The New Age Saga Box Set

by Timothy A. Ray

  “They close in, if we don’t hurry, we won’t reach the top,” he told her over his shoulder, making it clear that he’d slow down for no one.

  “But how are they closing in? They can’t possibly be keeping up with you?” Kylee interjected. Her voice was weary, and Willow knew her sister was barely hanging on. She was grateful for the rope tied around her waist but didn’t want to fall and be drug loosely up the cliff side either.

  “Goblins,” Kore answered for the ascending shapeshifter. Was that supposed to mean something?

  Trek huffed as he filled in the blanks. “Goblins are made for the mountains. They can scurry up it like roaches on a buffet. That’s probably why the Phoenix sent them instead of the orcs.”

  Kore grunted but didn’t argue against the shapeshifter’s statement.

  “That may be, but if we don’t stop soon, we’ll be too tired to fight—regardless,” she responded, already beyond exhausted.

  “Then it’s a good thing we’re here,” Trek blurted as he made one final lunge that flew them over the side of a cliff and into the grassy clearing above. Her heart leapt in her throat with fear, but when they landed safely in the long-frosted grass, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Rain was pelting them, winds buffeted their weary bodies, and the air had grown so thin that every breath felt strained. Kylee was busy undoing her knot, but she couldn’t work her swollen hands well enough to do the same. Her sister got frustrated and slid free one of her long knives and began cutting them loose.

  Kore flopped onto the ground with a loud crunch and lay on his back; chest heaving. “Kore tired.”

  “You’re tired? I just carried your heavy ass,” Trek purred, a cat slipping through the grass and going to the cliff’s edge. “Torches below, we don’t have much time. We should hide in that shack.”

  “Kore no hide,” the orc managed between breaths.

  “Then you’ll die. Maybe I should have left you below, you could have taken some with you before you went,” Trek snapped back.

  Kylee was crouching by the ledge, bow in hand. Reaching back to her quiver, she began to draw arrows as swiftly as she was firing them. Her keen eyes searched for targets, her words of magic guiding her aim.

  She wished she could do something to help, but her magic was more of a defensive nature, meant to heal not wage war. She reached down and grasped the amulet hanging around her neck and whispered “renovare.” Instantly, she felt her energy replenish and saw the orc’s breathing stabilize.

  Kylee’s arm steadied, and her shots became more accurate, a grateful smile forming on the woman’s face as she kept firing her endless barrage upon the enemy. “Thanks,” her sister commented over her shoulder, another arrow flying.

  Kore rose and went to the ranger’s side, arm up to shield against the rain. He released his battle axe from the bindings on his back and brought his weapon to bear. “Goblins here soon.”

  Renewed, she got to her feet and studied the clearing they were standing in. There was nothing other than grass and that small structure to the rear. Where were Tristan and Merlin? Was this their destination? Were they hiding somewhere in that shack? She tried to call out for them, but her voice was lost on the wind.

  The sound of conflict drew her attention and she watched in horror as the first of their pursuers began scrambling over the cliff’s edge. Kore’s axe came down and severed the arms of one of the creatures. It screamed in fury as it fell backwards; disappearing into the void. Unhooking her shield from her back, she strapped it to her arm and undid the clamp on her mace. Gripping the weapon firmly, she stepped forward to join the others in battle.

  II

  The first two days of John’s reign had been chaotic, and he’d had very little time to adjust to his new responsibilities. They had burned his father’s body in accordance to their beliefs and considering the reports he was getting from their patrols, a lot more would be burnt before the week was out.

  He had tried to picture the last dinner he’d had with his family and couldn’t believe it had only been three days since they’d all laughed and dined together. Now, more than half of them were gone. His father was dead, his brother missing, and the pleasant life he’d enjoyed smashed to pieces; never to be put back together.

