The New Age Saga Box Set

by Timothy A. Ray

  The beast from hell was covered in black platemail, its cloak flowing greedily around it. He could see the creature’s snout and knew that it had formerly been a jackyl. The scythe was held at an angle and had not moved as they approached. The creature had remained a silent sentinel, blocking their path. I’m not here to fight you Ageless Stranger, a cold voice whispered within his head.

  He hadn’t even felt the creature’s attempts to enter his mind and it staggered him that his defenses had been so easily penetrated. “Then why are you here?” he asked, not daring to let his own mind touch the other’s.

  He thought he saw a grim smile crease the creature’s face. Wise decision. You would not like it in here. The souls of the dead and dying call to me, I cannot remain much longer.

  Kore was weary on his feet, his axe dropping a bit. “Kore, go get your armor,” he told the exhausted warrior. Red eyes turned and glared at him, the defiance loud and clear. “I’ll be all right, I think. Just go get your armor. And take your time, no need to rush.”

  As the other figure had yet to make an aggressive move, the orc finally relented and trudged away, dragging his axe.

  Death turned and looked east, cold white eyes searching the horizon. Your servant has called upon the dead to walk, my Master heeded his call. There are more souls that require my attention, my time is short.

  “Why are you here? You are one of the Phoenix’s Horsemen, why do you not attack?” he asked, curiously. He drifted closer to the opposing figure, wanting to see the white furred beast more clearly, yet making sure that he stayed out of range of the slithering cloak that had begun to reach for him.

  When she changed what this creature was, she ripped me from my plane and shoved me into this fleshly prison. You do not create Death. I am timeless, I am forever. She is powerful, but not enough to make me do her bidding. You and I know that I cannot kill you, but I will collect you eventually, a very long time from now. Yet, in the end, you will die as intended, for no one cheats death. You are painfully aware of the consequences of trying to do so, the cloaked figure said, turning his gaze upon him.

  A cold chill wracked his body. He was referring to Tristan and his father. Yes, he had known the consequences. True understanding dawned on him, the Reaper’s words finally unveiled. When the Phoenix had cast her spell, she had ripped the fabric between the spirit and flesh, capturing and imprisoning the actual Grim Reaper; Death, now in the flesh. This wasn’t just a facsimile; he was the real thing.

  “What do you want of me?” he asked in awe.

  You were born as you are, despite your assertions that your father cursed you to this existence. You did not fade from your mother’s arms because Damon wished it, but because you could not move forward in time, your demon biology asserting itself and pushing you backwards. It was a surprise to your father as well when you appeared in his arms. The spell he weaved was not a curse, but a blessing. He gave you the ability to see your future, the world’s past, so that you wouldn’t be a blithering idiot lost in time. Despite his origins, he was your father and his one act of love was to give you a future.

  Merlin processed what he was being told. He had never considered— “That doesn’t tell me why you’re here.” He knew he shouldn’t be so pushy, that the creature before him could decide to kill him after all, and there’d be nothing he could do about it; he just couldn’t help it.

  The Phoenix is an abomination, a creature that should not exist. The sisters were supposed to cut her twine two thousand years ago, her life protected by the evil book in her possession. My Master grows impatient. He asked me to speak with you and to provide you with a gift, the Reaper said, moving forward for the first time.

  He reflexively took a few steps back.

  Do not fear, Death smirked, his teeth glittering in the moonlight. A hand rose, and a sword came into view. This is the key of which you seek.

  Merlin stepped forward and accepted the offered weapon. The scabbard was covered in diamonds, dirt encrusting the runes engraved upon it. The hilt was old and cracked, his hand feeling the sand ingrained into the damaged leather. He backed away, eyes focused on the blade as he slowly slid it free of its scabbard. The ground shook slightly below his feet as the polished steel glinted in the moonlight.

  Richter.

