The Heart of War, page 1
part #3 of Warsworn Series
The Heart of
War
By Ben Hale
Text Copyright © 2015 Ben Hale
All Rights Reserved
To my family and friends,
who believed
And to my wife,
who is perfect
The Chronicles of Lumineia
By Ben Hale
—The Warsworn—
The Flesh of War
The Age of War
The Heart of War
—The Second Draeken War—
Elseerian
The Gathering
Seven Days
The List Unseen
—The White Mage Saga—
Assassin's Blade (Short story prequel)
The Last Oracle
The Sword of Elseerian
Descent Unto Dark
Impact of the Fallen
The Forge of Light
Table of Contents
The Chronicles of Lumineia
Map of Lumineia
Prologue: Vision
Chapter 1: Father
Chapter 2: Parting
Chapter 3: Doubt and Fear
Chapter 4: Confined
Chapter 5: Terros
Chapter 6: Captain Thane
Chapter 7: The Woodsman
Chapter 8: Caravan
Chapter 9: Threatened
Chapter 10: A Plague of Fear
Chapter 11: Conclave
Chapter 12: Ryben's Curse
Chapter 13: A Duke and a King
Chapter 14: Invasion
Chapter 15: Devastation
Chapter 16: Draeken's General
Chapter 17: Elseerian
Chapter 18: A Proven Truth
Chapter 19: Fate
Chapter 20: Reunion
Chapter 21: A Desperate Hope
Chapter 22: Last Bastion
Chapter 23: Drenuh's Might
Chapter 24: The Asyndrian
Chapter 25: Defiance
Chapter 26: Kythira's Gift
Chapter 27: Eldest
Chapter 28: Daughter
Chapter 29: Messenger
Chapter 30: Scars
Chapter 31: Testing
Chapter 32: Breach
Chapter 33: Retreat
Chapter 34: Fractured
Chapter 35: Heaven's Keep
Chapter 36: Descent
Chapter 37: A World Gathered
Chapter 38: For Honor
Chapter 39: Mourning
Chapter 40: The Commander
Chapter 41: The Final Hour
Chapter 42: King Tryton
Chapter 43: Remnant
Chapter 44: Tryton's Legacy
Chapter 45: One Life Ends
Chapter 46: Home
Epilogue: The Eternals
The Chronicles of Lumineia
Author Bio
Map of Lumineia
Prologue: Vision
Chief Orek unrolled a map of Talinor onto the table, his eyes drawn to the roads nearest the bandit camp. They had attacked several merchant caravans on the northern road, attracting soldiers to the area. He frowned, his gaze shifting to a southern route. The wagons entering Talinor would be filled with stone from the mines, but the ones returning carried the miners' wages. A smirk spread on his features as he thought of the chest of gold and the chance to kill Talinor soldiers.
Of medium build, Orek had once been a captain in Talinor's army, and had built a reputation on his swordsmanship. Then he'd beaten a farmer's daughter senseless for refusing to court him. When the incident reached the king's ears, he'd discharged him from the army and sought to put him in the stockade. Orek sneered at the memory of the soldiers that had come for him. They should have known better than to send so few.
"Orek!"
He growled at the interruption and stepped into the open. Situated on the top of the slope, his tent provided an unbroken view of the camp. Wrapped on three sides by stone walls, the grotto contained a small stream and a pond at one side. Orek had employed a plant mage to grow trees across the western side, and then buried him beneath them. From the outside the barrier appeared to be natural, with foliage too thick for anyone to pass through. Talinor patrols frequently passed by, unaware that a bandit camp lay within easy reach.
His second in command, Rees, sprinted up the slope. Orek scowled at the alarm on his face. "Report."
"An elf is standing outside the tree wall," Rees said.
Orek's hand crept toward the hilt of his sword. "You interrupted me for this?"
Rees's eyes flicked to Orek's sword and he shifted nervously. "She's just staring at the camp. I think she knows."
Orek's scowl deepened and he considered if the easily frightened man had a point. He stepped down and descended the slope, weaving his way through the scattered tents. Most of his men were bandits or former thieves, but some were outcast soldiers like him. He caught their eyes and they stood, drifting toward the front of the camp.
Orek reached the tree wall and grasped a ladder. Ascending to the platform nestled in the canopy above, he crept forward until he could see through the branches. With a bright moon lighting the heavens he had no trouble making out the solitary figure on the road below.
She was elven, that much was certain, and her stance marked her as one with confidence. Dressed in form fitting trousers and light leather armor, she had removed her cloak and folded it on the ground at her side. Only a katsana hung on her back.
Wary at her continued silence, Orek spoke to Rees behind him. "Gather the men."
The elf's head snapped up, and her blue eyes found Orek in the darkness. "Chief Orek? Would you care to open the gates for me?"
Orek scowled and stabbed a finger at Rees to carry out his order. The elf frowned when Orek did not respond and strode toward the tree wall. She drew her sword and cast a flicker of magic upon it.
"Your hospitality is lacking," she called up, "but I can make my own path."