  The previous day had been exhausting, as signs of smoke to the north signaled the imminent arrival of the enemy army. Goblins had been let loose upon the land and harried farmers fled before them; seeking shelter with the fortress’s walls. His soldiers snatched what they could from the city lying before the outer wall; gathering supplies they would need for the siege to come. The army assisted the civilian population with their evacuation, then torched their homes to provide less shelter for the invading hordes.

  Any merchants or townsfolk refusing to enter the castle walls had been ordered to flee. The drawbridge had been raised; the torches on the battlements lit, and he prayed the people were clear of the surrounding countryside, he’d fear what would happen to them had they chosen to stay behind. His generals worried about how long they’d survive a siege with the amount of population versus food stores, but he didn’t think that it was a real concern. Goblins were not known for their patience; the battle for Lancaster would end quickly either way.

  General Bendor, the stout and overweight dwarf in charge of his forces, wanted to send scouts to assess the size of the enemy army. John had refused to sacrifice their lives needlessly; the numbers would not affect their defenses and they’d know soon enough how large the army was; he needed every man they had. The army had been training for months, but their numbers would still be dwarfed by the approaching forces.

  He entered his father’s study, alone with his thoughts for the first time since his coronation. A fire crackled in the fireplace, a soothing sound compared to the hustle of the palace. Maps were strewn across the table in the center of the room, right where his father had left them; fresh grief surfacing as he recalled their last night together. He glanced at them, but he had most of them memorized and his mind felt too overworked to look at them again. His eyes settled on a parchment that showed the layout of the fortress grounds; paperweights marking where the defenses were being reinforced.

  He sighed; they wouldn’t be done in time.

  Filled with anguish, he sat in the chair in front of the fireplace, letting his pain flow into the flames. There was a knock on the door and he swore under his breath; never a moment’s peace. He tried to ignore it, but privacy was the one luxury he could not afford. “Come!” he hollered, then gave a heavy sigh of regret.

  The door creaked open and Clint eased through the doorway. “Sire, one of the Guardians that left with your brother has returned.”

  Sitting up, he pushed he grief aside and faced his aide. “Is he with you?”

  The man at the doorway stood stiff, holding the wooden door firmly in his grasp. He looked like he’d be caught unawares and was trying to think something through. “Yes, Sire,” Clint finally muttered.

  “Show him in, then leave us,” he commanded, eager to get news of his brother’s whereabouts.

  “Are you sure that’s wise?” Clint pushed. “This man was in the company of your father’s assassin. Surely you don’t want to be left with him alone. It’d be better if he was thrown in the dungeons and interrogated for information. There’s been too many attempts on your House to allow a suspected villain anywhere near you. Maybe I—.”

  He glared at his aide, “are you questioning my orders?”

  Clint’s eyes never left his sovereign’s face, but his lead lowered a bit in response. “I was just looking out for your safety, Sire. As is my duty.”

  “I’m quite sure he’s been relieved of his weapons and I’m hardly unarmed myself. Your worry is unjustified. Show him in and get out,” he snapped.

  His aide bowed and disappeared.

  An elf entered the study, still in uniform, face flushed. He nodded in recognition of the king’s station and awaited the order to speak.

  “S
it, Guardian, tell me your name,” he commanded.

  “It’s Windel, Sire,” the elf reported, then sat in the seat opposite his king.

  He sat down and stared at the thin bodyguard. “How’s my brother?”

  “I’m here on his orders, Sire,” Windel bowed his head.

  “His orders?” he began, turning to stare at the fire. “Not the orders of your captain, obviously, who you did not inform of your departure. Not of your former king either, who was killed shortly after you left. And what of mine, the heir to the throne and now the King of Lancaster, are they nothing to you as well? You are here—on my brother’s orders?”

  Windel lowered his gaze, not out of shame, but patience. “Sire, if you’d let me explain.”

  “Oh, by all means. Explain to me why my brother and his girlfriend ran off without a word? Why they are traveling with this magician, who was seen with my father shortly before his death? Tell me, are you going to give me some fantastic story that clears their names?” he spat, his anger getting the better of him. “Tell me why I shouldn’t call the guards, and have you hanged from the outer walls for your actions?”

