Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  A dwarven castle filled with corpses, flies buzzing, goblins picking their way through the dead, looking for survivors. A black armored goblin killing a dwarven patrol with just a touch. Then a battle between a dwarven army and the goblin horde infesting the ruined castle. The piling of dirt over a pit where the goblin commander had been finally trapped.

  It shifted to images of a young elven girl getting ambushed by goblins and taken in the night. Then the Elven King he’d seen in Melissa’s pool falling to his knees, screaming. His confinement to bed and the golden armored elven woman riding before her armies.

  Lancaster shimmered into view and his heart began to thud in his chest. Before his eyes, he saw the death of his father, the crowning of John, and the battles that took place after. He watched his brother fight the red armored orc until suddenly the battle was ending and the orc was flying south on the red dragon, Clint at his side. The last image he saw of his brother was before the throne, Bendor standing before him, eyes flaming red, and Serix walking up behind the dwarf. Then white light flared into existence and the image faded away.

  The images returned to the elven fortress. The Elven King was still bed-ridden and remained unconscious even as the castle burned to the ground around him. The golden armored Queen that he’d seen before lay on the battlefield surrounded by her countrymen, and as her body was lifted and thrown into a pit, he watched her roll down the side and land on his brother’s corpse.

  No!

  Things shifted faster than. The dwarven fortresses falling one by one, Lancaster in flames. The hordes marching, intermixed with towns burning. None were spared as the entire known world was engulfed by the Phoenix’s hordes and burned to ash by dragonfire. The image rose high into the air until the entire land mass was in view, the land blackened and all life extinguished. Flames rose from the Deadlands in the form of a flying bird, then it all faded and went back to just being a dwindling fire.

  “That is why we are here. To stop that. Everything else, as horrible as it is, is secondary to our quest being accomplished. You know how much I cared for your brother, I saw a younger side of myself in him. He was brave and he always pushed himself beyond his limits to save those he cared about. Even though he was exhausted, he came to your aid by the lake. When part of our group was taken, he hid the swords from the horsemen, then without hesitation, flew to their rescue. That is the sort of man your brother was. And I will honor his life and courage by continuing on and finishing this thing. Because as much as you wish you hadn’t come along, you have to realize that there was nowhere you two could have gone to escape what’s coming. In the end, the result would be the same. Except right here, right now, you have the chance to change it. To stop others from meeting this same fate. To take all that anger rising up inside you and harness it, focus it, and point it where it really belongs—at the Phoenix,” Merlin told Reyna, yet it felt like he was talking to them all.

  “Kylee was able to retrieve Dragonslayer at her own personal cost,” the mage continued. Willow threw a startled glance her sister’s way but the ranger only shook her head and mouthed later. “We have what we have come for and now that we have all four keys, we can finally go to Sherwood Forest and retrieve Excalibur.”

  “Why is that sword so damn important? How can one crappy sword change any of that?” Reyna sobbed, her hand stroking Jared’s hair.

  Merlin sighed. “That Elven King you saw, his name is Erik, and at the moment he is being torn between two lives; the one that used to be and the one that is. It is not something that he is capable of dealing with alone and only Excalibur can heal his soul and make him whole again. With the sword, he can unify all the races and march to the Deadlands and face the Phoenix head on. That “crappy sword” as you put it, is the only thing that can destroy the Book of the Dead and kill the Phoenix once and for all.”

  “Does it even matter to you how many of us die along the way?” Reyna returned, unwilling to let it go. He didn’t blame her, if that were John—

  He also didn’t have to hear Merlin’s answer, it was plain on his face.

  After a moment, the mage continued. “All that matters is that we stop her anyway we can. You saw those creatures she created? They were her own version of the Four Horsemen. I told you about Death, well that’s War,” Merlin pushed, pointing at the corpse in the distance. “He led the army that assaulted Lancaster and when his hordes were beaten, he came here to stop us. She didn’t care about her forces running scattered to the north, she has a hell of a lot more where they came from. No, she sent him here. That harpy you saw in the vision? That was Famine, and she wiped out almost every northern village from Alamar to Forlorn. And that dwarven castle full of corpses? That was Pestilence. Tens of thousands have already died in this war, and it has only just begun. Three of her horsemen are dead, one is disobeying her, and in her eyes, might as well be dead as well. Do you think that she will call it quits and never try again? I assure you that even now she’s moving to replace them, and she will make them even more formidable now that she knows their weakness and what to protect them from. The Four Horsemen will ride again and I need you with me if we’re going to have any chance of stopping them.”

  “It’s never been me that you wanted. It was him,” she declared, her hand running down Jared’s cooling cheek. “Don’t pretend otherwise. You can all go, leave me here. I’ll make my way north and finish this myself without your precious sword.”

  Merlin shook his head. “You’ll never make it.”

  “Jared did,” she answered and Tristan knew that she was thinking of how her brother had risked it all to save her, that she would now do the same to avenge his death. Her face said it all.

  “Your brother’s powers protected him and he still only barely made it out alive. And that was only the outskirts of an army besieging an enemy castle. You’re talking about marching through every orc and goblin town between Alamar and the Phoenix’s fortress. And even if you survived that far, you’d have to contend with the Phoenix herself. Your sword is not enough,” Merlin told her.

