War of the Realms Box Set

by Sarah J. Stone

  Hornworth was a pretty place with no carved roads, no bustling towns, and fertile, green farmland as far as the eye could see. There were farming cottages that peppered the landscape, and the fields had been picked right before the Autumn Solstice. These areas wouldn’t see crops again until after the harsh winter melted into spring. The warm sun caused Pike to sweat under the thick robes, so he removed the hood, feeling it would be safe to travel exposed through Hornworth, at least for a while. People waved kindly as he passed by their homes, wishing his life had been that simple. To have a small house with a small field to yield crops and Shayla to sit next to on the porch seemed like the perfect life. Pike shook his head, knowing daydreams were not what he needed.

  Late into the afternoon, as Pike moved forward, a storm rolled over the lands. Crashing thunder and bright lightning flashed across the sky as the water fell from the heavens like a typhoon. Pike continued on, knowing there would be no place to stop until he got to Terragon. As he walked through a small area with several houses, their fields stretching for miles behind their houses, he didn’t notice the woman sitting on the porch. Water streamed down his face, and he blinked hard, trying to see through the raindrops as he walked.

  “Traveler,” a voice called out from the porch Pike was traveling, “why don’t you seek shelter for a bit? This weather could kill you.”

  “I appreciate it, ma’am,” Pike responded, looking at the middle-aged woman sitting on the porch. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

  “You’re no bother,” she said, standing, wisps of her long, brown hair blowing across her face. “Come inside and get some food. You can wait ‘til the storm passes.”

  “Well,” Pike said, looking around him at the endless darkened sky, “all right, if you don’t mind and you’re sure I’m not intruding.”

  “We don’t get many visitors around here,” she said, smiling and putting her arm on Pike’s back as she guided him toward the door. “Least we can do is get you out of the rain.”

  “I really do appreciate it,” he replied, looking around at the simple cottage with handmade rugs and wooden furniture.

  Two small children were sitting to the right, playing with some sort of toy that looked handmade. In front of him was the kitchen with a large wooden table and a fat, jolly-looking man with a long red beard. The man looked up as he placed his cloak on the rack and set his sword next to the door.

  “This traveler was getting killed in this storm,” the lady said to her husband. “I figured we’d have some company for dinner.”

  “That’s my kind wife, helping everyone she can,” the man said with a tone of pride in his voice. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Oh, I am Pike from the Cascading Seas,” he replied, reaching out and shaking the man’s hand.

  “Lovely place,” the man mumbled. “Well, I’m Barnaby. This is my wife Helen, and those two are our little rugrats, Esther and Peter.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” Pike replied, nodding to each person. “I very much appreciate the welcome.”

  “Here,” Helen said, setting down a bowl of stew and a chunk of bread, “eat up; you look hungry.”

  Pike tried to avoid diving into the food, but he was absolutely starving. He sat down at the table and began to spoon the food into his mouth. Helen poured him some wine in a wooden cup, and Pike smiled, bread sticking out of his lips. She seemed to be pleased with his eagerness to eat, so she spooned another bite of stew in the bowl and wiped her hands on her apron.

  “So, Pike, what are you doing traveling in this direction?” Barnaby turned, his belly smashed against the table.

  “I’m traveling to Terragon,” Pike responded, not knowing what to say. “Looking to get some goods for my wife and me.”

  “Very good,” Barnaby jollied. “That’s a perfect place to do it. Since this Osiris character has been causing issues, the port has been completely abandoned of merchants. We’ve been going to Terragon, too, for our goods.”

  “I sure hope things settle down soon,” Helen said with innocence in her voice. “We heard he might be heading toward the port.”

  “Well, he did,” Pike responded, not wanting to say too much. “But he was killed alongside his men.”

  “Really? That’s some good news,” Barnaby said, smiling. “Good news from a kind stranger. I can drink to that.”