  “My Lord, I’ll let your father do that,” the elf told him calmly, taking a scroll from the pouch around his waist, and handing it over.

  He was at a loss for words; his mind gone blank. He reached out and accepted the offered scroll. It bore his father’s seal, unbroken, and he felt uneasy touching it. He rolled it around in his hand, studying it, almost afraid to read its contents. There was a bit of blood on its edges and he instantly felt worry for his brother’s safety. Though, how did he know for sure that this wasn’t some ploy, some enemy trick magicked up by his father’s assassin? Yet—his mind kept returning to that unbroken seal. The elf was confident that it was genuine, and he was hard pressed to prove it false.

  He broke the wax binding, unrolled it, and by firelight read his father’s last words.

  My Son,

  I know that you disagreed with my decision for your departure. As long as the Phoenix’s agents are running free within the palace your life is in danger. If the assassination attempt on your life was any sign of my lack of judgment and security, then I don’t know what else is.

  I wish that I had time to root it out myself but after talking with my old confidant, I realize the sacrifice that must be given for love. For I do love you, never forget that. Don’t worry about me, I have lived a full life and I go to my death proud of both my sons. Your mother awaits me, and I’ve found that I’m eager to see her once more.

  Do not worry about your brother. By the morning, I will have explained your absence and he will be forced to understand the reasoning. He will root out the evil within our house and make it possible for you to return, do not doubt it. He is every bit the man that I hoped him to be. I know that he will carry on and lead our people to victory, for that’s what he was born to do.

  I wish I could be there to see you on your wedding day. I hope that my gifts are adequate and tell your fiancé that I’ve always loved her as a daughter. May God shine down upon you both and give you the happiness in life that I have so greedily wasted and rarely enjoyed in mine.

  Godspeed, my Son. Find Excalibur, return it to its heir, and end the evil of the Phoenix once and for all. I believe in you, now it’s time for you to believe as well.

  With love,

  Your Father

  Tears had filled his eyes and it was hard to speak. His father had known he was going to die, he’d forced Tristan to leave, and he’d given them his blessing. It flew in the face of everything that he had been told; that he had come to believe. “My brother?” he finally managed, wiping his face, fingering the bloodied edges.

  “He’s fine. Willow got hurt in a brief battle with goblins, but she healed herself. When I left, he was thinking only of your safety and that of his people. We were encamped on the summit of Saspe’s Peak and they were to spend yesterday climbing its heights,” the Guardian answered frankly.

  He held the scroll up, rolled once more, and twirled it delicately around his fingers. “My father knew that you were leaving?”

  “Sire, I witnessed the conversation between the king, Merlin, Willow, and Tristan. Your brother argued against leaving but your father was insistent and forced the issue. There is a traitor here in the castle, and it was believed that only the mage could protect him from the Phoenix’s wrath,” Windel told him confidently. “For their safety, he ordered that they leave as quietly as possible, as to not arouse the suspicion of the cloaked enemies in our midst.”

  “I don’t get it; how did you overhear this conversation?” he asked the elf. “I was told that only four people were in that room while the mage was here.”

  The elf nodded, “yes Sire, if I may?” Windel stepped over to the portrait of his father that hung over the fireplace. He then placed his hands on the stones and with a shift of his finger, there came a grinding noise from John’s left. A doorway had appeared in the center of the wall where no door had ever stood. It was camouflaged by the surrounding texture of the wall and had the Guardian not opened it, he would have never known it was there.

  “What the hell?” Shocked, he lunged to his feet and stared at it with widened eyes.

  “That’s how we maintain your security throughout the palace, Sire,” Windel responded.

  He stepped over to the passageway and looked into the darkness beyond. Someone had been there recently, he could detect the smell of sweat on the dank air. “This runs through the entire palace?” he asked the Guardian, already guessing the answer. This was how the assassin had gotten into his father’s room and poisoned his father. That’s how they bypassed the guards, unseen. “Who else knows about this?”

