Kings of Ghumai- The Complete series Box Set

by D N Meinster

  The archers were relentless, but their attacks were futile. No matter how many arrows they launched, none made contact with her skin. With a wave, Amelia broke their bows as they held them. With a spin, she cleared the entire roof of any other person beside herself.

  From atop the castle, she could see their second wave coming. Hatswick, Rantiford, and the entire league of Guardians had made it across the ice and were marching through the streets of Kytheras. As she watched, she saw something even more heartening. Kytherans were stepping out of their homes and joining the Guardians on their way to Castle Tornis.

  “This is it.”

  Amelia would’ve joined if she was needed, but she only needed to watch. Though Neanthal’s demibeasts and plated had successfully stalled the soldiers outside Treatis Square, the Guardians’ arrival quickly overwhelmed them. They hacked and slashed their way forward, cutting through the blockade with speed and precision.

  As she gazed out upon their continued success, Amelia sensed she was no longer alone atop the castle. She glanced right and spotted Neanthal, staring out at the battle as well.

  Amelia readied for combat, but the Beast did not do the same.

  “I underestimated your skill,” he spoke in his gravelly voice. “I thought they would be enough.” He spread his hands out toward his own forces.

  “So do you surrender?” Amelia asked.

  Neanthal chuckled. “This is only round one, my dear. Take the castle, if you’d like. Enjoy your hollow victory. Magenine, too, thought it was all over when she won the Early War and locked me away in the Pit. I’m going to show her how wrong she was.”

  “Why do you hate Magenine?” Amelia said.

  “Hate Her?” Neanthal’s fiery eyes finally found her. “I love Her. I’m not supposed to. That’s not why I was born. But I do. I love Her. How though, could She love me? A creation of darkness; of Her enemy. Her desire to destroy me is intoxicating. Her power is unrivaled. All that I’ve ever wanted is within Her.”

  Amelia’s mouth sagged open as she took in what Neanthal was saying. It didn’t simply surprise her. It didn’t make sense. “Why would you conquer Ghumai? Why attack the Bastion again?”

  “She does not love me. She cannot. Not yet. But when I defeat Her, when I rule Her precious Bastion, She will know that She is not better than me. And when I spare Her, She will see that I am not a pawn. I am worthy of Her love.”

  Amelia tried to comprehend Neanthal’s drive but was so taken aback that she merely stared blankly at him.

  “I can see Her watching through your eyes,” Neanthal said. “So afraid to break the rules. I wanted you to come try and stop me, Magenine. But I’ll see you soon enough. I’ve gotten what I needed in Ghumai. You’re next.”

  Amelia swung her staff toward him, but Neanthal backed out of range.

  “Nevertheless, Amelia. I’ll deal with you all before I go.” Neanthal disappeared in a blink, and, down on the battlefield, so did all his forces.

  The confounded soldiers looked around aimlessly as the way forward opened up. She could make out Hatswick staring up at her. Did he think she’d defeated Neanthal? Is that what they’d all think?

  She’d have to dismiss them of the notion immediately. He was going to come back. The strange, lovesick Beast was going to take them on before he returned to the one he allegedly loved.

  Was it true? Could Neanthal love Magenine? And did She spurn his feelings?

  As she let the green glow on her body fade, she could sense there was more to the story. But there was no time to ponder what it could be. Amelia shifted back to the battlefield, intending to put an end to any premature celebrations.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  M’dalla’s Mission

  The explanations didn’t quell M’dalla’s pain. Her boyfriend was dead. Aergo’s son, the man she loved, had been struck down. They’d survived so much. They’d outlived every single person that they knew. To have him taken from her just as they were able to live again was more than tragic; it was unfair.

  She heard her companions go on about the loss of Loraya’s brothers and the rest of the Revolutionaries, but she didn’t care. They’d all failed Slythe. If they’d been more capable warriors, he’d be alive. If the Roamers hadn’t gotten involved in affairs that had no relevance to their mission, he’d be alive.

