Death Knight Box Set Books 1-5: A humorous power fantasy series

by Michael Chatfield

  “This trial was to test if you would follow the letter of the law,” the dwarf said.

  “The law is a tool, one that you used well, to gain a better po- sition for this trial,” the hobgoblin said with approval. The others seemed to agree.

  Aila was nervous as the scene changed around her. She had been fighting against the Drafeng for years.

  “We need to run!” a captain yelled. “They broke through the north wall!”

  “What about the people?”

  “They can fend for themselves!” the guard yelled, eyes wide, and ran away.

  She knew that the battle was lost, but there were people within the city already. Her fellow guards were dead or fleeing. She was young; she had her whole life ahead of her. Running away would be so easy.

  If I take a step forward, I’ll die.

  She looked at that symbol on her chest, the emblem of a Guardian. She was weak, so weak now.

  She sent power into the building around her. It came apart, forming three golems.

  She saw beams hitting the walls of the city. Chaotic rounds slammed into buildings, exploding and sending rubble everywhere. Aila raised her hand as a round hit a building close to her.

  She was thrown off her feet and stone chips cut her hand and her face. She landed, wincing from the impact. More rounds landed all around her.

  She forced herself back up and toward the wall.

  Come on, Aila. Come on! Just get to the wall.

  She took that fear and she owned it, focusing on just getting to the wall.

  There were stumbles and scrapes.

  A section of the wall exploded. A golem moved in front of her, protecting her.

  She ran forward and made it to a set of stairs and ran up it.

  Catapults hurled stones, rubble, wood, magical enchanted rounds; anything that they could launch and would hurt the Drafeng, they launched. The wood of the catapults groaned as they released their payloads.

  People were still on the wall. Dead bodies lay here and there; people cried out in pain as others tried to help them. More were

  hiding behind the walls, pale with fright as they held their weapons.

  Aila stayed low as the attacks started to fade away.

  “They’re coming!” someone yelled. People along the walls stood and Aila raised her head to look over the wall.

  She saw the lines of Drafeng, their chaotic beasts leading the charge. The commanders stayed in the rear, recovering next to their mobile towers.

  The defending catapults never stopped firing. Their attacks landed in the midst of the rushing army, tearing through their ranks.

  “Man the defenses!” one yelled out as people gaped at the on- coming enemy.

  Ballistas were reloaded and fired. Aila reduced the size of her golems to human size, forming nine in total. She attached souls to ballistas, the golems reloading as the ballistas fired themselves.

  Aila was panting from spending so much mana as she grabbed a bow. Just like hunting in the mountains.

  She drew back the bow, using her Far Sight, and released. The arrow flew true. She didn’t watch it; she didn’t have time as she drew and released, changing her targets continuously.

  The defenders were doing everything they could to thin the en- emy. Chaotic beasts got into range, releasing a barrage of chaotic beams that struck that wall, leaving scars in it. If they hit a person, they would be thrown backward. At extreme range, they weren’t deadly but they could seriously harm.

  Aila focused on what she was doing, just repeating the same motions again and again as her soul-attached creatures worked tire- lessly.

  The army made it to the wall. It was holed and broken in places.

  Ragtag groups of soldiers stood in the breaches.

  Gnome weapons fired. Goblin squads threw out grenades and other explosives, killing tens. Familiars supported from the rear, us- ing ranged attacks; their human masters fed them power, their fa- miliar sigils blazing. Elves used their bows and formed magic runes in the air, trying to thin the enemies numbers. Beast kin hacked at the chaotic beasts climbing the walls and fired their own bows or hurled spears, their bodies glowing with clan tattoos. Dwarves were covered in clouds of smoke as they fired their firearms and mortars. They were fighting together.

  Standing with them, Aila saw a united Dena, a Dena that didn’t care about internal conflicts.

  A dwarf saved a beast kin’s life and a human defended an elven mage casting a spell.

  Aila let out a yell; she drew her blades as a chaotic beast ap- peared on the wall. She slashed at their face and plunged her blade into their neck.

  They swiped at her, but she dropped and pushed her feet against the battlements, sliding backward. She spun her legs, get- ting to her feet. The beast she attacked had fallen off the wall, but there were others.

  She felt power returning to her as a ballista was smashed apart. She grabbed a spear on the side and threw it. The golem man- ning the ballista grabbed it and stabbed it into the beast that had

  destroyed the ballista.

  “We’re getting overrun!” one of the dwarves called out, pan- icked.

  “There isn’t anywhere to pull back to,” Aila replied. The panic that had been ignited chilled.

  “For Dena! For the people!” someone yelled out.

  “For Dena!” others yelled. It was an admission. They were go- ing to their deaths, but they knew why.

  “It’s a good day to live!” the beast kin yelled.

  “Hold nothing back! Fight with all you have!” Aila yelled as she drew on the power within her body. Pushing past her limits, she directed it into a breach.

  The ground shifted and came together. Small, legless crea- tures—only as high as a human’s knee—with blades for hands ap- peared.

