The Shattered Moon (A Divine Legacy Book 1)

by Alexander J Wilkinson

  They found themselves in a huddled group with a few dozen other soldiers. The rain poured down harder than ever. The darkness that surrounded them lit only by fire and flashes of lightning. Ortuskuss was panting heavily, a fresh scar across his right eye.

  “They keep coming,” he grunted, leaning on one of his fellow Boaruss.

  “Let them come,” Benjin growled.

  Elle threw her last dagger, catching one of the larger beasts in the throat. It hit the ground with a satisfying splat. The constant stream of monsters slowed to a crawl, watching the survivors with their reptilian eyes, peeking out from under their black helms. Elle rubbed the rain from her eyes, accidentally wiping a smear of Aesal’s blood down her soaking wet face. She looked around at the huddled soldiers she found herself with. They were scared, Elle could feel it, like an icy fog of terror that hung over all of them. Her own fear was trying to suffocate her, but she wouldn’t let it. Elle caught a glimpse of Benjin next to her. His feet stumbled in the mud, and he grabbed out at nothing for balance. Elle snatched his hand and held it tight, steadying the old man.

  “Come on. You have to keep going. For Shaya.”

  A steely determination flashed over the man’s ashen face.

  “For Shaya.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The two children stood, frozen as they watched the hulking God rise to his feet, towering over them like a great oak tree. He did not turn to face them. Instead, he stood quietly for a moment. The aura around him lost its purple sheen and returned to its usual empty black. Shaya held her breath.

  “You came alone children?” his voice rumbled “I must say, such courage is admirable. Truly.”

  “Rakmar Balrok,” Rowan’s voice quivered slightly “As King of Arrolyn, I have come to-,”

  Rakmar let out an amused snort “So you’ve taken your father’s title, boy. I thought perhaps the news of his demise would have broken you.”

  “I’m not so easily broken,” Rowan spat.

  “I can see that,” The Fallen One slowly turned to them, a sickening grin flashed across his face.

  Shaya tore her eyes away from the dark figure before them. Looking around she tried to see if there was anyone else lurking in the shadows, she didn’t put it passed Rakmar to lay a trap.

  “We’re quite alone child,” Rakmar smirked as if he’d read her mind “Only I come to this place.”

  “Why?” Shaya was surprised by her own voice “This was your prison. Why come back here?”

  “This was to be my tomb,” he stretched out his arms, gesturing all around them at the barren chunk of rock he called home “But it became my salvation. When mother stranded me here, she made a fatal mistake, apart from letting me live of course. This whole place was filled with her power,” Rakmar sniggered and shook his head, “Fool. By using so much energy to encase me in this crypt, she left traces of it behind. I’ve been able to absorb what little remained over the centuries, making it my own. I was weakened, powerless when she left me to rot. It took what seemed like near endless time, but it was worth the wait,” he ran his hand over one of the black shards that protruded from the ground “It has almost been drained, but no matter. I grew strong enough to challenge my siblings, and now I’m strong enough to end the Goddess herself. So here I linger. Waiting”

  “And how many more people have to die while you wait for your vengeance?”

  “As many as it takes for her to come. All, if need be.”

  Shaya glared at him, his repulsiveness and heartlessness somehow still shocked her. Their eyes met. His hollow and black, hers blue as the ocean. He was staring at her.

  “I must admit, I find you fascinating,” Rakmar stepped forward, pointing a shadowy finger at the young girl “How did you do it? You made me bleed. Me, a God,” he sounded angry, yet enthralled.

  “Come closer, and I’ll show you,” Shaya gripped her sword tighter.

  Rakmar laughed, a deep booming guffaw “I’m impressed by your spirit girl, you are truly quite special.”

  “I’m getting sick of hearing that. And from you, that means nothing to me.”

  Rakmar nodded, his hand shot to one side, and from the familiar swirling blackness, came his equally familiar dark sword, the size of a small tree trunk.

  “Never the less, it’s almost a shame you’ll die, like all the others.”

  Rowan took a step forward, brandishing his blade

  “Together,” said the new king.

  “Together,” Shaya echoed.