  M’dalla glared at Aros. He and his goddess had gotten in the Roamers’ way. They were the ones that were supposed to gather the Keys, not him. The Keys should be up the sleeves of their coats, not hanging from an outmatched boy’s belt.

  Why did she help him? Why did she befriend him? He was their enemy. She should’ve taken what was rightfully theirs in Belliore. Instead, she did for him what he couldn’t do for Slythe.

  She wanted to rip them from his waist, but she couldn’t. There was something about Aros that overwhelmed her more violent instincts. She was only able to shoot nasty looks at him.

  “Where’s his body?” she finally asked.

  “Buried next to his father,” Azzer answered.

  “Already?”

  “Did you want to cuddle with his corpse?” Azzer tartly replied.

  M’dalla scowled at him before flashing her irritated look at all the survivors. There was barely a handful of them, yet she would’ve felt better if they’d all sacrificed themselves rather than letting Slythe put himself on the line for them.

  She couldn’t be around them any longer. If she lingered, she would’ve undoubtedly picked a fight with at least one of them. They didn’t deserve that.

  There was, however, someone that did deserve it; someone that was more responsible for Slythe’s death than this pathetic band.

  M’dalla clenched her fist around her flail. “Kahar.”

  She could take out the man most responsible for Slythe’s death and show up the Revolutionaries in a single act.

  “Don’t wait for me.”

  Before any of them could protest, M’dalla spun and shifted to the Enduring Mountains.

  Familiar rock walls encompassed her as she returned to the place of the Roamers’ awakening. This had been there home, even as they left to search for the Keys. They always returned here.

  It was empty now, with no sound but the reverberation of her footsteps as she headed away from the little sunlight that leaked in. She huddled against a far wall in the darkest area of the cave. As she slid to the ground, she imagined all of the Roamers there with her.

  Yuurei, with his sword always at the ready.

  Zeniri, with his stone hands.

  Azzer, trying to pick which of their male companions to flirt with.

  And Slythe, his gaze on her.

  M’dalla let herself cry for the first time since she’d become a Roamer. Her wails echoed through the cave as snot and tears descended her face.

  Why did Amelia have to choose them? Why couldn’t she let them live out their natural lives in a better era?

  There was so much to celebrate before they’d left. Neanthal had been defeated and imprisoned. King Shine retook his father’s throne. Hatswick was still on their side. They’d left that world behind only to awaken in this broken one.

  Of course Amelia’s heir would be a part of it, along with the Goddess.

  M’dalla wiped her face on the sleeve of her cloak until it’d sopped up all the excess fluids. She was done grieving. It was time for vengeance.

  When the last light of the evening faded and the cave was taken over by darkness, she finally stood back up and readied her flail.

  She was going to kill the last Hunter and whichever of Kahar’s loyalists got in her way. And then she would take out the King.

  With a spin, she was gone from the cave and transported to a better lit place with shaved rock walls adorned by torches.

  M’dalla had never been inside Valiant Keep. Slythe had always instructed them to avoid it, even though its ruler was hunting them. Kahar was only a distraction from their mission. They didn’t need to engage him when they could evade him with
ease.

  Now, he was the mission.

  But where was he, exactly? How expansive was Valiant Keep?

  M’dalla strolled down the corridor until she accidentally ran into a watcher. She slammed her flail into his head while he still had a look of surprise in his eyes.

  “Oops.” She should’ve kept him alive so she had someone to interrogate. She bent down and searched his body, hoping for a map, but he had no objects of value in his possession.

  This could be a long night.

  As M’dalla proceeded down the corridor, she found it to be completely deserted. Had they only one watcher for the entire area?

  The rooms she poked her head into were devoid of life. There were stores of prop powder in one, and a cache of swords in another, but there was not a soul guarding them.

  She resorted to shouting “Kahar!” at one point, but no one came running.

