came upon them. The first wave of demibeasts collided with the front row of Faun soldiers. Their growls turned to whines as they were impaled by the enemies' spears. They were stuck in their bellies when they tried to jump through the formation or stuck in their necks if they dared to attempt a bite. A black ooze seeped from their wounds as they lay dead or dying.

  Though the first wave was taken out with precision, they were followed by numbers that were too much for even the Emperor's adroit men. The demibeasts paired up for every one man at the front of the battalion, latching onto the armor with their teeth and mauling as best they could. Human limbs started flapping through the air, accompanied by piercing screams and a downpour of blood.

  When the demibeasts finally gained an advantage, their much slower paced brethren arrived. The Faun spears broke against the armor of these plated monsters. Before they even had a chance to withdraw their secondary weapons, the Faun soldiers were skewered by the swords of Neanthal's superior forces. These swords were jagged and rough, but sharp enough and given sufficient propulsion to render the Faun protective garments irrelevant. While the demibeasts had been proven mortal, not a single plated being was eliminated on the battlefield. When the Fauns tries slashing at them with their swords, they proved just as ineffective as their spears.

  Peransic took up arms at the side of his master's legions. With a sickle in one hand and a chain in the other, he choked and sliced his way through the front lines. The curved blade decapitated with ease, while the chain proved better at disarmament. Every kill fed his sick desires. More bodies at his feet only caused greater hunger. And when the Fauns tried to retaliate, they found their weapons useless as they passed right through his image.

  After two-thirds of their men went down, the Fauns recognized that they were losing this battle. A few whistles and shouts, and most of the men turned to flee and hide behind the walls of Radite.

  "Massku kon glat!"

  Neanthal could hear them even though he had stayed behind to observe. When his human recruits finally made it to the scene of combat, they merely finished off those his other forces had left to die on the field. The rest of his army, Massku as the Fauns had labeled it, lined up outside the wall, awaiting their master's instru
ction.

  In the blink of an eye, Neanthal had joined them outside the wall. With just a thought, the gate that barred their entry vanished, and his forces made their way into the city.

  Some of the Emperor's men attempted to take on the Massku, though they were easily dispatched to the Old Bastion. But as Neanthal walked by them, they fell to their knees and begged for mercy. He welcomed their pleas, and his army left those that surrendered intact. As long as they pledged themselves to him, they would be allowed to live.

  Little blood was spilled as all of Radite bowed before the presence of their new emperor. Their golden structures were left unmarred as Neanthal made his way to the palace at the far end of the city.

  He climbed every stair like a human would, and entered the palace like any subject of the Emperor. No one tried to stop him, not even the Emperor's men as he came within feet of the throne.

  "Have you heard?" Neanthal asked the man that sat on the royal chair. "Faunli has a new emperor."

  "You are mistaken," the Emperor replied. He was dressed in the finest linens, covering his elderly frame. "The Phodos dynasty has ruled Faunli since the beginning. That is not about to change because of some power-seeking warlord. Take this throne if you must, but my family has the only true claim to it."

  Neanthal departed the floor and hovered into the air. He glided over to within arm's reach of the Emperor. "The people of Faunli will welcome a new dynasty. And all of Ghumai will kneel before their new god." He reached out and wrapped his hands around the Emperor's neck. The imperial soldiers only watched as their leader turned blue in the face, gasping for the air he would never receive.

  Neanthal tossed the body from the throne and gently drifted down into a sitting position. He allowed himself just a moment to relish his victory. This was only one battle. The true war had yet to be fought.

  Chapter Seven

  More Than A Memory

  300 Years After the Parting (300 A.P.)

  Aros could not bring himself to talk with his friends. They took the lead as they went to find their way back toward Fair Forest, while Aros hung several paces back. Every so often they would glance toward him, and he would ignore their gaze. He was ashamed of what he had done. Losing Leidess did not give him a reasonable excuse to attack his friends. He had lost control, given in to every horrible feeling that had consumed him since her death. And he had gone after the only two people that had given him a reason to get out of bed. They should shun him, or punish him. But there they were, checking on him every minute.

  Rikki and Doren deserved a companion that had their backs at all times; one that wouldn't randomly try to stab them. Aros couldn't pretend to be the one they needed any longer. He was becoming unhinged, and though he had his emotions under control at this moment, who was to say it would last? What if he hadn't gotten the rage under control? What if it returned? There was little reason to stay with them.

  In spite of his feelings, he kept going. It would be worse to abandon them based on his own impulses. Somehow, it would make him feel even more guilty. He wished they would order him to leave. They had plenty of cause.

  Aros sighed as he dragged his feet along. Where was the disembodied voice when he needed it? He needed someone to tell him what to do. He could no longer trust himself.

  Doren and Rikki took a break, giving Aros time to catch up with them. Rikki looked to the cloud-covered sky, and then to the map Doren was holding.

  "I have no idea where we are," Rikki stated.

  "I wonder how old this thing is," Doren said, turning it around in his hands. "Neanthal's Hamlet isn't even on here."

  "At least three hundred years, I'd guess," Rikki replied. She held up her staff to the sky. "If I can get a better look at the sun..." A flock of diminutive lights flew out of the channeling crystal and headed into the clouds. Sunlight beamed through a newly formed opening amongst the veil, but only a for a moment. Seconds later, rain poured from above and the sun was once again lost. "Oops."