  Barnaby picked up his mug and drank from it, most of it seeping from the corner of his mouth and running down his beard. Pike liked these humans; they seemed so kind-hearted. He’d never had the chance to meet the people he protected, and he now understood why Osharus was so concerned with keeping the people of the realm safe from harm. The smaller of the two children, Esther, approached with a shy face and hiding slightly behind her father.

  “Well, say hi to our guest,” Barnaby said.

  “Hello,” Esther whispered, moving to her mother and hiding behind the skirt of her dress.

  “Hello,” Pike said, smiling. “I’m Pike.”

  “Like the mer-prince,” Peter said, standing up. “I heard he is a noble warrior, not afraid of anything.”

  “You did, did you?” Pike chuckled, glad to hear some kind words about himself.

  “I heard he became a human, and his wife was stolen away,” the boy said loudly.

  “Now, now, Peter. What have I told you about your stories? Go run along and wash up for bed,” Helen said, chasing both the children off toward a room at the shack. “He has a knack for rumors, that one. Well, Pike, it looks like this storm isn’t gonna be shoving off anytime soon. I’ll make you a pallet, and you can sleep here for the night.”

  “That is mighty kind of you, but I should be getting to Terragon,” Pike responded, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and handing her his empty dishes.

  “Nonsense, you can’t be going out in this,” Barnaby replied. “Besides, my wife makes one heck of a pancake breakfast. Stick around ‘til morning. The storm should be gone by then.”

  Not wanting to fight them and thinking about how nice it would be to sleep next to a warm fire, Pike agreed. He helped Helen spread out blankets on the floor by the fireplace and said goodnight to Peter and Esther. Barnaby pulled on his sleeves as he put some more wood on the fire and yawned, stretching his massive arms high in the air.

  “Welp, it’s been a really long day for me. I’m off to bed,” Barnaby said mid yawn. “Make yourself at home, and I’m sure those kiddies will wake you when they jump from the beds in the morning.”

  “Thank you again,” Pike said as Barnaby and Helen walked back to the room, looking at each other strangely.

  It had probably just gotten dark out, but there hadn’t been light for hours from the storm. Pike leaned back against the soft covers and stared into the flames of the fireplace. He yawned big, realizing he was more tired than he realized, especially after sleeping in the muddy leaves the night before. Before he could even think about it, Pike’s eyes were shut, and he was in a deep, dreamless sleep. The crackle of the fire was like a lullaby for him and must have been what kept him from hearing the stomping outside, slowly approaching the house.

  “Wake up,” Helen whispered, shaking Pike awake. She put her finger to her lips and nodded toward the door.

  Pike sat very still, watching Barnaby grab an old, rusty sword from the back and stand next to the door, half dressed. Suddenly, the house shook as the stomping of heavy footsteps walked up onto the porch. They could hear voices on the other side, but they couldn’t understand what they were saying.

  “Ogres,” Helen whispered, running back toward the room to shelter the kids.

  “This is my fault,” Pike said, pulling his robe on and wrapping his sword around his waist. “Go hide; I will take care of this.”

  “Nonsense, Your Grace,” Barnaby shushed.

  “What did you say?” Pike asked, stunned at what he heard.

  “You think we don’t know the mer-prince when we see him? We need you to protect this realm from the Dead King, so I’m gonna
get you out of here,” Barnaby said, putting the sword down carefully and turning to Pike. “Put your hood up so they can’t see ya and sneak out the back window. Once you’re gone, run. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back, no matter what happens or what you hear. Do you understand?”

  Pike shook his head, wanting to fight him on this but knowing that he needed to make it to Pero Peaks without the Dead King getting the sword. He hurried across the room and slowly slid the window open and climbed through it. Pike began to pull the window closed but stopped and stuck his head back in, pulling down his hood.

  “Thank you for everything. You will not be forgotten, brave Barnaby,” Pike whispered before ducking back out of the window.

