War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  Holland laughed as he entered through the stone walls and saw three of his commanders standing atop a wooden table, laughing, chugging beer, and singing loudly. There were women–most likely whores as gifts from the King–stumbling around, their bare breasts exposed, and at least two hands of soldiers on their asses.

  “Brother!” the familiar sound of Alvi echoed through the courtyard, and Holland laughed, opening his arms wide and hugging him tightly. “You have come to drink with your men.”

  Holland smiled as he took a mug from Alvi, hopping to the side as another soldier ran through chasing a young, blonde maiden, not much older than Holland. He looked at Alvi and roared with laughter, clinking his glass with his. He finally felt like he was at home with his men.

  ***

  The last remnants of the party were extinguished just as the light from the not-yet-risen sun was coloring the sky. Holland had only had a few that night, and he walked through the courtyard, kicking men awake as he readied himself for their departure. The king would want to get an early start, and he knew his men better be ready. The other shifters had already transformed, allowing their dragon blood to heal any remnants of a hangover.

  Ardontis stood on the balcony of the throne room, looking out over the garden, his face expressionless. He nodded his head at Holland as he climbed the stairs. Holland glanced over at where the Wild were staying and noticed they were all where they were supposed to be. Whatever they had done last night, they had returned quietly before the sun lightened the sky.

  “Morning, Commander,” Ardontis spoke. “The king is…let’s just say, recovering. He will be out shortly. I believe the princess is inside the sanctuary. She may be waiting for your arrival.”

  Holland looked down at the Faith as he raised his eyebrows and walked down the stairs and out into the garden. He walked into the empty throne room and peered around; it looked strikingly different without guards. Slowly, he entered the sanctuary and stood quietly as Leonetta finished lighting the candles at the altar.

  “I thought fae weren’t followers of the gods,” Holland said as she turned around and lifted the veil from her face.

  “They aren’t,” she replied. “But I find the sanctuary comforting.”

  “Ardontis,” Holland said, trying not to allow his emotions to crowd his mind. “He told me you waited for me here. How can I be of service?”

  Leonetta placed the burned-out match on the plate by the altar and peered at the open sanctuary door. When she felt it safe to move closer, she walked toward Holland, reaching into a satchel tied to the thin, adorned rope around her waist. She pulled a small, blue stone out and pulled Holland’s hand close to her.

  “This is as it was before–to protect you,” she whispered. “But I must ask a favor of you.”

  “Anything,” Holland replied, overtaken by the touch of her hand.

  “The king of Gillian was a great friend of my grandfather, may he rest in peace,” she whispered closely into his ear. “Be swift in his death. Don’t allow him to suffer. Carry his head back to the kingdom in this golden bag. It is customary and only right for one of the kings of the seven realms.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” he replied, goosebumps shooting up the back of his neck.

  “And come back to me,” she said, pressing her lips against his cheek before swiftly moving back and out of the sanctuary.

  Holland stood there for a moment, staring at the flickering lights and large, golden statue. He clutched the stone she gave him in his hand before placing it securely in a pouch on his belt. The ominous way the light hit the crown sent chills down Holland’s spine, and he turned and walked out into the sun. For a moment, he stood watching the soldiers gather in ranks in preparation to be flown to the site they would begin their attack from. There would be no rest once they arrived, as the Gillian army would spot them right away.

  The king mounted Alvis, a shifter, and Holland nodded in his direction before taking the stairs and turning into his gleaming, orange beast. He tromped toward the field where the Wild were waiting patiently and stopped momentarily as he noticed glowing blue orbs etched into each one’s forehead. It was a blessing from the fae, Leonetta no doubt had orchestrated it. Holland glanced nervously toward the king, but he hadn’t seemed to notice, too preoccupied with the way his shield sat at his side and the ribbons from his noble armor flew behind him. If Holland didn’t know the king, he would think he were a valiant knight, slayer of evil. But that, he knew, wasn’t the case.

  As the dragons began to lift off and hover above, Holland looked down to see Leonetta standing below, her dress and hair blowing wildly around her. A blue glow emanated from the palm of her hand, and Holland could hear the low whisper of a fae melody running through his head. It seemed everyone could hear it, and as the dragons moved forward in flight, battle cries echoed across the fields.

  The sounds of fae melodies drifted into the background, and a feeling of uneasiness shifted into Holland’s stomach. The trees passed quickly below him, and with the speed they kept, they would be nearing their spot to camp by evening light. The next day would bring the beginning of the war. It wasn’t often that Holland was able to fly alone anymore, and he took the opportunity to map out the homes below him. He flew over one dusty field to another before quickly realizing he hadn’t seen one human on the ground yet.

  Usually, by now, the plows were going and, even though crops were few and far between, the people would be at least attempting to make enough to pay their taxes. Maybe with the storm brewing over the ocean, they decided to stay inside today. However, not a single person in sight struck Holland as odd. The closer they got to Gillian, the scarcer the homes became until nothing but half-dead trees and remnants of once-flowering fields flew by beneath him.