  Within a second the God was on them, swinging his sword down like a Boaruss war hammer. The children jumped to the side. The blade smashed into the ground where they had stood, breaking the black rock into ragged shards. Rowan got behind Rakmar and swung for the back of his legs. The Banished One deflected with a lightning fast parry. Shaya attacked from the front with a hail of slashes. The three of them traded blows. Rakmar quick as a flash blocked every swing of a sword. Finally, the flurry came to an abrupt halt as Rowan managed to slash the God’s armour, barely leaving a scratch.

  Suddenly Rakmar threw out a vicious swipe at Rowan’s face, narrowly missing his shocked brown eye. Rowan stumbled backwards. The living shadow took the opportunity to smash the side of his sword into the king’s chest. The young boy was sent flailing to the ground. Shaya took an opportunity of her own and buried Valour into Rakmar’s side. To her surprise, the blade pierced the shadowy armour with a flash of light, and Rakmar let out a roar of agony.

  Before Shaya could attack again, a sledgehammer-like fist crashed into her arm. She felt the armoured shoulder pad shatter before she hit the ground.

  “Pain,” Rakmar grunted, “I had nearly forgotten the feeling.”

  Shaya dug her elbows into the ground as she tried to sit up. She saw Rowan was on his feet again, stumbling on shaking legs.

  “What are you girl? How is this possible?”

  Shaya didn’t have an answer for him, but she wasn’t going to question it, not now. Quickly she clambered to her feet, shaking off the dizziness. She wiped soaking strands of blonde hair out of her face and readied herself for the next attack. Again, he came for her, slashing and swiping violently. She dodged as many as she could, the sword missing by inches, hacking chunks of rock out of the ground. Rowan appeared and dug his sword into Rakmar’s back, no effect.

  “How is this girl more of a threat than you boy? You’re supposed to be the Goddess’s champion," Rakmar angrily shoved Rowan aside with his gauntlet. Shaya jumped behind one the black stalagmites for cover. Rakmar smashed it to pieces, raining rubble down onto the small girl.

  Annoyed, Rakmar turned on Rowan.

  “You’ve come to kill me yes?” he barked “Then try,” he smashed his sword into the ground inches from Rowan’s feet “Come on boy, strike me down.”

  Another violent swing came for the king. Rowan just managed to dodge out of the way.

  Rakmar raised his arms “Kill me, for your kingdom, for your people, for your father.”

  Rowan dived out of the way of another ferocious attack, he rolled, turned and sliced his sword upward. He cut a deep slash into Rakmar’s armoured chest but didn’t pierce it.

  “Pitiful.”

  A blast of darkness fired from Rakmar’s outstretched hand, it ploughed into Rowan’s chest sending him floundering backwards. He hit the soaking wet ground and immediately tore his smouldering breastplate off and threw it aside. The armour clanged on the ground, a giant hole sizzled with glowing embers. His blackened chainmail exposed Rowan got shakily to his feet holding his aching chest.

  “Why won’t you unleash your power? Don’t you want to avenge your father, boy?” Rakmar strode towards the king quickly. Rowan didn’t answer, the rage he felt towards Rakmar was written on his face.

  Suddenly the shadow stopped in his tracks. A sly leer rippled across his grey lips.

  “Perhaps you need different motivation.”

  Rowan heard the hurried splashing footsteps. He saw the horrible glint in Rakmar’s eyes
and before the young king could say a word the God spun around. Shaya leapt into the air, both hands gripping her sword. He grabbed her by the throat and held her at arm’s length as she struggled to breathe.

  “No. Get your hands off her.”

  “I’ll crush the life from her unless you stop me.”

  “Damn it. No, don’t do it, you monster.”

  Rakmar laughed “The very people you wish to save, your friends, your families have just sent two children to fight a battle they can’t possibly win. Children sent to their deaths,” he turned to Rowan with a devilish grin, “And you call me a monster.”

  Valour fell from Shaya’s grasp as she clawed desperately at Rakmar’s vice-like grip. Coughing and spluttering she gasped for air, her eyes darting wildly for an escape. Her vision began to blur as she felt the blood rush to her head. She couldn’t think, the paid and the panic were too much for her to bare. Her eyes stung, and her throat began to close.