  The shaking had increased, and he heard his companion behind him fall to the sand, the armor clanking as it impacted the ground. He slid the blade back into its scabbard and it immediately stopped. “Thank you,” he told the Reaper; not sure what else to say.

  You would never have found it. She had it placed under the pyramid’s foundations to prevent it from ever being discovered. That is why you missed it the last time you were here. Now, I must be going, souls are lingering, and I must see them to Charon for their final journey. His boats are heavily filled these days and the work unending. My Master wishes you luck and has ordered me to tell you that a friend will meet you in the morning. He offers this deer carcass as a gift of his appreciation, Death whispered to him, then was gone; as if he’d never existed.

  On the sand, behind where the Reaper had been standing, was a dead stag.

  Sword in hand, he looked to the east, silently sending a prayer of thanks to Hades for his assistance. They’d always worked at cross purposes, but it seems that now they had a common interest that briefly united their efforts; the death of the Phoenix. He didn’t truly understand why the Dark God would want to stop her, other than anger over the woman’s continued existence. Maybe he saw it as a threat to his own? Who truly knew how a God thought? What his motivations were?

  He sighed. It did not matter what Hades’ true motives were, only that Merlin had what he had come for, and now they could leave. He wondered briefly what “friend” would be meeting them, but he was too exhausted to work it out.

  “Come on Kore, let’s get some food on our stomachs,” he told his weary companion. The orc had just made it back to his side, and the strain on the tanned green face was hard not to wince at.

  They moved over to where the dead stag lay, surprised to find it already cleaned, and only needing to be skinned. Kore snatched a long knife from his belt and went to work, while Merlin set about summoning them some water. They would need some wood and he looked at the pyramid towering overhead; he knew where he could find some.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told Kore, who only nodded as he continued his work.

  Two Sphinxes guarded the pyramid’s entrance, having been moved there from the Phoenix’s fortress when the monument had been completed. He had created them to watch over the Book of the Dead; a purpose they had faithfully served for a thousand years before finally failing and letting a young girl named Rachel Emerick through. Now, weakened, they held silent vigil over the Phoenix’s tomb, reluctantly serving to protect the pyramid from raiders.

  Welcome Merlin, their ancient voices greeted.

  He nodded at them and made his way inside.

  V

  His bladder was interrupting his sleep and he opened his eyes to the night sky. The moon had begun to shrink yet was still full enough to cast a strong white light upon the world. He felt Willow’s even breathing next to him as he rolled over, struggling to free his mind enough to get to his feet.

  Glancing over, he felt a pair of eyes on him and met Melissa’s stare. She was sitting in front of a barely lit fire, watching his every move. “Where’s Reyna and Jared?” he asked sleepily as he crossed before her, intent on his purpose, yet noticing their absence.

  “Went for more firewood. They should’ve been back by now,” she answered, looking east. Well, if they’d gone that way—he stepped towards the western part of their camp and entered its shadows.

  As he finished relieving himself, he looked at the stars and wondered how his brother was doing. Was he even still alive?

  The Earth began to shake beneath his feet. He rushed back towards the camp and heard the familiar sound of thundering hoofs coming their way. “What—?”

  Melissa was
on her feet as well and had begun to turn when the first of the horsemen swept into their camp. Green fire enveloped her hands and she was about to send her magic forth when a pommel came down and struck her in the head.

  He dashed for his sword, which he’d left next to his bedroll, but several other riders rode forth and cut him off. He could see Willow getting to her feet between flashes of movement, and panic set in.

  “Take them!” a voice ordered from behind the riders. The man that had attacked Melissa had reeled about and was hovering behind him.

  “Whit th’ heel is thes?” he heard the gruff voice of the dwarf ask. Sounds of a scuffle came from the direction of Token’s voice and he despaired over the silence that followed.

  “How dare you?” he wheeled on the commander behind him. “I am—.”

  “I don’t give a damn who you are. You are trespassing, and stand accused of being enemy spies. Wrap them up,” the man ordered his men. Several had dismounted and were approaching his position. Willow had been hoisted onto a horse and appeared to be unconscious, her limp body being tied down like she was a saddlebag. Melissa was being taken as well.