  By evening light, Holland could see the mapped-out camping area in a clearing among the dying forest below. He slowly began to make a descent toward the trees when something caught his eye. A burning arrow shot past him, nearly clipping his wing. He looked back as the other dragons dodged out of the way. He called out to the troops to prepare and swooped around ahead to see where the arrow had come from. Just beyond the clearing stood nearly a thousand Gillian soldiers, standing ready and aiming their arrows at the group. They had known they would be coming, but how they knew where to find them was concerning.

  Break ranks! Separate, land, and prepare for battle! Holland shouted out to everyone in flight. He watched as the ranks split but curved to the left as Alvis, carrying the king, sped past him straight ahead.

  Alvis! Break ranks! You are heading right into the center!

  He seemed to be ignoring Holland’s commands, so Holland sped up and chased after him. The king had drawn his sword, aware of what was about to ensue. Just before Alvis hit the ground, Holland flew above him, grabbing the king from his back and flying off to the side. By that point, the other soldiers were already engaging the Gillian army, and Holland set the king down a safe distance away before racing forward toward the white dragon. As he approached, he saw a large arrow burrowed in Alvis’ chest, and gold blood pooled all around his body. As he took his last breath, his body began to shimmer and instantly turned to dust. They had killed him.

  Holland took to the air, anger surging through him and building deep in his belly. He watched as the Avalon army pushed the Gillians back before yelling out to them.

  Everyone move back, he roared. The army of Avalon looked up at him and began to run in the opposite direction. As soon as they were clear, Holland looked down at the Gillians, who stood confused by the retreat. As their eyes followed the trail up to Holland, the shifters let out a mighty roar and released the contents of their bellies on the army below. The Wild took off, smoldering any, who had managed to get away before the inferno brightened the darkening sky.

  Holland hovered in the air as the smoke cleared from the target. He looked beneath him where the Gillian army was now replaced with nothing more than ash and smoldering armor. A feeling of satisfaction washed ove
r him, knowing he had avenged his assistant’s death, but deeply hidden beneath it was a dark scar that he would forever carry. The shifters began to move in circles around the cinder piles, the gold ash of Alvis still glimmering in the fleeting light. The Wild landed and bowed in reverence, and the soldiers took a knee for their fallen brother.

  This was a planned attack, and though only one had perished, it would not be forgotten come daybreak. Holland looked down at the king, who stood watching the spectacle from the sidelines, his sword now sheathed and his face expressionless. He glanced up at Holland before walking toward the ranks of men.

  Make Camp!!!

  With Holland’s words, the men scurried about, grabbing tents and cloth from the backs of the Wild. Though they had no fear of the king, they felt the anger radiating from Holland and felt there was no time to stand around. Holland sent the other shifters off to patrol the surrounding areas for any other enemy lurking in the shadow, and by the time the camp was set, and fires blazed, all had come back clear.

  As Holland’s claws hit the dirt, he quickly changed back into his human form, and without missing a step, made his way to the king’s tent. He threw open the sash and bowed momentarily before entering further. The king was standing by a makeshift table, studying a map of Gillian, stroking his beard.

  “How did they know?” Holland said angrily.

  “I am not sure,” the king replied. “But I am sorry for the loss of your man. However, that anger can be better used, than directing it toward those on your side.”

  Holland took a deep breath and walked over to the map where the king pointed down at the edge of the castle where the King of Gillian would be. He had drawn a line around the edges and to the back of the castle, just above the mountains. Osiris looked carefully at Holland, studying his reaction.

  “We attack in the night, from the mountains,” the king stated. “They will not see us coming, especially with the color of the Wild blending into the dark night. The moon is at its smallest, so light will be minimal.”

  Holland stroked the handle of his sword, imagining the strike in his mind. It was a lot to plan in just an hour’s time, but if done correctly, the King of Gillian would be dead by the crest of the sun, and the troops could be home by evening. He looked up at the king, trying to hide his surprise at his ability to strategize.

  “You underestimate me, Holland,” he replied with a small smirk. “It seems the old whip can be of some use.”

  “Let’s take it to Vitraus and make sure the Wild is capable,” Holland replied without emotion. “If so, we do it now. No waiting.”

  “I like this new Holland,” the king said, laughing.

  Just as Holland had expected, Vitraus was just as ready and revenge torn as he was and agreed to the plan. Holland watched as the Wild leader slunk off into the shadows to speak to his army of Wilds. The king took the helm with the soldiers and began picking leaders to prepare the army. As each fire slowly extinguished, leaving the camp in the blanket of night, Holland reached into his satchel and rolled the glowing blue stone over in his hands. He turned at the sound of ranks approaching, but all he could see was a sea of blue fae markings on the heads of the Wild.

  Into the darkness, he would ride, unsure if he would ever feel the light again.

  Chapter Twelve: The Rise of a King

  The night air was still–so still, it almost didn’t seem real. Holland flew two spots behind Vitraus, carrying nothing more than the blue stone Leonetta had given him. The air around Holland felt almost like warm water as his wings slowly flapped. There was an eerie calm to their efforts, and even the soldiers atop the Wild’s back sat straight, unmoving and fearless.

  The group knew that there was no holding back once the kingdom was in sight, and Holland took a moment to go over the plan, one last time, with the group before turning the corner to their fate.