  They slashed out at the chaotic beasts, cutting them as they tried to enter the city.

  Aila was sweating; she felt as if she had aged ten years. She stumbled backward. She gritted her teeth as she fought beside the golems on the wall. The chaotic beasts were climbing up across the wall.

  It only slowed them; it didn’t stop them. People cried out as they lost their fights.

  Aila released curses. The dark magic landed on the beasts, mak- ing them blind and deaf, shoving them off the wall to fight in among the other beasts.

  “Drafeng!” some called out.

  Aila looked over the wall, seeing the grouped Drafeng. Two massive arms were on their back. They hurled spears or simply fired beams of chaotic power, targeting the areas the chaotic beasts were having trouble.

  “They’re going ranged!” she yelled, turning her head to the side. She turned back as a spear hit her in the chest and slammed her into the opposing battlement. She felt that cold chaotic power of the weapon feeding off her power, pinning her to the wall be- hind.

  She cried out, seeing her life—the people she would never see again, the regrets of things left undone or risks she had avoided and wished she’d taken.

  Power flowed through her veins, more pure and powerful than anything she had ever experienced before. Her eyes turned com- pletely black as a smoke appeared around her hands.

  She slammed them down into the wall. More of the slashing mushroom-like creatures appeared across the wall, attacking the chaotic beasts.

  Several golem knights rose from the rubble and dirt, grabbing weapons or forming their bodies into them. They let out a yell, charging forward to meet the chaotic beasts and Drafeng.

  I did my duty. Just a bit longer.

  She looked at the fighting, the world losing sound as it was filled with color. People charged into the fight, using everything they had. Blood was spilled and death filled the air. Their doom was coming; they knew that there was no escape but the cold embrace of the afterlife.

  Many will not know what happened here—another battle, an- other fight that will fade with time. We will know and we will know that if there are those who look upon this fight, then we did our duty and won in the end.


  Aila felt stunning clarity as the battlefield faded away.

  Her emotions were stirred up as she was once again on that pedestal with the Tribunal.

  “Next,” Aila said, her voice coarse and her eyes itching. The leaders nodded as Aila found herself on a farm.

  Lives passed; Aila immersed herself into each and every one before her trial ended and a new life began. She didn’t know how many trials she went through until she stood in front of the Tri- bunal again. She was numb, spent; her core values had been tested. She felt stripped clean and bare. All of her thoughts, her emotions were laid out for others to see.

  She didn’t care. That was her; whether she was worthy to be a Guardian or not, she had learned what kind of person she was,

  what she cared about, and what she was willing to do for what she cared about.

  “In your second battle, you raised golems instead of people.

  Why is that?” the elven leader asked.

  “Takes more power to raise undead. Didn’t know if they were strong enough to make it worth it. Golems are cheaper and still ef- fective,” Aila answered honestly.

  “You used tricks and deception at times in order to leverage the truth or to force someone to do your bidding. Why?” the hobgob- lin asked.

  “I knew the information was there; I only got it out of them. I didn’t hurt or harm them. People’s words and their care for their position work against them. Arrogance is an aid to others, if used right.”

  “You killed other people. Why?” the elemental asked.

  “Not all people are worth saving. If a person intends another harm, then I will prevent them from doing so. If I have to, that means I need to kill them. I protect the people of Dena, but that doesn’t mean that I protect those who wish to harm others.”

  “You used dark arts to kill and to fight. Would you use other arts?” the human asked.

  “Ask him.” Aila pointed at the elven leader.

  “One is attuned to dark magic; using other magic is like cutting off their hand. They can still do things, but their power is greatly reduced,” he replied in her stead.

  They asked question after question and Aila fell into a daze, an- swering them as truthfully as possible.

  ***

  “Did you know?” Claire asked Anthony.

  “I didn’t,” Anthony said as they looked at Aila. It had only been a few minutes, but he knew how in one’s trial a few minutes could

  be days or weeks. Constant trials gave the participant a new life, to challenge them and their values. It would pull out the truth through action and then at the end, they would ask them questions, have them reveal their deepest secrets.

  It reveals one’s inner demons and forces them to confront them. Many are able to lie to themselves and think that they are a Guardian just because they want to be.

  Finally, the eyes started to close around the platform as the Tri- bunal and Aila opened their eyes.

  Aila looked tired, as if she were about to fall, but she stayed up- right.

  “The world is not as simple as people think. Right and wrong—between the two, there is a lot of gray. Others will be sneaky and use plots, so we must learn to adapt and use our own,” the gnome said.

  “Do you agree to carry out the duties of a Guardian, sworn to protect this Dena, its people, whether human, beast kin, gnome, dwarf, goblin, elven, or elemental?” the elven leader asked.

  “I do,” Aila said.

  “Repeat after me, the Guardian Oath.”

  The other members of the Tribunal rose, covering their Guardian symbol.

  ***

  As they started the oath Aila fell into a daze, she was fully under their power, their words of truth rooting through her, bringing out all the memories of the lifetimes and trials she had undergone.

