The Chronicles of Aurion Read online

  “Not yet my lord,” repeated the frightened captain.

  “Then the defenses must hold,” answered Lorenathi defiantly as he slid his gold plated helmet over his head.

  Lorenathi’Liluon was an imposing figure. At six-foot-five, he already stood taller than most of his people, making his already rugged frame even more impressive. His long golden hair was woven, layer by layer, into a long braid that fell behind him. His regal armor and engraved greatsword created an image that screamed warrior and king. He was both beautiful and terrible to behold. He was a king prepared for war. Yet despite his regal and fearsome statue, it was impossible for your eyes not to be drawn to where the oversized ruby hung by a thick chain pendant in the middle of his breast, pulsing with blood red energy under the moonless sky.

  “What is your command, my lord?” asked the humbled captain.

  “Find El’Rhokiin, I must speak with him at once,” commanded Lorenathi before departing the royal armory.

  “Y…yes sir,” stammered the young captain before scrambling out of the armory as well.

  “Commander Vaudrin, what is the status of the siege?” asked Yezreth.

  The commander looked longingly at his wicked mistress and her provocative attire. “Your mages have effectively suppressed the city’s defenses at this point. Their ballistas have mostly been reduced to rubble at this point, and we are still out of the range of their bowmen.”

  “Good, then we can begin the invasion,” said the queen.

  “That’s not a good idea, your Majesty,” answered Vaudrin.

  “You will not deny me that which is mine. I’d have thought you already understood that much, my dear Vaudrin,” replied the queen as she leaned over the sandtable.

  His eyes explored her tragically tempting features before he forced himself to focus. “You’ll have your stone, but we cannot send the men in yet. It is too early; they will be slaughtered.”

  “Why so little faith, my righteous champion?” she asked with mock sincerity.

  Vaudrin’s answer was quick, “The elves are the most finely trained warriors in all of Aurion. Especially those that serve the house of Liluon. Even if we outnumbered them two-to-one, they would route us in hand-to-hand combat. We can’t just march in through the front door.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked as she began tapping her foot.

  Vaudrin continued, “The elves are the masters of Inu’Salus. It is believed to be the oldest fighting style in all the known world, and we believe they created it.”

  The queen sighed, “What does it matter?”

  “Inu’Salus is a defensive fighting style. That’s why they use the glaives and the shields. They are perfect for how they fight,” added the commander.

  Lines of anger began to form across the queen’s lovely face. “You still haven’t answered my question, Vaudrin.”

  The commander pointed to the city that was mapped out on the sandtable. “The entire city, from its outer defenses to its innermost core, was designed to defend with their own forces, soldiers trained in the art of Inu’Salus. It was designed to let them play upon their strengths. The entire city is a never-ending series of narrow halls and choke points. Even the stone walls are lined with murder holes. Their soldiers will form a phalanx in every corridor, blocking our advance. Our men will be trapped. They won’t have the room needed to maneuver. They will be destroyed.”

  Yezreth didn’t like what she heard, but her expression softened. “What do you propose then, Commander?”

  Relieved that she was actually willing to listen, Vaudrin answered, “We must draw them out.”

  The annoyed look returned to her face. “You just said they are a defensive lot; what if you can’t lure them out?”

  “There might be another way...”

  “What are you proposing?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “This dreary weather could serve us well. If we wait until nightfall, we could have the cover we need. Your mages will keep the elves from their defenses as our troops give the appearance of finally breaking into the city,” explained the commander as he pointed to the gate drawn upon the sand table.

  “You just said this is exactly what not to do—” said the confused queen.

  “Let me finish,” snapped Vaudrin.

  The queen’s hardened expression gave no ground.

  Vaudrin backpedaled hastily, “My apologies, your majesty. It’s just...you didn’t let me finish.”

  Tight lipped and square jawed, she replied sharply, “Proceed.”

  “As I said, this cloud cover will give us the concealment we need. We could take a small force around to the western side of the city. That direction is all elven territory. It is not as well defended with either manpower or fortifications. With the right force, we could breach the walls and—”

  “And get my gem,” interrupted Yezreth.