  “That’s what I’m here to tell you, Sire. Your brother believes that Clint is the Phoenix’s agent,” Windel returned.

  “Clint? That’s impossible. I’ve known the man for ten years,” he protested. It was true that he never liked the overzealous aide, but a traitor? An agent of the Phoenix? He had taken care of the royal family for over a decade, nursed his mother and father through their illnesses—

  Windel nodded his head as if he knew where his king’s thoughts were leading. “Your brother believes that he first poisoned your mother, then began working on your father as well. With the failed assassination of Tristan and his departure, he killed the already dying king. If left to his devices, surely you would fall next. Then, my Lord, who will lead Lancaster in the dark days ahead?”

  Clint would lead provisionally as Steward of Lancaster, until his son came of age or Tristan was cleared of wrong-doing and returned home. The evidence he held in his hand went against every word his aide had told him. His anger at his brother’s absence had been inflamed by the man. The whole time, he’d been in the company of the assassin that had killed his parents. Incensed, he rounded on the study door. “Guards!”

  No one answered.

  “If what you say is true, then you are now my Chief Advisor. You will act accordingly,” he told the elf firmly. Then he stomped over to the study’s door and threw it wide. The guards that had been assigned for his protection were gone. Who else but Clint could have ordered them away? Captain Reyes would never—

  Windel pushed past and ran down the hallway, calling to his fellow Guardians. One rounded the corner in a hurry, and the elf almost ran him down. He started interrogating the man, but by then his king was there and grabbed the stricken Guardian by his tunic. “Send word now, no one is to leave this castle. No one, without my express permission.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” the stunned man replied, then retreated down the hall.

  The elf looked back at the king. “Sire, it may already be too late. If he left as soon as you dismissed him, then he has a huge head start.”

  Impatient, he strode past him. After a few steps, he stopped and turned. “Are there any of these secret passageways that lead out of castle grounds?”

  Windel was silent, thinking, then dread came across the aid
e’s face. “Yes Sire, in the dungeons there’s a passageway that leads to Crystal Cove. It’s for the evacuation of the royal family in case the castle’s walls should fall.”

  The enemy army was pounding at their door, it was possible that they could send forces south to the lake. If they had an agent in the castle, they could sneak in during the night, and Lancaster would be in flames before the sun rose to light the butchering of his people. “Call the men to arms, we may yet see battle this night!” he yelled at his new aide as he ran for his chambers to get his sword.

  When he emerged minutes later, there were three knights and thirteen Guardians awaiting his command. Windel stepped to his side. “As you commanded, Sire. It was the best I could do at a moment’s notice.”

  “It will have to do,” he growled. “We must reach the dungeons swiftly; pray we are not too late!” Leading the group, he ran for the stairs. His sword held eagerly at his side, he looked to his new elven aide and sneered. “If we catch him in time, he’s mine.”

  III

  “I’ve been in charge of its keeping for two thousand years and now you want to just walk out of here with it?” Melissa asked incredulously.

  “Yes, that is exactly what I plan to do. I have no time to argue. Time—,” Merlin broke off. He turned and looked back the way they’d came. Then he was across the room and through the door.

  Startled, it took a minute to dawn on him that Merlin had just fled. Serix was hurrying to follow after and Tristan rushed to catch up. A small voice yelled after him about manners, but he ignored it, trying to find out what was going on. Flying through the cave and back into the shack, he was surprised to find the mage already gone. Confused, he plunged through the doorway and into the chaos beyond.

  His eyes did not have time to adjust and he was partially blinded by the morning sun cresting over the horizon. Something hit his leg and he pitched forward onto a pile of corpses. There was a flash of blue light searing across the clearing and a flash of green from his rear. Screams and the sounds of battle bombarded him. He forced himself to his feet and tried to make sense of what he was seeing.