  Reyna glared up at him, then her eyes softened as she glanced down at her brother, her face once more filled with grief. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but whatever it is will be my choice mage. You will not force or blackmail me into anything. Now, can I have some time alone with my brother?”

  Merlin knew better than to push it and motioned for the others to give them some space.

  He took Willow’s hand and together they moved off with the ranger by their side. Willow had questions that needed to be asked and Kylee began telling her what had happened after she’d taken off after Clint.

  He half-listened, his eyes being drawn back to the broken knight sitting there with her brother’s head in her lap. He couldn’t help but feel her pain. They’d all experienced so much loss lately, how much more would be taken before this was over? His fingers traced the pommel on his left hip and he grew more determined to see this through. For his father, mother, and his recently departed comrade. Their sacrifices would not be in vain due to a lack of effort on his part. He would find that sword and continue on this journey until the Phoenix was dead, or he was.

  II

  They had made camp on the northern part of the fortress in what might have been an inn. Only walls remained and though there might have been somewhere more comfortable, it felt more secluded in the off-chance that Clint would return with reinforcements. As the sun rose, Tristan got slowly to his feet and approached the older magician, who sat facing the sunrise, eyes distant; lost in reflection.

  “How did all those orcs get here anyways?” he asked, giving voice to something that had been bothering him the night before.

  Merlin shrugged himself out of his thoughts, looked his way, and for a moment it seemed the older man was looking through him as well. “There were two large baskets discarded behind the palace and I’m assuming the dragons carried the orcs in on those.”

  “Assuming, you don’t know?” Reyna asked, s
tepping from the morning shadows and returning to the group for the first time since they’d left her the night before. “You’re the all-seeing-future-possibilities magician, who’s lived through all of this already, and you don’t know how they got here?”

  “If I stop to analyze every little thing then that’s all I’ll be doing. There are millions of possibilities to every situation. Maybe you duck left, or Tristan ducks right. Each one leading to a different future. There’s no way I could predict or know every little thing. Yes, I assume, because logic dictates that it’s the most plausible explanation. Am I right? I don’t know, go look at the ropes attached to those baskets and tell me if they have claw marks on them. Me? I’m not going to bother because it doesn’t matter how they got here. They were here and now one of us is dead. Knowing won’t change that,” Merlin answered, his temper a little hot this morning.

  Reyna eyed the mage for a moment longer. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t know that my brother was going to die and save me the speech about the greater good. You’re in this because you have a hero complex and we’re only useful until we serve our purpose. As long as your agenda gets moved along, we’re expendable. Don’t bother denying it and there’s no point in arguing. I’m going with you. Not for your quest, or to “save the world”. I’m going with you because I know that when we get to the end of this idiotic crusade, there’s going to be two people in that room atop the Phoenix’s fortress. The Phoenix and you. You’d better pray that once I slay that bitch I don’t finish you off as well. After all, once she’s dead, then you’re the one that is expendable.”

  The black knight began to turn away, then glared at Tristan. “And you and I are going to get to work on training your sorry ass how to fight. If you knew how to handle those “magical” swords you’re carrying, you’d have either used your father’s sword on the orc, or cut him down when he stood in your way. Either way, the orc would be dead and my brother would still be alive. So, I’m going to train you on how to fight, and the next time someone dies due to your bad judgment, you’ll be out of excuses and I can kill you without feeling guilty over it.”

  Reyna walked away and he was unable to voice a reply; his throat had gone dry.

  “It’s the grief talking,” Merlin tried to comfort him.

  It didn’t work because he knew that she was right.

  Willow was snoring behind him and he lowered his voice as to not disturb her. She needed her sleep; the pregnancy was making her increasingly more exhausted and the night before she’d been dead on her feet. For her sake, he had to finish this quickly.

  “So, we’re going to Sherwood, then what?” he asked Merlin.

  A shadow fell over him and he jerked in reaction. Looking up he saw the eagle head of one of the griffins and knew from the colors of his feathers that Kallen had come to speak to Merlin.

  “We’ll only be taking you as far as Sherwood, mage,” Kallen told them. “Dragons have come south and the rest of the clans must be warned. We’ll take you there because it’s on the way, but after that we must part ways.”

  Merlin grimaced, but nodded in understanding.

  He simply shook his head with sudden dread. They could have flown to Forlorn and been there in days, now it would take weeks? Did they have that kind of time? Would Willow be forced to have their baby in the wild? He couldn’t allow that.

  “Any sign of Wyrddlin?” Merlin asked the griffin and Tristan realized he hadn’t seen the dragon since he’d gone off after the fleeing red.

  “He hasn’t returned from the chase. I hope he had a good hunt,” Kallen responded, then turned and stalked away.

  He looked to the mage. “Did you know about Jared?”