  He pulled his hood back over his head and began to run as fast as he could. When Pike had reached the edge of the field, he turned back and waited for any sign. The shadows from the ogres through the window sent chills up his spine. He could hear shouting and clanging, and Pike watched as the Dead King’s men shoved Barnaby out of sight, walking toward him with raised fists. Everything in Pike wanted to turn around and fight, but he knew that if he did he might lose the sword and more people like Barnaby would be lost.

  Pike turned and continued to run, tears flowing from his eyes as he listened to the screams disappearing into the background. The rain streamed down hard over him, and he stopped, falling to his knees once he felt he was a safe distance away. The faces of their two little children flashed through his mind, and Pike screamed out into the darkness, his heart breaking inside of his chest. He breathed hard, sitting in the mud, water collecting around him. As his breathing slowed, he looked up at the night sky, anger beginning to build and flow through his entire body.

  “I will find you,” he whispered to himself. “And when I do, your reign will be over.”

  Chapter Two: A Fish on a Hook

  Asphodul sat perched on her throne, staring out at the rain pouring down outside the castle walls. Though she knew the lush forests and vibrant streams of the Vale needed the water’s nourishment, she hated cold rainy days like these. Just hours before, among friends and allies, they laid the oldest king of the land, Osharus, to rest next to her father’s grave. Dawned in black robes, Aralea and Georges, the new Queen and King of the Cascading Seas, said their final goodbyes to the fallen hero. Osharus had been around even longer than her father and had been one of the first kings of the east realms. He had negotiated peace with the creatures of this land and secured the boundaries of all of the kingdoms.

  When he was still young in years, he faced the evil Dead King, driving his forces back with the help of his wizarding magic and the inherent power of the fae. Now, as the king’s centuries-old body is at rest, the world faces this demon once again. Too many had already lost their lives to this foe and his Queen, Malaya.

  Asphodul ran her hand over her empty belly, thinking about the sacrifices she would make for her babe if she were able to have one with Tyriad, wondering if Malaya would do the same for the beast growing inside of her. With the thought of a child, Asphodul’s mind turned to her own love, Tyriad, and the feeling of loss came to her. Though she consciously made a choice to marry Tyriad knowing she could never have his child, somewhere hidden inside of her mourns that outcome like the death of a dream. The fae could only have a child by another fae, which is why King Osiris had originally requested Asphodul’s father to impregnate Osiris’ fae wife, thus producing Leonetta.

  She loved Leonetta and had yearned for her presence for many marks. They were truly sisters of the fae and had spent many hours talking about their future now that their own parents were all deceased. However, knowing Leonetta had been the child her father had always yearned for, and understanding she would pick a fae to mate, producing a child and the heir to the throne, stirred a feeling of resentment deep inside Asphodul. She would never treat her sister unkindly and knew it was difficult for her knowing she would never be queen, but that couldn’t keep those feelings from bubbling up from time to time. As Asphodul stared out into the pouring rain, she felt the hands of her love move over her shoulders, and his warm, musky scent caught her nose.

  “What is my beautiful queen doing sitting out here all alone?” Tyriad asked, whispering into Asphodul’s ear.

  “Just thinking, as we queens tend to do,” she said, smiling. “No training today?”

  “No, not on the memorial of the Cascading Sea,” Tyriad replied. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Oh, just life, love, family. You know, the usual things,” Asphodul replied, knowing he was going to read right through that.

  “I knew Aralea’s growing belly was going to affect you. Let’s talk about it,” Tyriad said, kneeling next to her throne. “It is possible to have your own heir.”

  “By another man,” Asphodul scoffed. “I don’t want another’s child; I want yours.”

  “And I wish that were possible, my dear, but if we are thinking about the future of this kingdom we may have to make sacrifices,” he said, brushing a piece of hair from her face.

  “That is where Leonetta comes in,” Asphodul said, looking up at the falling rain. “She will secure an heir.”

  “Leonetta is no more reliable in these matters than her Faith is at not keeping secrets,” Tyriad said with a pouting face. “You know I love her as your sister, but you have to know she just got here. Your allegiance runs deeper than anyone’s, and she is just now learning to love this Kingdom as her own.”