  When she came upon another empty room, she slammed her flail into the rock walls, creating a couple cracks and sending a bit of dust into the air. After a deep breath, she spun and shifted to another part of the keep.

  She was startled by the room she ended up in.

  Mounds of channeling crystals were piled against one of the walls. The translucent rocks were stacked up to the ceiling. The crystals were mined in the mountains, and she figured these must’ve been what they found as they carved out the keep.

  Another wall supported mounds of other precious stones, including unrefined gold and silver. But it was the objects against the far wall that most perplexed her, and she stepped closer just to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating their presence.

  Familiar swords and shields adorned with the symbol of the Five Kingdoms had been left in a heap. She plucked out a disc that matched the one that Prince Doren carried with him. These were the weapons Amelia had enchanted before the invasion. Despite their age, most were in a nearly pristine condition.

  M’dalla tossed the shield away but stuck a sword down her sleeve, figuring she might have need of it in the future.

  Along with the unbreakable weapons, there were also loose gems strewn about the floor. Had they taken all the old Ghumaic objects and left them here?

  M’dalla was amazed that this room was unprotected as well. Did they not value what they’d thrown in here? Did they consider it junk?

  She shook her head before spinning and shifting away.

  When she realized where she was, she jumped back and collided into metal bars. A sharp talon reached out for her, but she smacked it away with her flail.

  M’dalla shifted to an adjacent location, outside the cage she’d ended up in.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Locked behind the bars was a bird as large as a horse, with dull red feathers and an aged yellow beak.

  It squawked at her as she examined it, and tried to sink its claws into her again, though this time the cage was in the way.

  “Who are you?” a watcher called out as he entered the room.

  “Is this the last post bird?” M’dalla asked. Kahar must’ve valued it, as he actually kept it guarded.

  “Drop your weapon!” the watcher replied.

  “I’ll keep you alive,” M’dalla said before she charged at him.

  The watcher tried to stab at her with a spear, but she easily deflected it and knocked her flail into his legs. He went down and inadvertently impaled himself on his own weapon.

  “Where’s the Hunter?” she cried out, but the watcher was already dead.

  M’dalla beat his lifeless body with her flail as the post bird watched. “Sorry about the mess,” she told it before shifting away.

  She couldn’t tell where she ended up, as it was as dark as the cave she’d left. For a moment, she thought she might’ve actually shifted back there, but then she heard someone else breathing.

  Her body tensed up, and she worried that she’d underestimated the Hunter. But then she heard a snore. Whoever else was there was sleeping.

  M’dalla tried to sort out where the sleeper was, but it was too dark and the snores bounced off the walls, concealing their location. She quickly ran out of patience and rammed her flail into the rock. A few sparks lit up the room and she saw Donic curled up on a pile of leaves.

  The snores ceased though, and she assumed she’d woken him up. Her suspicions were validated when a torch came to life in the room.

  Donic was shirtless and hairless, making the wounds on his torso all the more noticeable. He carried a torch in one hand and had a katar in the other. His eyes filled with recognition as he stared at M’dalla.

  “I guess you get to be conscious for your death,” she growled before swinging her flail toward him.

  Donic leaned back and avoided the hit. His arms trembled as he considered his options and glanced at the exit.

  M’dalla moved in but Donic swung the torch forward. The fires made contact with her cloak but didn’t leave a mark.

  “It’s enchanted,” she reminded him before taking a leap forward.

  Donic stuck his katar out and it grazed her cloak, but, just like the flames, it didn’t leave a mark.

  M’dalla bashed his arm and the katar fell from his hand. She subsequently ripped the torch from his grasp and held it up to his face.

  “I was burned recently, so I know this going to hurt.” She shoved the flames into Donic’s cheek and his high-pitched scream stung her ears as his flesh melted away.

  The fires grew as she held them at his face, and his head was swiftly consumed by them. M’dalla watched him pass out as he was transformed into a corpse with a flaming head.