  “Please,” Rowan begged, “Please let her go.”

  Rakmar squeezed, Shaya’s legs flailed helplessly.

  “You're letting her die, boy, you are killing her.”

  The young king stood staring hopelessly at Shaya’s desperate face.

  “I’ll do whatever you want, just let her go,” he pleaded.

  “You know what I want.”

  “Alright, alright,” Rowan closed his eyes, trying to block out the horrible gasping, choking sounds of his friend.

  Nothing, he felt nothing, other than panic. The trembling boy tried to clear his mind, but all Rowan could see was Shaya’s despairing eyes staring at him for help. He shook his head and looked up at the hulking monster.

  “Please,” his voice almost a whisper, tears pouring down his face “Don’t.”

  “Disappointing,” Rakmar grumbled.

  Shaya’s eyes widened, her quivering hand reached out for her friend.

  With one violent thrust, the shadow slid his sword through Shaya’s chest. It ripped out her back in a shower of crimson. Her beautiful blue eyes glazed over and her jaw went slack. Her desperate arms flopped to her sides, and her flailing legs went limp. She suddenly looked like a puppet that had its strings cut.

  Rowan screamed a long raw horrible scream that tore his throat and made it burn. He watched his friend skewered on the end of the enormous blade. The shadow held her up as a horrifying trophy, a proud expression on his hideously scarred face. His hollow eyes shifted to Rowan’s, the shadow grinned. With a swipe of his sword, he launched Shaya’s lifeless body across the island of rocks. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, her limbs floundered as she tumbled violently across the floor. She finally came to rest at Rowan’s feet. Dead.

  The sound of the metal sheering against bone seemed to echo in his head. His stomach twisted, his whole body turned to ice. The king took one shaking step and fell to his knees. He couldn’t feel the rain anymore or hear the thundering storm, all he felt was numb. He reached out, her fingers were already going cold.

  “Shaya,” he whimpered, his voice nothing more than a hoarse murmur “Get up,” he pleaded “Get up.”

  The young girl’s eyes stared past him, to the sky above, unblinking yet seeing nothing. She looked so different, so unlike herself. It was as if the very essence of what made her, her, had been stripped away, leaving an empty shell. The king tried to speak again. Nothing. Rowan’s heart seemed to shatter inside him, he lent over his friend and wept silently as the rain continued to pour.

  “You could have stopped me, boy,” came the grumbling taunt “Now your friend is dead, because of you.”

  Rowan tried not to listen, but the pain in his chest was tearing him apart, and as the monster spoke, the agony only swelled.

  “The King of Arrolyn lays weeping in the rain. Pathetic. Killing you will be a mercy to your people. No one should be ruled by someone so weak,” Rakmar began to walk towards the trembling king, blood-stained sword in hand.

  The realisation of his impending fate didn’t matter to the young boy. He didn’t care. Eyes bloodshot, face wet with tears and rain, he glared up at the approaching monster.

  First my father, now Shaya.

  His crippling sorrow quickly turned to burning rage. He could almost feel his blood begin to boil in his veins. His agonising heart began to pump faster and harder. He snatched his sword from the ground and stood to face his attacker. He brandished his blade, hands steady, eyes narrowed.

  “Are you finally ready?” Rakmar seemed impressed as he advanced “Ready to do what is necessary?”

  “I will not stop,” Rowan’s voice didn’t sound like his own, it was low, calm yet threatening and brimming with malice “I will kill you.”

  “To do that, you know what you have to do.”

  “Enough talk,” Rowan raced forward, taking Rakmar by surprise. He hacked furiously with his sword, a barrage of vicious blows. Rakmar lunged forward. Rowan dodged, rolled and grabbed Shaya’s Valour from a shallow pool. With a sword in each hand, Rowan swiped and slashed ferociously, pushing Rakmar backwards. The young king let out a roaring battle cry as he brought Valour down hard across Rakmar’s face. Before he could attack again, Rakmar blasted him with a bolt of shadow that caught him in the arm, sending Valour flying off and clattering to the ground. The monstrous beast then cut a hole across Rowan’s armoured stomach and blasted him one final time with his darkness.