  “Well, she promised, and I will give her time to fulfill that pledge,” Asphodul stated, thinking about her loyalty to her sister. “Has she not shown her allegiance?”

  “That she has my dear, but when we speak of Leonetta, we are talking about years. With you, it is centuries of dedication to a kingdom that has born you, nursed you, and taught you love and the fae way,” Tyriad explained gently. “All I am saying is, try to be careful of the faith you place on those that aren’t as wise as yourself.”

  “You are such a smart man,” Asphodul said, smiling and turning toward Tyriad. “How ever did I get so lucky?”

  “I’m not sure, but there were hearts breaking all over the kingdom,” Tyriad said, smiling and waving his arm in the air.

  “I’m sure,” Asphodul replied, rolling her eyes and laughing.

  “Are you coming to tea?” Tyriad asked as he stood up and put out his hand.

  “Not today, my dear. I am going to sit here a bit longer,” she replied, closing her eyes as Tyriad leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Then I will see you at the Celebration of Life tonight,” Tyriad whispered before turning and walking from the throne room.

  Asphodul picked up the tassels that ran down the sleeves of her dress and flipped them through her fingers, thinking about the party tonight. She would usually be running around, getting ready for the event, but in an attempt to distract her own mind, Aralea had asked to arrange the celebration. What a strange party, Asphodul thought to herself. They mourn their loved one’s lost life, and then hours later they celebrate them as if they were returning from an extended vacation. Asphodul never understood the point of a funeral, as the being’s magic and soul were already released. What lays below the cold, muddy ground is nothing more than an empty capsule, void of a life force, which is why when a fae dies, their body turns to ash, and their magic returns to the stars.

  Asphodul looked up at the doorway at the sound of approaching footsteps. Emerging from the darkened hallways was Holland, still slightly limping from his wounds. Though Leonetta had healed everything she could when he was brought into the Cascading realm, the knife that plunged into his belly was the Dead King’s. The magic inside that dagger was strong and left a lifelong impression on Holland’s soul. Asphodul watched as he rounded the throne and bowed deeply to her.

  “Your Grace,” he said, clearing his throat. “I wanted to thank you for having me in the kingdom, despite our past.”

  “We have all made decisions in our lives that we later realized as the wron
g ones,” Asphodul replied. “Though yours was great, costing us our queen, it is in our nature to forgive those we feel are truly repentant of their transgressions.”

  “And you believe I am?” Holland asked the question with sincerity.

  “I can see your heart,” Asphodul said, standing and walking toward him. “It beats true as it always has. But as it always has, it wavers with those that favor you.”

  “I am but a man,” Holland said in shame.

  “Indeed,” Asphodul said, looking Holland in the eye. “I believe you are repentant, but should you have a change of heart, so to say, remember my dagger will leave you no time for healing.”

  “Understood, Your Grace,” Holland said, bowing and backing up. “I will take my leave.”

  “Before you go,” Asphodul called out, walking forward, thinking of her words carefully, “know that Leonetta holds the key to the future of our kingdom. If you care about her and her kind, you will not pursue this love any further than it has gone.”

  “My pursuit of love is only to see Leonetta happy,” Holland replied, a serious tone coming through his voice. “I will do as the lady asks and no more. She is my love.”

  “But not your queen,” Asphodul said harshly but in a whisper.

  “No, not my queen,” Holland bowed. “My queen is dead.”

  With those words, Holland walked out the doors and into the pouring rain. Asphodul walked slowly toward the opening, watching as Holland shifted into his dragon and took flight. Leonetta had released her spell, trusting him enough to have his powers back, but Asphodul was not so sure. Her sister had been displaced since returning from the war, sleeping little and walking among the shadows with her advisor and once Faith of Avalon, Ardontis. He was a quiet yet powerful man, and their pact was what kept Asphodul suspicious about the future of her kingdom.