  Though he resisted, he was quickly overpowered. He fought them off, but being unarmed, his fist barely made a difference against his armored foes.

  As he felt his hands bound, he looked to the left and saw another horse with the limp form of their ranger lying across its back. How did they get the drop on her? He thought of calling out to Reyna and Jared, but if they were out there, they were their only hope of being rescued, and he didn’t dare alert these villains to their presence.

  A hand flashed in a downward angle and a sword slammed him across the head, knocking him out.

  Chapter 21

  Kershaw

  I

  Three days had passed since the bodies had fallen from the sky and John stood at the tower window, examining the enemy encampment in the distance. “Why do they wait?”

  His generals sat on benches around the table behind him, eyes on the model; discussions with Tar Reiz and Bordin over troop placements occupying their time. They’d all been shaken the other night, though none of them would admit it. The horror that he’d seen on his father-in-law’s face when they explained what Serix had put in motion before dinner, mirrored his own soul. Yet, neither had been able to argue its use, especially after the grim affair that followed.

  The bodies had been collected, the pieces reassembled and the pyres lit. They had suffered horribly, but he made sure that they got the funerals their heroic efforts deserved.

  Bendor turned to look at him. “They ken we’ve got reinforcements an' their supply lines waur interrupted. Laddie, they’re probably lickin' their woonds an' searchin' fur scran.”

  “They still outnumber us three-to-one. And after the other night—well, I’d thought they’d be eager to exact their vengeance,” he replied, breaking from the window and coming to join the others at the table.

  “They already did,” Bordin said gravely, reminding him of the torn bodies that had rained upon the castle. The people were subdued, the short victory they’d enjoyed, ruined by the horrors of seeing their countrymen’s corpses being treated in that way.

  He stared at the placement of the enemy forces; the scouts giving hourly reports and updates of troop movements. “They’re rebuilding their siege engines,” Roland told him, nodding to the enemy movements to the forests on the east and west sides of the castle. It was inevitable, really. Now that they couldn’t rely on numbers alone, they would try to break through their walls before mounting another assault.

  “We should march out there and take the fight to them,” he stated, feeling emboldened by the reinforcements they’d received.

  Tar Reiz was nodding, but the others didn’t look convinced.

  “Laddie, nae offense, an' I’m sure 'at yer heart is in th' reit place, but it’s a bampot tae forsake uir a body advantage an' meit these vermin oan open grin. Withit th' walls tae protect us, we’ll be overrin an' decimated,” Bendor told him firmly, then turned as if dismissing him.

  “I’m not your lad, I am your King,” he told the general, and the others in the room nervously shifted, but stayed quiet.

  “Aye, ye ur,” Bendor gruffly admitted. “An' a new a body at 'at. Ye hae th' leest amoont ay military experience ay aw ay us haur. Most ay us waur bleedin' frae battle woonds lang afair ye waur a glint in yer pappy’s yak. Wa nae lit those 'at hae survived those distant wars an' ken whit we’re daein' dae th' strategizin' an' be canty enaw tae be included in th' conversation?”

  Never before had the dwarven general spoken to him with such disrespect. What had he done to earn it? What had put the stout man in such a foul mood? Well, cranky or not, he could not abide it any further.

  “General Bendor Firefist, I am your sovereign. You were asked to maintain your post after my father’s death in deference to your station and experience, but that does not give you the right to speak to me that way,” he growled, pushing back his shoulders and formally addressing his general.

  “Son,” Bordin began, stepping forward, but stopped when John turned and glared at him. The elder elf remained where he was, eyes flickering between them.

  This was embarrassing, being questioned by the dwarf in front of these others, and the old general had to know that. He felt the anger rise and he barely held it in check.

