The Willbreaker (Book 1)

by Mike Simmons

  “We are going to make it.” Brandon said, looking at the others. “We are going to win this war and everything will be set back as it should be.” Edward and Jasmine nodded with forged smiles. Brandon wondered if he tried to convince them, or himself.

  Morning came quickly and before the sun fully reached the horizon, the group resumed their journey. The minutes passed like seconds, and the hours passed like minutes. Before too long, Brandon raised his head and gasped. Over the tree line, he could see the magnificent white towers of Orlimay. Five major towers, all elegant and slender, stretched towards the sky. From here, Brandon could imagine the towers, like fingers, reaching for the clouds.

  Brandon rode slowly through the woods, wary of any sounds or movement. As he neared the edge of the trees, the land flattened out onto a field of thick green grass. Orlimay rose from the ground like a white marble masterpiece on the other side of the grassy plain. All white marble buildings of various heights shot upward from the city, each topped with a smooth and conical roof covered in gold.

  The city stood on a colossal circular disk made from the same white marble as the city’s buildings. A moat of beautifully blue water surrounded it. Spanning from the disk, wide bridges connected the main land to the city within, all equally white and ornate. Brandon, Edward, and Jasmine all stared in awe at the majestic city before them. The cities of Karpathos paled in comparison to Orlimay’s beauty.

  Brandon peered into the wood’s edge to his right. Smoking torches and the black and silver shields of men shimmered and flicked light through the dark woods. The entire forest seemed to writhe and move. None of the men stood on the coverless plain, but ten trebuchets and countless ballistas were set into position on the edge of the grass. Brandon’s heart raced.

  Lord Cedric Reinhold stood tall at the trees edge, hands upon his hips, as he stared at the city before him. Janga Blackhand, in a mighty suit of blackened war armor, stood to his right and Arkam Icebreath in his black and blue cloth armor stood to his left. Next to them stood Ess, the High Shaman of the Hermetic Order of Helios, Hronlin, the leader of the wild men of the mountains, and High Templar Ri’Kel’Asan Reyendar, Commander of the Templars of Highren’Dol.

  Cedric drew in a deep and calm breath. His mind, clear and tranquil, thought of one thing; Aurora. Aurora waited somewhere in the city ahead. He imagined that she looked out from the city, out towards the army that waited and stared right at him. Reinhold stared back, hoping she could see him.

  “Is the Beacon safe?” Cedric turned to look at Janga.

  “Safe and secure, Sire. She is with ten of our finest and mounted on Arrow, our fastest colt. At a moment’s notice she can be out of immediate danger.”

  “And the Boatman?”

  Janga pointed behind them with his chin. “He’s ready.”

  Aurora watched the movement of the men in the trees from her tower. From this elevation, she could see the entire battleground area and half of the city. Aurora wished that her sister stood with her; she had lost sense of her over a week ago. In addition to being able to move things with her mind, Aurora had telepathic powers, all a part of the Psionic aspect of the Mind sphere. She could connect with someone and communicate with them in their thoughts. She used the same power when reaching for the Watcher, but she could no longer feel her sister’s consciousness. She had either been captured and held deep underground, or more likely, she had been killed. Aurora kept her cool, but thoughts of her sister stuck in her mind.

  Aurora did not look at this war as a gamble. She knew in her heart that Reinhold would fall beneath her boot, and although none of her scouts had returned, she estimated his army at no more than twenty-thousand. Aurora’s army of Blade Maidens reached two-hundred thousand not including her army of Gifted. This would be Reinhold’s last foolish mistake. She would be sure of it, and once she obliterated his forces, she would march north with the rest of her forces to destroy Castle Belkin and claim the land for her own.

  Aurora decided she would stay in the tower to oversee the battle. She did not need to assist the others; her army would destroy Reinhold’s measly forces before dinner. She peered over the heavy artillery placed along the forests edge. The Gifted would have no trouble dispatching the flying ammunitions.