  Merlin’s eyes were on the griffin, and only after a moment did the mage take a deep breath and turn them on him. “No. Despite what Reyna thinks, I had no idea. That orc that killed him was transformed by the Phoenix herself into the Horsemen of War, and as such was afforded some degree of protection from my sight. I knew something would happen, but not what nor by whom. The only thing I saw for certain was Kylee leaping at Clint and both of them tumbling out of that tower to their deaths below. And as you can see,” Merlin offered, waving at the ranger who was busy fixing breakfast, “I am not always right. From the moment I met her, I knew this day would come, that she would meet the man that had butchered her family and she’d get her revenge. And yes, I did know that it came with a price, but I took a chance that something would change along the way and she’d be saved from her pointless death. It has. You and Willow bonded with her, gave her a strength that she hadn’t known for a long time; love. It was that, and that alone, that kept her from making that plunge. And though she is angry at missing her chance at getting her revenge, she’s alive and has the two of you to fall back on.”

  “Will she get the chance again?” he pushed, looking at Kylee as he did so. She glanced his way and knew that she was hearing every word they spoke. Her face seemed passive and he doubted he’d be that calm after finding out that she was supposed to die and Merlin knew it the entire time.

  “It’s uncertain. He has become clouded from my sight, protected by the Phoenix, and nothing I can do will give you the answers you seek. Either of you,” Merlin responded, looking to him, then the ranger. “I make no promises. I will tell you that none of you are expendable. I grieve with every loss and moving forward is not a sign of indifference, but one of respect. If we stopped now and walked away, then what was the point of Jared’s death? What purpose would it serve but to kill any chance the world has at survival. And yes, that sounds dramatic, I get that, but I can’t sugar coat it or belittle what’s at stake. Too much hinges on finding the sword and giving it to Erik. Once that’s done, maybe things will not seem so dire, but to be frank, this is war. People will die before this all over and nothing I can do or say will prevent that. How we go out though, that’s up to us to decide. On our knees or on our feet.”

  Merlin rose and looked down at him. “I choose to meet our fate standing up and moving forward. Now, let’s go find Excalibur.”

  Chapter 14

  Sherwood

  I

  Before they’d taken off, Tristan threw one last glance towards the palace and he almost wished he hadn’t. Reyna had been busy the night before. The dragon had been ripped further apart, its giant ribs used as spikes, which lined the outlined the outside of the palace, an orc head speared on each one. The rest of the corpses had been completely dismembered and thrown down as a barrier before the ribs, the grisly scene making him hope that Kore didn’t see it. Had those been human bodies—

  There was no sign of Jared but judging by the work Reyna had done, he could guess that he’d been laid down within the palace walls.

  They flew north for the remainder of the morning; no one having spoken since their conversation with Merlin that morning. A cloud hung over the group now and though they all moved with renewed determination; there were no smiles. Only grim “let’s get it done” looks. They were all grieving over Jared’s loss in their own way.

  Even Kore moved slower, as if feeling responsible for the young boy’s death at the hands of his kin. He looked at the orc riding the griffin on his right and felt an odd stirring in his head. He had grown so accustomed to the orc’s presence that he no longer saw him as anything other than Kore. When he had looked at the corpses in front of the palace, it had been in a satisfied detached way. It wasn’t the same when he looked at the tall warrior. Kore had somehow grown apart in his mind and was no longer just an orc, he was his friend.

  They landed on the edge of a dark forbidding forest at the base of the Drago Mountains, and though he felt excited at the prospect of what was coming next, he couldn’t help but feel regret that they were saying goodbye to their griffin companions. Though they had kept to themselves and rarely spoke, deferring to the head of their clan to speak on their behalf, they were extremely intelligent and friendly.

  He removed his saddlebags, resting his bundled armor on the
ground so that he could walk around to speak to the griffin unencumbered. “Thank you for rescuing me and for giving us a ride,” he told the large beast as the eagle head swung his way, a large eye taking his measure.

  The griffin’s head bounced in a bird-like fashion, then he spoke for the first time since that horrible night in Kershaw. “You’re welcome. Thank you for recognizing that I am more than just a horse.”

  He chuckled. “That’d be hard to do. What’s your name?”

  “Jebediah,” the griffin responded, then eyed him one last time before turning to meet with the rest of his brethren, Kallen signaling that it was time to take their leave.

  “Have a safe journey!” he called, but he wasn’t sure if he had been heard as the gigantic creatures spread their wings and plunged into the air. He was sad to see them go. Token had their horses and that meant from here on out they were on foot. Lugging their supplies and armor was going to get old, very fast.

  He looked to the countryside and saw smoke to the north. Were there any settlements in that direction? For the life of him he couldn’t remember. To the east were endless plains. Along the entire western horizon, stretching from the mountains to his rear, was a dense and dark forest. He’d heard tales of Sherwood as a child and he got a chill as a sudden gust of wind created a whistling noise in the trees that almost sounded like a scream.

  The woods were supposed to be haunted. Ghosts leftover from before the Dark Ages were rumored to protest the violent deaths they’d been dealt at the hands of the Phoenix and would forever make their anger be known.

  No matter how much they’d been whipped, the slaves refused to enter those woods even if it meant their deaths. No one had dared to settle within. Even when the Phoenix had supposedly been destroyed and the world filled with hope, it remained a dark specter of the past; avoided at all cost.