  The look in her eyes made Vaudrin nervous, but he appeased her. “And get your gem.”

  A trance momentarily swept her away, giving life to an apparition-like gleam in her eyes. Her eyes lingered upon someplace far, far away until the unseen hands of the rising wind snapped the flaps of the tent. The crackling and rustling sound of the wind-touched tent roused her from her daydream with a start.

  Vaudrin asked her, “Yez, are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she replied with a hint of irritation. “So what type of force are we taking with us?”

  “We are not going anywhere,” he answered. “I do have a few select individuals in mind though.”

  “Don’t think for a second that I am staying here,” said the queen.

  “Yez—”

  She ignored him, “So, who else did you have in mind?”

  “Malek, Teren, Bolus, a couple of your fire-breathing dragons and...Genji,” he answered.

  “Fire-breathing dragons?” she laughed.

  “You know, your flame-throwing priests,” he said with a hand gesture.

  “Why do you need my dragons once you are inside the city?” she asked.

  A faint whisper called his name, but Vaudrin ignored its warning as he answered her. “If something is to be consumed in flames, you must burn it from the inside out. Like a man, set fire to the heart of the city, and the flames will spread.”

  Queen Yezreth’s senses tingled at the caress of the context shift. She smiled contemptuously as she moved next to him. Beads of sweat rolled down off his gray head, his pulse quickening. She pressed her body against him and stretched up, bringing her mouth toward his ear.

  Her silky smooth voice dropped low, just above a whisper. “You sound like a man who knows what it is to burn. But you haven’t tasted anything yet…”

  His voice faltered as he answered, “I—We must go.”

  She gave him a sinful grin of satisfaction before she turned and walked away. Pausing before she departed the command tent, she asked one last question, “Why Genji?”

  “Your brother has a unique…talent. We will need him to get inside the walls,” he answered.

  “Very well. We leave at nightfall. Hopefully we can get back in enough time to enjoy the rest of the night…” her honey-dipped voice trailed off and then she was gone.

  Vaudrin’s heart raged inside his chest, and he nearly collapsed as she walked out of the tent. He hated that wicked woman, but he burned with desire for her. He knew that the flames spreading through his heart were the kind that destroyed everything in their path, and he couldn’t wait to surrender to them again. He knew he was losing himself to her, he was being overtaken by the fire, and he hated himself for it.

  The shouting voice jolted him from his thoughts, “Commander...Commander Lightwell, are you okay?”

  Vaudrin shook his head as he gathered his wits. Then he looked to the young lieutenant at the tent’s entrance and replied, “I’m fine, why?”

  The lieutenant’s concerned look was undiminished as he pointed to the dagger clutched firmly in Vaudrin’s right hand.

  Vaudrin
tried to hide his own surprise as he noticed the blade. Then, before he showed any weakness, he slammed the dagger downward into the soft surface of the sandtable in front of him. Then he gave the youth a fiery glance and shouted, “Fetch Malek, Teren, and Bolus!”

  “Yes, Commander,” replied the lieutenant as he made a hasty retreat.

  The fireballs fell one after another. The king’s keep groaned with each reverberating blast. The walls of Girielle were burning, and the Church’s army pressed upon the city’s gates. The armored ranks of the elven army waited for the moment that those gates would come crashing down. Their silver glaives stretched far beyond the ornately engraved shields that hid most of their bodies. They wore long, flowing robes befitting the priesthood, which were overlaid with the finest armor. Each piece bore intricate markings and shone like silver. This was no simple rabble; it was the Army of Girielle, and every soldier looked like a prince prepared for battle.

  King Lorenathi made his way across the Girielle’s central courtyard until he was halted by a flash of purple light, followed by a crack of thunder. The startled king spun about to witness a second flash illuminating the night sky above the western gate. The gate shook under the force of the second blast.

  “What in creation?” gasped Lorenathi, his mouth agape as a third blast struck the giant wooden doors.