  Bendor rose to his feet, eyes leveled as he balanced on his bench. “Ah ken huir uv a weel 'at ye ur mah Kin', an' if yah wish tae dismiss me, 'en dae it. But Ah won’t lit yer yoothful inexperience leid tae th' needless destruction ay uir men. Walls ur built fur a reason, tae protect us frae them. 'At is th' point ay a castle, tae withstain, tae hauld. It takes patience. Yer eager min' seeks tae end thes quickly, yit mine tells me tae bide, tae bide th' coorse an' see thes ben. Thaur can be nae easy victory, nae rush tae th' finish. Th' entire kingdom depends oan us an' aw it takes is a body a bampot act tae destroy us aw.”

  “Those invaders do not fight for glory. They do not fight with honor. They are driven here with whips upon their backs and that makes them less dangerous than a young boy with a wooden stick. They rely on their numbers to overwhelm, but in single combat, they could be bested by a commoner with a pitchfork,” he stormed back, hands clenching. “We have eleven thousand soldiers now, yet we beat them off with five. I do not think riding out there and taking the fight to them is as hopeless as you make it out to be. Hit them hard, scatter their forces, and once they start running, no whips will be able to make them stop!”

  Bendor was shaking his head. “An’ if we fail?”

  The others were looking to him now, eyes searching his reaction to determine for themselves if this was the right course of action. He met them unflinching, showing his resolve.

  He calmed down and looked at Bendor once more. “I know that you think I’m young and inexperienced, but what I know I’ve learned from the best military minds my father could bring me. You, Roland, Mark, Brigette,” he said, nodding to each in turn, “and what I’ve gained from each of you is a fire that burns brightly within my heart. That tells me that we can win, against all odds. I do not fear failure, for how can we lose when I have such strong courageous people by my side?”

  “Our supplies are limited and now we have even more mouths to feed. Even with the extra supplies Bordin brought with him and rationing, we can’t sustain them all for very long. We have forced the enemy to pull back, to forage for food and rebuild their siege engines. We must hit them while they’re unsteady, while they’re not expecting it. If we wait for them to collect themselves, then we’ll never have this chance again.”

  “I say assemble every man we have and hit them hard, hit them now,” his voice rose, hand pounding the table. He was no longer talking to the dwarf, but the others in the room as well. “Will you ride with me?”

  II

  They stared at the ruins of Alamar in the distance and the slight bit of hope she’d been holding onto sizzled from existence. They had not b
een fast enough. The enemy held the wall and fortress beyond, and the tracks that they’d been following lead right through their lines. She had twenty knights with her, there was no way they’d be able to pursue her daughter’s kidnappers any longer.

  “My Queen, we must not tarry, enemy scouts can be upon us at any time,” Pendoran said from her side and the grief within her heart renewed.

  She’d lost her daughter.

  They had passed several burnt villages on the way and their supplies were running thin. As she helped herself to a small drink from her canteen, she wearily acknowledged that she’d heard the knight, yet her heart yearned for her to keep going; to find a way. Yet, even if she had the might of the entire Elven Nation behind her, they would not be able to storm the Deadlands after her. There were just too many of those vile creatures for the elves to take on alone. A tear came to her eye. She was forced to pull on her horse’s reins and admit defeat.

  “Whatever they have planned, it wasn’t to kill her, or they would have done so already,” Pendoran tried to comfort her, but it fell on deaf ears.

  After all, there were worse things than death.

  The commander ordered their retreat and the other knights gravely nodded their heads. They were just as concerned with getting her daughter back as she was, and this had dealt a mighty blow to their hearts.

  “I’ve lost her,” she whispered softly and felt the certainty lock in place.

  “Let’s get home and inform the king. He will rouse the nation and call upon the other races to join us, then we will return, and nothing will keep us from taking her back,” Pendoran told her, sounding as if he actually believed it.

  She nodded but couldn’t help but despair. The races were too divided, too spread out across the lands. They’d each worry about their own borders and not the life of her little girl. There was very little that Erik would be able to do.