  Rowan didn’t feel the pain when he hit the floor, just the wetness leaking out of his belly. He looked down, his armour was splattered with red. Stabbing his sword into the rock beneath him he used it as a crutch to help him up. On one knee, he clutched his wounded stomach, he could feel the warm blood trickling through his ice-cold fingers. Shaya lay ahead of Rowan, between him the shadow. She was so still, so empty.

  “You were foolish to come here dead king,” Rakmar stood watching the boy struggle, the rain sizzling as it hit his smoke like form. “You know you can’t win, but you continue to fight. I admire that, perhaps you’re not the spineless wretch I believed you to be.”

  “I don’t give a damn what you think of me,” spat Rowan as he staggered to his feet “I don’t need your admiration.”

  Rakmar scoffed “Insolent child, you should worship me as the God I am.”

  “You’re no God, you’re just a sulking child who’s angry at his mummy.”

  “How dare you,” Rakmar raged “You’ll die here today, like your friend, like your army below. Even if you could bring forth the light, once I finished with mother, I wouldn’t spare any of you.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?” Rowan shouted venomously, his eyes blazing. “You want my light? She is right there. The only light I’ve ever had lays dead at our feet.”

  The words came as a surprise to him. He looked down at Shaya’s lifeless body, and his shattered heart twisted horribly again, and he knew, his words were true. “She was my courage, she was my strength,” the boy’s lips quivered “She was my hope.”

  “Very touching dead king, but her light has been extinguished.”

  “No,” yelled Rowan “You’re wrong. Light like hers never goes out. It’s everlasting, eternal. It rests within the hearts of the people who loved her. It rests within me,” he placed his hand over his heart and closed his eyes, pushing back another flow of tears.

  When he opened them again, he saw that Rakmar was gawping at him, his mouth ajar. His dark eyes glinted, watching the boy in stunned silence. Rowan looked down, and his breath suddenly escaped him. A bright golden light emanated from his chest, a sudden warmth washed over him as his whole body tingled.

  “Could it be?” Rakmar’s astounded whisper trailed off as he watched.

  The light was blinding, it swirled around the young boy’s heart like a golden whirlpool. Rowan let out a quiet chuckle through the tears that once again began to fall.

  “Mother,” Rakmar growled, a hideous grin crept across his face. He stretched out his hand and a second sword materialised from the darkness. The black shadows th
at enveloped him started to smoulder. Red and yellow flecks of embers began to rise from his twisted form. Now, with a great blade in each hand, the monster made his way towards Rowan again, his black eyes fixed on the boy’s heart.

  Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the light vanished. Rowan’s heart sank. He looked around. Nothing. There was nothing but the barren rocks and the pillar-like shards of black. He opened his mouth to speak, then it happened. With a deafening sound like a lightning bolt, the black clouds above exploded. They burst open, and a massive beam of golden light ripped through the darkness. With a tremendous force, the shaft of gold smashed into the ground between Rowan and Rakmar, right into Shaya’s body. Rowan was knocked off his feet by the blast, a blinding flash robbed him of his sight.

  Rowan knew he had hit the ground, he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, he just didn’t know where he was. All the boy could see was whiteness. The warm tingling feeling was gone, now he was cold and wet, his body ached. He rubbed his eyes and blinked repeatedly. Then the light began to fade, once it did, he didn’t believe what he saw.

  Shaya’s body was suspended in mid-air, her head hung down, her eyes closed. Her whole body was completely enveloped by a golden light. Rowan was lost for words, he just stared at his friend in tearful astonishment. The rain had stopped. It hadn’t stopped raining, but the raindrops had frozen in mid-air. The ground where Shaya’s body had been, was cracked. Small chunks of rocks floated in the air, lightly knocking into each other. Rakmar was stunned into silence as well.

  “Shaya?” Rowan’s voice quivered.

  The gaping wound on her back began to glow. Two shafts of gold fired out and formed two glorious shimmering wings. The feathers glistened like diamonds in the darkness.

  “Shaya,” Rowan repeated louder.