  The king took his great sword and drove its blade into the ground before him. There he stood before the failing gate with palms uplifted and eyes to the unlit heavens. The slow murmur of a chant rose from his lips. He whispered, “Ynu, grant me strength.” Within seconds, pale blue light began swirl around him like a fiery mist and some began to gather in the palms of his hands, and then the gate exploded.

  The fourth and final blast of the purple-streaked lightning was too much for the oaken doors to withstand. The wooden fragments of the gate flew into the courtyard like a rushing wind. The storm of debris surged toward the king. His eyelids flew open, revealing blazing orbs of cobalt light. With a flick of his wrists his palms snapped forward, sending a sweeping wall of mist-like blue light ahead of him. The wave of light struck down the advancing storm, casting all the splintered fragments aside.

  The dust settled after a few seconds, and King Lorenathi could clearly see his attackers. Seven men and one woman stood there in the place where the gate once towered.

  “He harnesses the power of the stone! Quickly, kill him!” screamed the wicked woman.

  Genji reached toward his sister’s amethyst Elder Stone with one hand, and stretched toward the king with the other. The crackle of purple lightning rang out as tendrils of violent energy snaked forth from Genji’s fingertips. The cords of purple energy surged toward the elven king.

  Reflexively, Lorenathi snatched his blade from the ground in time to deflect the attack. The blade clanged as it parried the seemingly incorporeal projectile. With a look of grim determination on his still glowing face, the king charged forward.

  “To battle!” commanded Vaudrin as he issued the charge.

  Malek, Teren, and Bolus heeded the call, racing ahead of their commander.

  Queen Yezreth turned to her mages and screamed, “Burn him!”

  The words Kri Bvor Kettuoro were met with painful shrieks as the mages uttered the name of fiery consequence. The wildfire tore out of their grasp, hurling itself toward the king with devilish fury. The two mages wailed in agony as they held out their scorched hands.

  Lorenathi wildly threw his left arm out to the side as the balls of fire descended upon him. The surging wave of swirling light from his palm caught the fiery spheres and cast them aside. The fireballs exploded as they slammed against the nearby stone walls. The smoke and dust swirled for a moment and cleared in just enough time for Lorenathi to see Vaudrin and his three warriors.

  Bolus was the youngest of the three, and his youthful strength got him to the king first. Lowering his shoulder behind his kite shield, Bolus rammed the king. The men staggered backward several yards with the force of the collision, but the king kept his feet. Lorenathi was able to use the youth’s weight and momentum against him, throwing him aside, but it was too late.

  Melek and Teren had reached the king. Teren was the first to strike as he swung down with his great hammer. The iron head of the mallet pounded Lorenathi’s right arm, jarring the sword from his grasp. Before the king could react, Melek delivered a vicious blow with his shield. Lorenathi’Liluon lost his balance and fell to the ground. Lorenathi glanced at his blade, but the attackers stood between him and it.

  Intending to seize the opportunity, the twin warriors rushed him again. Teren’s muscles groaned as he hefted the large mallet, while Melek lunged forward with his short sword. This wasn’t the king’s first battle though. With cat-like quickness, Lorenathi rolled toward Melek, just passed the oncoming sword point. His powerful, gauntleted hands seized Melek’s sword arm and pulled him down, causing him to tumble right into harm's way. The wide iron face of the great cudgel Teren wielded came down like an avalanche, the deadly blow executed to great effect.

  The soldier’s plated armor did little to stunt the blow from his brother’s hammer. Steel and bone alike broke, just as air and blood were driven from Melek’s mouth. The wounded man tried to scream in pain, but he couldn’t. His lungs, shocked by the devastating hammer stroke, refused to cooperate. The king seized upon the brothers’ misfortune and dismay to gain the upper hand. In one powerful maneuver, Lorenathi twisted his body violently in an arc. The steel-plated greaves of his outstretched leg caught the distraught Teren off guard. The leg whip took him down.