  “It’s time to finally end this,” she said quietly to herself. Thoughtlessly, she spoke to Gretchen Lomire, Commander General of the Blade Maidens. She channeled the voice inside her head towards Gretchen’s focusing conscious. When she spoke from the tower, Gretchen, near the gates below, heard her as if she stood side by side with the Empress.

  “Move the Maiden’s to the battlefield. Order the Air Benders to watch the long-range weaponry and have the Earth Breakers prepare for second wave. The Flame Legion will be right behind you. Do not worry; this battle will not last very long. Leave no survivors, but bring Reinhold to me, alive and unharmed.”

  Aurora watched as the ground shifted with movement. Heavy footsteps neared from the stairwell behind her. Aurora did not move or shift her watchful eye. The footsteps stopped, followed by a heavy thud on the floor.

  Aurora casually turned to look at the man before her. The man had one knee to the floor and his head tilted down in a deep bow. Scars covered his bronze body and his rippled muscles bulged from underneath his tight skin. Even on a knee, the top of Princess’s back reached Aurora at chest level.

  Princess wore a tight, black leather mask that covered his whole head, excluding the two holes where his ice blue eyes peered. Two small holes opened at the nose and a silver zipper ran closed along his mouth. His bare chest glistened with sweat and he wore only elk-skin boots, a fur loincloth, and the black leather facemask. A long whip, constructed of interlocking metal links, dangled from his hip. The whips end, topped with a saw blade, curled onto the floor.

  Aurora reached out her pointer ringer and touched the top of Princess’s head as she walked around him. “Gather the Lash Lords. Have them battle ready. Chances are we won’t need you, but just in case.” She flicked her finger off his head.

  In a muffled voice, Princess said, “Yes, Empress Aurora. Your wish is my command. I do your bidding.” Princess stayed in the bowed position. Too many times had he tried to move early and received gut-wrenching pain as punishment from his Empress. She controlled him, and he did exactly what she said.

  Aurora smiled. Good job, pet. “You may go now.”

  Princess stood up, towering over Aurora, and rushed down the stairs.

  The opening of city gates echoed over the grass plain. The men in the trees all perked up to attention, watching the armored Blade Maidens pour from multiple gates around the city’s edge. They marched in unison, filing out with order and direction.

  Cedric spoke to Janga. “Bring out the ammunition, and load the artillery.” With a quick nod, Janga disappeared. Cedric realized from the last encounter that air benders could easily knock out bulky rocks and explosives from the air, so this time around, he improved his strategy. Taking extra wagon wheels, Cedric had them sheeted in iron, like metal flying disks, and edged with iron barbs and blades. These bladed wheels where heavy enough to chop through rough wind and would fly fast enough to act like flying saws. The horses grunted as they pulled the heavy wagons out of the wood’s edge, near the trebuchets and ballistas. Soldiers loaded the disks into the trebuchet buckets, each holding ten to fifteen wheels. Other soldiers cocked and loaded the ballistas eight-foot spears, thick as a man’s arm. As they prepared, Aurora’s Blade Maidens filled up the plains area in front of Orlimay.

  Lord Reinhold nodded his head. Hronlin and his wild men ran through the woods to his right as Ess and his nomads moved away to his left. The main elven army, led by Ri’Kel’Asan Reyendar, and the rest of his army, led by Janga Blackhand, shifted forward through the woods onto the flat grassy plain.

  The Templars of the Highren’Dol, all marching in perfect unison, blades draped across the right shoulders of each warrior, moved in large blocks directly forward. Janga lead the Red Lion Arm
y forward as well, marching to the left of the Templars. Arkam and the Ice Lancers hid in the woods and vanished out of sight.

  Cedric rode through the ranks of men and elves onto the battlefield. He met at the head of the group, where Janga and Ri’Kel’Asan waited. Cedric looked to both flanks. He could see the movement of the wild men and the nomads shifting through the woods, exactly as he expected.

  Aurora’s visible army stood nearly twice as large as Reinhold’s. Even with the nomads and the wild men, Reinhold’s men were heavily outnumbered. However, he did have a wildcard. Reinhold wondered how many available units Aurora still held within the city.