  When we see the castle, we speed up; don’t give them time to prepare. I will head for the king’s chambers at the top of the tower on the left. The right side of the shifters head for the army bunkers, and the left head for the guards at the city walls. Wild, you know what to do.

  As the dragons turned the corner, finding the lights from the castle, they began to speed up. The soldiers, ready for battle, started humming an old Avalon battle song in unison while clapping their swords against their shields. The collective chorus of the army bounced off the canyon walls and echoed throughout the realm of Gillian. As Holland swooped upward toward the towers, he watched as the Wild blew past him at impressive speed, their bellies glowing red with fire.

  Holland approached the edge of the tower but didn’t slow down, crashing into the side and perching on the edge of the broken wall. He flapped his wings heavily to clear the dust from the air and looked down as the king groaned, lying in the rubble of his chambers. There was no time for thought as Holland sensed the approaching guards. He shifted quickly into his human form, pulled his sword from his side, and poured the kerosene dripping from the broken lamp onto the blade. He lit the blade on fire and waved it in front of him. The king got up on his knees and looked up at Holland, the fire reflecting in his pupils.

  Holland bowed in reverence to the mighty king before swinging his flaming sword swiftly through the air, taking his head clean off his shoulders, and cauterizing the wound to avoid blood spill. The king’s body sat upright for just a moment before falling to the side and into the rubble. Holland, emotionless, leaned down and picked the king’s head from the ground and placed it in the golden bag Leonetta had given him. He grabbed a piece of cloth and smothered the smoldering sword before placing it back into its sheath.

  The king was only the trophy; there was a kingdom–likely unwilling to fall to Avalon’s rule–to tame. Holland shifted back into his dragon form and climbed to the highest part of the tower. Fires raged across the city, but he was surprised as to the lack of people in the streets. The town seemed almost empty. He called to his shifters to begin laps of the countryside outside the city walls and to collect any Gillians they found.

  Holland took flight and soared over the burning city, watching as a few men left inside the walls burned slowly below. The Wild had perched on the rooftops, ripping ceilings from homes, looking for anyone left. Holland caught sight of Vitraus and quickly flew over to join him.

  Where are the people?

  We are unsure, Commander. The city is like a ghost town. Maybe they’ve hidden in the countryside.

  Holland took several flights around the city before flying over the walls and out into the country. The city itself was bleak and empty, though carts still stood as if they had been manned just hours before. Children’s toys were left lying in the dust, and even some doors were still ajar. The people had left in a hurry.

  He made his way down through the valley before landing atop a hill that overlooked the plains below. There were fires burning throughout, lighting the once green hills. Anger began to burn in Holland’s belly at the thought of being bested by the Gillians. One of Holland’s sergeants slowly landed beside him, tucking his wings back and looking out over the fields.

  Not a soul, sir. We haven’t found a soul, dead or alive.

  This is nonsense! They have to be here somewhere.

  Perhaps if we wait until dawn, we will be better able to see.

  No need. Burn it. Burn it all.

  The sergeant paused but nodded in understanding before taking flight and giving the word to the other dragons. Vitraus looked over at Holland, who had shifted into his human form. He stood on the hill overlooking the valley, perplexed at how he had been bested.

  Commander, do you think it wise we burn the fields before they are checked for crops?

  There are no crops, Vitraus, the crops were the burning piles already lit before we ever stepped claw into Gillian. Someone is watching, and I will find them, and I will kill them.

  Vitraus watched as the reflection from the blazing fires danced across Holland’s face. He no longer held the stature of a young boy, b
ut instead wore the weathering of war in the creases of his forehead. Holland watched as the once beautiful and lush land of Gillian was reduced to no more than a pile of cinder. He waited until the last shifter had returned from the edges of Gillian before shifting back into his dragon and calling for the Wild to collect their soldiers.

  The armies rallied in the fields, soot covering their glimmering shields and battle-torn faces. Once all were accounted for, and any bodies of their own were collected, though very few in number, the Army set off back toward camp, leaving Gillian smoldering under in its own demise. Holland led the flight back but didn’t wait for the troops once he hit the ground. His claws quickly turned to feet, and he rushed toward the king, who had stayed behind in his tent at the request of Holland.

  “Your prize,” he said, slinging the golden bag onto the table top. “Our prize, unfortunately, is not as glorious.”

  The king stood from his chair and placed his glass of wine on the table. He opened the bag and peered down, smiling at the head of the Gillian king. He tightened the rope and tossed the bag to one of the guards. Picking up his glass, he turned to Holland and inspected his unexpected angry stance.

  “It seems you have won,” he said, smiling. “Why are you so angry?”

  “There were no people left anywhere in the town,” Holland said, grasping his fists together. “It was like they had all disappeared. We killed any army in their bunk, all the guards, and of course the king, but the people were gone, leaving behind only smoldering stacks of crops.”

  “We shall burn the realm then,” the king said, looking down and fidgeting with the rings on his hand.

  “It has already been done,” Holland said, expecting a more severe reaction. “But what shall we do with this? Someone is watching, listening, and moving before we can.”