  Lorenathi’s eyes found his blade once more. This is my chance, thought the king. He couldn’t waste time getting to his feet, so he sprang into a bear crawl, but he was quickly driven into the ground again. Bolus had recovered and tackled him before he could reach it. The king had to do something quickly, because Vaudrin was closing in and soon he would be surrounded. So he snapped his head backward, hoping beyond hope that he might catch his attacker, and he did just that. The sickening snap and subsequent scream confirmed it. The plated rim of his battle crown smashed right into Bolus’s face, smearing his nose across his cheek.

  As Bolus writhed in pain, Lorenathi was able to regain his footing before Vaudrin and Teren charged him from opposite directions. Then the king issued the command. Imporum Imraastuus poured like wine from his lips. His burning blue eyes flashed and a whistling sound rang out as his massive sword flew through the air. Before they even knew that he had caught the sword, the mist-like luminescence that had swirled about the king had already begun swirling around his long outstretched blade and it burned a majestic brilliant blue. Lorenathi’s effortless strike cut Teren down. His armor was worthless against the king’s attack.

  Vaudrin stood but a few feet away, stunned. He held his own greatsword firmly, but it was more than just his convictions that wavered. He watched as the king’s blade seemed to cool and return to normal. Even still, he was terrified as he watched the elven king rise up to his full height. So with fear in his heart, he charged, and the battle began anew.

  “Vaudrin Lightwell, how did you fall so far?” asked the king, his burning eyes focused intently upon his adversary.

  “Just hand over the gem,” was Vaudrin’s terse reply as he eyed the gem that hung from the king’s armor.

  The king’s sword met with Vaudrin’s. “You know that’s not going to happen.”

  “What are you waiting for? Kill him!” screamed Yezreth as she drew closer to the battle.

  Her commands ushered forth a new wave of attacks from her servants. The mages crumpled to the ground again as they launched their second set of fireballs. Screams of pain soared above the roar of the flames as the magic ravaged their bodies. The fireballs did not find their mark, but they added to the ongoing destruction of Girielle. The two mages were never the real threat, though. The same couldn’t be said for Genji.

  The scrawny man hobbled up alongside his sister once more, reaching out with one hand
on her Elder Stone, something she never allowed the priests to do, and then he stretched his other hand toward Lorenathi. Then the familiar words burst forth from his lips: Bekla Somni Vish. The dark purple lightning sprang forth from his fingertips, hurling itself toward the two combatants. Their swords clashed again, before the king shoved his opponent out of the way of the purple projectile. The magic tore into the stone ground after missing them both. Like a mystical cleaver, the energy hewed the paving stones, leaving a large swath of cracked and split stone at their feet.

  “See! They don’t care about you, they just thirst for power!” growled the king, as he parried another of Vaudrin’s attacks.

  “Graaah!” howled Vaudrin, breaking into a fury of rapid overhand strikes.

  King Lorenathi was a skilled warrior, and a powerful one at that, but Vaudrin was ferocious in battle. He was able to deflect the first few blows, but as the onslaught continued, the king began to stumble backward, then his heel caught in the groove between the cobblestones. The blows continued as he fell. Lorenathi tried to catch his balance, but he was left open to attack. He attempted to parry the blows, but he was too slow. Vaudrin’s sword flashed as it arced downward, the tip of the blade shattering the chain that held the king’s ruby Elder Stone. Both swords clanged as they hit the ground, while the combatants scrambled for the blood-red gem. The hissing, crackling sound of Genji’s dark lightning echoed against the stones as it flew at them once again. Vaudrin scooped the gem off the ground with one hand, and grabbed the king with the other. The king’s momentum made it easy for Vaudrin to pull him in front of the oncoming blast.

  Lorenathi’s armor withstood the first few blasts, but it wouldn’t for much longer. He cried out Imporum Imraastuus, but his sword never came. It was snared by Yezreth’s own dark magical bindings. A serpent of inky black energy held it fast in its coils mere feet away. The queen’s haunting laughter sent chills down his spine as she moved closer to him.

  She mockingly remarked, “Long live the king.”