  Rikki hastily formed a shelter out of dirt and grass, and took cover under it with Doren. Aros refused to join them, keeping his head down as the rainfall soaked him.

  "Aros!" Rikki shouted, but he ignored her.

  Doren left her side, putting his shield over his head for protection, and ran over to Aros. He held the shield over his friend and tugged him back toward Rikki.

  All three of them huddled under the cavity in silence. When Rikki went to touch her staff to Aros to dry him off, Aros pushed it away.

  "You'll get sick," Rikki warned, but Aros refused her help. "We forgave you, Aros. We understand."

  But Aros only shook his head and avoided looking at her.

  Doren placed a hand on Rikki's arm. "First time trying to manipulate the sky?"

  Rikki's eyes darted from Aros to Doren. "Yes," she said meekly. "Hatswick never taught me."

  "So you're gonna let it keep raining?" Doren asked.

  "Would you prefer snow?"

  "Come on, Rikki."

  "I don't want to make this worse," she said, eyes now focused on her staff.

  "Do it," Aros mumbled without looking at her.

  "You two are just so encouraging." Rikki stepped out from her self-made canopy and into the downpour she had inadvertently started. Holding onto the staff with both hands, she moved it high above her head and willed the rain to stop. The channeling crystal turned a soft shade of green before launching a beam of light into the heavens.

  Rikki was already drenched, but she could tell the precipitation was letting up. She brought the staff back down to her side and did an about-face. While she smiled at her friends, pleased that she had accomplished her task, she felt a stinging pain at the top of her head. Gazing up in response, two teeny pieces of ice pelted her in the face. Beyond them, she could see a wave of ice falling from the clouds.

  "This isn't working," she said before sprinting back for cover.

  Once again at Aros and Doren's side, she expanded the canopy she had created earlier to transform into a misshapen hut. "Let's just stay here," she suggested.

  But the hail grew heavier and struck harder while they waited. Cracks began to form in the muddy ceiling that protected them.

  "Rikki," Doren said, alerting her to the failing integrity of their shelter.

  "The sky won't obey me," she replied.

  "We need this to pass," Doren whined.

  "Pass," Rikki repeated. "Right." She ran back out into the harsh storm she had caused, her staff turning any ice that dared target her back to liquid. With one arm, she lifted her staff into the air and compelled the winds to blow the squall to another part of Faunli.

  Whether it was good timing or skilled magic, the clouds in the area broke away, revealing the emerging stars and moons they had been hiding. A relieved Rikki returned to the hut and slid back against one of the walls. "I'm never gonna try changing the weather again."

  Doren slid down right next to her. "You've just gotta practice."

  Aros stared down at his two friends as they huddled together. Neither would probably mind if he joined in, but he wasn't ready to be close to them. Instead, he stepped outside and took refuge against the outer wall of the hut. With his back leaning against the wall, he stared up into the profusion of blinking lights above.

  "Aros isn't himself," he could hear Doren say in an intentionally loud voice.

  Rikki replied in a whisper, so low that Aros had to press his ear against the dirt to be able to hear. "You didn't help things."

  "I didn't think he'd respond by...well, you know."

  "I've noticed it since we got here," Rikki whispered. "We didn't give him enough time to mourn. He's not the same as he was. Not yet. Who knows if he'll ever be."

  "Maybe he shouldn't be here," Doren suggested, somehow even louder. "We'll take him back. Magenine isn't speaking to him anymore. Perhaps She realizes he can't go on."

  "I don't know why the Goddess isn't – "

  Aros put his hands over his ears. He didn't want to he
ar any more. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping. He knew what he was like now; he didn't need to listen to someone else explain it, least of all his friends. They may have forgiven him, but they may never feel relaxed around him again. It was his own fault. Why did he lash out at them?

  He couldn't stay here. He was a danger to his friends. Aros wrapped his hand around the Key. He'd take this one back to Kytheras and protect it with his life. Rikki and Doren could find and protect the other ones. They were more than capable of that.

  Aros cautiously stood up, trying not to make a peep. He didn't want them to hear him leaving. They may try to stop him, even though it wouldn't be in their best interest to do so.

  He estimated where they had come from and put one foot forward. His sandal sunk down into the mud and ice. Trying his best to minimize the sloshing sound, he took another step. One glance back and he knew his friends hadn't noticed.

  Aros gently moved forward until he was positive his footsteps were out of earshot; then he shot ahead, as brisk as he could move along the terrain. He had to make it as far away from his friends as he could before they would detect his absence. He didn't want to give them a chance to catch up. Kytheras was at least two days away. If he could make it back there without being disrupted, they would never ask him to rejoin them on this quest. He could go back to his bed; go back to ignoring the world and dreaming about Leidess.

  A familiar giggle brought Aros to an abrupt halt. He listened carefully, trying to determine its origin, but didn't hear it again. After a few seconds of silence, he figured he must have been imagining it.

  He meant to continue on, but he heard that laugh again. It was nearby, but his surroundings were hard enough to see without a lantern to guide him. All he could rely on was moonlight, and that only told him when there was an obstruction in his path, and when there wasn't.

  After hearing it again, Aros darted sideways, certain it was coming from that direction. He was impeded by a dark object standing in his path. He reached out to touch it and felt the rough bark of a tree.