  She tossed the torch away and, with a single swing of her flail, removed what was left of his head.

  Her rage only worsened as she stood over Donic’s body. She should’ve been more patient. She wanted him to suffer more.

  She’d be slower with Kahar.

  M’dalla left Donic’s quarters and entered another corridor. She figured Kahar would be nearby. He’d be one to keep his pet Hunters close in case he needed them.

  Her shadow flickered next to her as she crept down the hall, searching for any sign that the King was near. While she didn’t hear any signs of life, she saw a set of majestic wooden doors at the center of an adjacent corridor.

  This is exactly what she’d expected to find. She pushed and pulled on the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. Though she didn’t have a key, she had another way to open them up.

  M’dalla raised her flail up and swung it into the polished wood. It took multiple swings before she broke through. But she didn’t stop even after she’d forced one of the doors open. She continued to demolish them with her flail, sending wooden shrapnel everywhere until there was little left of them but their hinges.

  She caught her breath and stepped through, finding the back of Kahar’s throne only feet away. If he was sitting there, she’d just given him fair warning that she was coming.

  M’dalla lurked closer to the throne, only to find it empty. Kahar wasn’t here. She lifted her flail and prepared to do the stone seat what she’d done to the doors.

  “I could let you,” a voice said from the other side of the chamber. “But I really prefer you didn’t.”

  M’dalla spun around and saw him standing there, holding leashes in his misshapen hands that led to the necks of six sickly mages. From a distance, it was only the gold and magenta hair atop his head that stood out. But as she got closer, she could tell how he was merely a jumble of body parts. Nothing matched; not his eyes nor his arms. His nose didn’t fit his face, and neither did his lips. Half of his hair matched Rikki’s, and one of his arms reminded her of Slythe. As she scrutinized him, she wondered why he would do that to himself.

  “Perfect, aren’t I?” Kahar said, noticing her unblinking stare.

  “It looks like it’ll only take one hit for you to fall apart,” M’dalla replied, twirling her flail and readying to strike. He wasn’t even wearing armor, but instead what looked to be a collection of belts.

  “You won’t get clos
e,” Kahar warned her. “I’d suggest you leave, but I find your cloak rather enchanting. I want it.”

  M’dalla laughed. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  “My dear, I know exactly who I’m dealing with. That’s why I brought them.” He shook the chains he carried.

  “I’m not afraid of your puppets,” M’dalla lied. She knew the mages gave him the upper hand. Her only chance was if her flail could hit him faster than he could order his mages to stop it.

  “Then come along,” he said, beckoning her to get closer.

  M’dalla dropped the sword from her sleeve and flung it at the King. As it soared at him, she charged after it, readying her flail for a strike.

  A massive hand made of rock shot out from the wall and grabbed hold of her entire body. She was caught in its grip, the stone fingers binding her like the chains bound Kahar’s mages.

  First, she saw that her sword had been frozen in midair. Then she looked to the arm that the rock hand was attached to. It led to a human-shaped giant composed of the same rock that made up the walls of Valiant Keep.

  “My golem,” Kahar stated. “I’ve used these mages to carve out my kingdom. But they can do more than make castles. They can bring the rock to life.”

  Kahar scooped up the sword and approached M’dalla. She squirmed in the giant’s grasp but was unable to free herself. A single spin and she could shift away, but it was clenching her too tightly to allow it.

  “You’ve been snooping,” Kahar said, and he poked the tip of the sword into her cheek.

  M’dalla could feel the cold steel piercing her skin. “Go ahead,” she challenged him.

  He lowered the sword. “Do you know why I keep such a tight leash on my mages? Sure, their magic is useful and has helped me save Terrastream. But it’s a story a heard long ago that led to this.” He rattled the chains again. “There was a time in Ghumaic history when those born with magic thought they were better than those without. They believed this gift gave them permission to rule over the land. And so they did.