  As they gathered, Janga caught Reinhold’s attention. Riding at them from the opposing army, three armored and battle equipped women approached. Cedric, Janga, and Ri’Kel’Asan rode ahead to meet the other riders in the middle of the battlefield.

  The three Blade Maidens stopped as Reinhold and his men neared. The maiden in the lead, a beautiful woman, had long blonde hair that flowed around her shoulders, and stunning grey eyes. She spoke up first.

  “My name is Gretchen Lomire, Commander General of the Blade Maidens, Scarlet Brigade. I am leading this defense against your paltry attack. Stand down, and we will discuss the terms of your surrender. If you chose to disregard my offer, we will strike you down and leave no man standing.”

  Reinhold answered. “Well, as appealing as your offer sounds, I am afraid we are going to have to refuse.”

  The Blade Maiden on Gretchen’s right side spat on the ground. Long, curly hair draped down her back and her deep green eyes glared hard at the three men. “Such pigs! You will not be so cocky when blood spills from your body and your friends and warriors lay butchered under our feet!” She yanked on her reigns, causing her horse to rear up on its hind legs.

  Gretchen glared at Reinhold. “You had your chance, King. Now you will pay for your insolence.” The three women turned and rode quickly back towards Orlimay.

  “That went well.” Janga joked, but no one laughed. Turning their horses around, they raced back towards their army as well.

  Once reunited with the men on the battlefield, Reinhold turned to look at the Blade Maidens. His horse pranced and jittered around, anxious from the excitement. Cedric reached down to his hip and withdrew the Heart of the King. A nova of wind, focused on Cedric, erupted outward in a ring, blowing through the standing men and elves and across the plains. Ringing still echoed through the trees as Cedric held the sword skyward.

  “Here we are! This moment will set the history of this world! This is the moment when men and elves, nomads and wild men, stand united to fight an evil that has overshadowed this world for far too long! Do not hesitate to strike down your enemy! They are women, but if you hesitate, they will strike you down as hard as any man! They will come without mercy, without compassion or pity! And they have trained their entire lives! Be prepared for the hardest fight of your lives! But we are here for the greater good! We are here because we are the only ones who have the capacity to challenge the wicked! We are the hands of light, and today, light will shine clear! Let our pursuit of happiness and freedom guide your hands! Let our dedication to honor men and women alike hold your shields strong! Be ready for metal, be ready for the Gifted, and fight under the Banner of the Red Lion! Today, we ride into battle as one, and as one we will be victorious!”

  Reinhold’s men burst into the shouts of war. The Templars slammed their gauntlet-covered hands against their chests twice, filling the air with noise.

  Across the field, Gretchen looked towards the men and elves. She spoke within her mind, directing it toward Aurora.

  “There are more of them than I expected, but no matter. We will wipe the battlefield with their corpses. This will be Reinhold’s last stand.”

  Aurora, calm, responded, “Let it begin.”

  Chapter 20 - Beginning of the End

  Ny’Ael Sithek stood in the front row of the Templars, along with a thousand of his brothers. His bladed polearm rested at the precise angle on his shoulder to match the flowing line of elves to either side of him. He looked across the grassy plains to the majestic and towering city of Orlimay. It stood like a beacon of beauty, white marble with golden-topped towers, but the truth differed greatly for Ny’Ael and his fellow Templars.

  Ny’Ael earned his Templar Shield on the celebration of his eighteenth birth year. He entered Templar training at the age of eight and ten years later, he earned the right to call himself a true Templar of the Highren’Dol.

  A master swordsman, Ny’Ael used his gift of Mind to manipulate the air around him and excel in swordplay. His natural talent and ability to change the atmosphere around his opponents brought him the attention of the elven lords. The combination of his air bending and his sword skills moved him through the ranks quickly. One year after his promotion, the Lords of the Green suited Ny’Ael for marriage. The daughter of a noble weapon crafter, Ny’Ael’s wife blessed their marriage with a baby one year after their union. A beautiful, blue-eyed baby boy, Tho’Ael, gave reason for Ny’Ael to fight.