  She knew what was going on, nothing was hazy, it was the most sure she had been of anything, feeling the words fuse into her very soul, the oath, it wasn’t just a collection of words, it was a promise a declaration to the rest of the universe, to the people of Dena and herself.

  She understood the Guardians sacrificed all that they had and were for others, this was their true power and their calling.

  It wasn’t that they welcomed suffering, they just understood that they would rather take that weight from others shoulders.

  “Aila Wranoris, the first of a new generation of Guardians, your path will not be easy, but know that you follow in a long line of oth- ers,” The Elf leader stepped forward, instead of being cold and aloof this one was almost fatherly.

  For a moment she saw behind him elves, no in groups but all together, dark, high, wood, mountain, all the different races of elves as one, one and all wearing the guardian symbol, dedicating their long lives to one cause.

  The Guardian symbol that hung in the air drifted towards he and covered her own formed symbol.

  She staggered slightly under the force of power.

  The world turned dark and she found herself on a dark floor, light was coming from somewhere and there was smoke drifting around her.

  She looked around, drawing her mana, ready, those lifetimes, they had changed her, life, death, trials and tribulations she was not the same person who had started the trial.

  “Hello,” A man’s voice came from the side. She looked over, see- ing someone wearing a cloak.

  “Who are you?” She demanded, ready to fight in a moment. “Me, I have many names, some chosen, others picked. You can

  call me Darjal,” The man’s face was hidden but she heard the smile in his words. Other than the cloak she felt that the man was just a nice father.

  “What is this?” Aila looked around.

  “This, is your Guardian training, well, your class training.” “Class training?” Aila started to relax slightly.

  “It is rare that I get called to train another, but it makes sense,” Darjal said quietly to himself as he put his gloved hands behind his back

  “What is the basis of necromancy?”

  “The awakening of inanimate objects,”Aila said.

  “Very well, it is giving spirit and instincts to hings that do not intrinsically have them,” Drajal nodded.

  Darjal and Aila talked about necromancy, about attack and defensive magic. Necromancy was a taboo subject and Aila rarely talked about it openly, with Darjal they talked openly with her fi- nally able to ask questions that had plagued her for years.

  “How did Necromancy come to be? How was it learned?” Darjal was sitting at a chair, Aila across from him.

  “Equal parts, healing, mechanical crafting, loss, love, revenge and vengeance,” Darjal said, sounding tired and old.

  Aila stared at Darjal, he sighed, they had come to know one an- other well over the last few months in the darkness.

  “There is a story. Once there was a healer, he was a simple man, he sought to help out in the town he lived in where he lived with his wife two daughters and son. His wife was in the guard a strong woman who was equal parts tough and loving.”

  Darjal sat back in his chair.

  The husband tinkered with mechanical constructs on the side, making things to help in the house, to entertain the children.

  “There was a group, they went into the city, they were knights from a noble. There was trouble and a fight broke out, the guards stepped in an one of the knights died. They left but they secretly blamed the guards.

  “Time went by but the knights, they returned. They cam back needing blood. They attacked the guards that had been part of the incident, they found the leader of that group of guards, that same strong loving woman. They let out their rage upon her and her fam-

  ily. The husband was in another town, helping with a childbirth. He returned to the village the next day. He tried everything in his knowledge to bring back his family. Given into rage and grief, he knew of how to enchant items and in madness he enchanted their bodies, they stood upright, but they no longer breathed, they no longer spoke, they were turned into the first walking undead.
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  “The town learned what he had done and turned against him. They banished him, scared of what might happen if the knights and the noble that controlled them found out.

  “

  He waged a war against the noble, the fight turned to the king- dom, against everyone and anything, he lost his path, devolving in- to that madness, he was nearly killed, instead of letting it pass and seeking rest, he bound his soul to an inanimate object, one of his son’s toys. A wooden horse,” Darjal half-laughed.

  “I was known as the first lich, the first necromantic lord, the lord of darkness and retribution,” Darjal pulled back on his hood, Aila let out a hiss, seeing his half skull-half rotting face. She calmed, seeing that same soft light in his eyes he had when talking of his family.

  “I didn’t start off bad, but I became the thing I hated. A guardian brought me justice, brought others that I had hurt and weren’t to blame justice and I got my rest in the end. You have an incredible power Aila Wranoris, use it to bring peace and justice, don’t follow in my path.”

  With that he faded away and Aila was hit with a wave of infor- mation.

  She opened her eyes again, tears running down her face as she reached out for her gift, it came from the love of a father, turned into his vengeance and rage. It was just a power, how it was used dictated if it was good or bad.

  The world faded again and Aila felt her breath halt as she found a blade at her throat.

  “We’ll need to work on your speed and your awareness,” A woman said in Aila’s ear. Aila felt a chill, the woman wasn’t whis- pering it was just she was used to talking so quietly that it never passed more than a few feet away from her and her listener.

  The blade disappeared and Aila jumped out of her seat, rolling and grabbing her daggers, coming into a low crouch.