  Tho’Ael entered his first year of training this year. Although Ny’Ael missed his initiation into Templar training, his wife and son knew Ny’Ael donned sword and shield in the name of honor. Glory came to those who gave their lives in the name of the light.

  Ny’Ael gripped the handle of his razor sharp polearm tightly. Crafted from elven willow wood, the shafts of the polearms had the strength of fine steel and the flexibility and weight of bamboo. On the top of the shafts connected a long curved blade, sharp enough to shave a face, but strong enough to chop down a tree. Due to the lightweight nature and six-foot length of the polearms, the Templars also carried shields. In conjunction with their weapon training and the high number of Gifted within their ranks, the Templars of the Highren’Dol posed considerable threat.

  The leader of the human army, Lord Cedric Reinhold, rode back from the center of the battlefield. Ny’Ael and the others waited patiently as he met with three of the women from the opposing force. After a moment of inaudible talking, both sides of riders returned to their side of the battlefield. Lord Reinhold gathered in the front ranks of the army and shouted words of encouragement and battle, but the exact words he spoke were imperceptible from Ny’Ael’s position.

  Cedric raised his sword in the air with a final yell. Even though he could not hear him, the tone of his voice made Ny’Ael’s blood pump. As the Heart of the King went skyward, Ny’Ael and the rest of the Templars slammed their fists into their chests, making a metal on metal resonance that echoed through the plains.

  Thoughts of Tho’Ael and Ri’Ael, his wife, flooded his mind. He felt the blood pumping through his veins. Thump. Thump. Thump. His breathing became more rapid and his focus became clear. His fellow elves moved and adjusted their armors as well, readying for the combat that faced them shortly.

  Across the battlefield, the Blade Maidens grunted twice, loud and in unison. The sound, fierce and intimidating, did not sound like it came from women. Like a wave of birds in flight, the maidens polearms drops down into battle position and they moved forward.

  Ny’Ael quickly pulled out the intricate silver necklace from around his neck, kissing the willow wood heart pendant, and said to himself, “This is for you, Ri’ and Tho’Ael. May your love guide to me honor.” He tucked the pendant away, gritted his teeth, and yelled out as the line of Templars advanced towards the center of the battlefield.

  The moans and creaks of the trebuchets groaned aloud as they whipped their payloads into the air. The metal-clad wheels whistled and buzzed as they became airborne. The polished metal covers on the wagon wheels made the bright sun reflect off them, making them difficult to see. Magical wind rushed through the air in attempt to knock them down, but the blades just gyrated and thrashed chaotically in the currents of the wind. Some of the wheels shot upward, gaining distance, as others jetted down into the army of women below. The wheels, like rotating saw blades, cut through metal, flesh, and
bone as they tossed and tilled up the earth, leaving a churned path of destruction behind them. Maiden’s bodies were shredded and dismembered as they tried to avoid the incoming wheels of death. The waist and legs of one maiden rested twenty feet away from her torso, and the limbs of others lied randomly apart from their bodies in the wreckage. Women screamed and cried as others moved forward.

  As the large group of Templars moved, the speed of their advance increased, and as they progressed into a run, the sounds of their armor and shields clinking faded away from their cries of battle. Ny’Ael focused on one particular maiden in the wall of inbound warriors. She seemed to look at him as well, disgust and hatred streaked across her face. The distance between them closed fast. Elves to his left and right smashed into fighting women; swords, shields, and polearms dropping and slicing, stabbing and hacking. The sound of the collision was tremendous. The maiden ahead of Ny’Ael gripped her polearm in both hands and planted her legs, thrusting the long blade at the end of its shaft towards his middle. His momentum carried him right towards it. With a swift brush of his arm, Ny’Ael smacked the blade away with his shield and he drove the sharp blade of his polearm right into her chest. Metal on metal shrieked as the blade punctured her chest plate, spewing blood from the entry point. Her face transformed from hatred to surprise as her mouth fell open. A single, small cough and she fell backwards.

  Ny’Ael pulled the blade from her chest, just in time to raise his shield as the weight of another maiden’s swinging polearm crashed into him. The shield took the damage, but the strength of her swing buckled his legs, dropping him down to a knee.