Orek leapt to the ladder. When he was halfway down the trees groaned and bent apart, twisting to open a pathway. The ladder broke free and fell, throwing Orek to the ground. Dazed and angry, he rose to his feet and retreated to the ring of bandits forming. The elf smiled as she stepped into the bandit camp.
"Your camp is well hidden," the elf said. "A pity it does not serve a better purpose."
"Who are you?" Orek demanded, his sword in hand.
"Siarra," she replied, and then her voice became apologetic. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but your campaign has come to an end."
A couple of the bandits laughed but most were not amused. Orek used his sword to point at the opening in the trees.
"I don't see any soldiers," he growled. "And only a fool attacks two score alone."
"The soldiers will be along shortly," Siarra replied. "I would have sent them directly, but I have a message to deliver and you were the closest I could reach before my guards realize I'm gone."
"I'm no woman's errand boy," he snarled.
Siarra laughed. "Who said the message was for you to deliver? Now, shall we begin? My time is short, I'm afraid. Oh, and since most of my magic is bound I'll use a blunted sword, if you don't mind. A cell awaits you and your companions. I would hate to leave it wanting."
Orek stared at her, his confusion turning into anger. "Kill her," he growled.
Siarra flicked her sword out and caught the first assailant, her blade smashing him across the face and knocking him to the ground. The next to approach was a former soldier, a burly man with a large hammer. Just as he reached her the dirt opened like the jaws of a beast and snapped shut on his leg. He stumbled, his growl of surprise cut short when the elf's sword smashed his skull. Orek slowed, allowing the rest of his men to rush forward.
"I know that you have visions of battle," Siarra called as she effortlessly knocked them aside. "And so I found one in order for you to hear me."
Orek cast about, his confusion mounting. "I don't have visions"
Siarra ignored him, and cast a charm that lifted the water from the lake. It caught one of the bandits and dragged him shrieking into the waters. Other thieves shied away, only to fall into the grasp of a tree. Bending down, it wrapped its limbs around the men and bashed them against the ground until they fell silent.
"Your people have followed you to war," Siarra continued. "And now they enjoy a time of peace. Be wary, for that peace is coming to an end."
"Are you mad, elf?" Orek snarled.
He darted forward, striking at the elf's side. She twisted and deflected the blade, and then struck back. With a ferocity and skill that shocked him, she devastated his vaunted talent and smashed his sword from his grip. As his sword tumbled from his fingers she stared into the distance.
"The war to end wars is upon us," she warned, "and without you the races of this world will be lost."
"Who are you talking to?" Orek roared, his fear chewing through his courage.
He fled, and the elf dismantled the last of his bandits like they were children. Then she picked up his sword and threw it. A gust of air sent it spinning toward him. He heard it coming and turned—but the blade smashed into a tree at his side. He flinched away, falling into a tent.
"Stand ready and prepare," she called, advancing upon him as he sought to disentangle himself. Her gaze never left the stone cliff. "Or your entire race will be lost."
"Who are you?" Orek screamed.
She reached him and kicked at the tent, sending the pieces falling to the side. Then she knelt at his side.
"I hope to
"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'RE SAYING!" Orek roared.
He flinched as her eyes settled upon him. "The message isn't for you, Orek."
"Please," he pleaded. "I'll do anything you want."
"You already have," Siarra said. "He only sees battle, and you gave me one."
She cast her magic and the ropes of the tent wrapped around him. Rising, she again stared into space.
"Tell no one we have spoken, Tryton," she said. "If I survive what comes for me I will be visiting you shortly."
Bound in place, Orek could only watch as she strode away.
Chapter 1: Father
Tryton snapped awake, the vision of the grotto still vivid in his memory. Since the day he'd fought the Construct he'd had visions of combat, but never had someone spoken directly to him. Confused, he rose and plodded from the room, pondering the elf's words. He did not recognize her, but something about her seemed familiar. Whoever she was, she'd gone to great lengths to warn him to be wary, and he'd be a fool not to listen.
As was his custom, he ate quickly and then entered the training hall. The chamber resembled many within Astaroth, but this was the one reserved for the king, his Warshards, and other high ranking officers. Round and spacious, the hall contained massive war shields interspersed with ancient weaponry. Light came from enchanted orbs fastened into brackets near the ceiling. He drew his sword and spun it, still pondering the elf's message.
What had she meant by the 'war to end wars'? He'd been taught battle since infancy, and the legacy of it was written in the Sundering that marked his flesh. Spiked tattoos curved across chest, right arm, and face, displaying every kill and feat. Only his left arm remained empty, a testament to all that he refused to slay the weak.
In his youth the bare skin had been a source of scorn among his people, but now it drew respect. Many, including his three children, had followed his example. The restraint had not detracted from their skill, but rather served to highlight it. But were they ready for a major conflict? Before he could ponder it further, his three children entered and took up places around him. Resolving to think about the dream later, he came to a stop.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
In answer, his sons and daughter looked to each other and then began to circle. He smiled, keeping his balance as he rotated to keep his eldest in view. Andric grinned at his choice and set his weapon into a slow spin. With a majestic hammer forged onto the end of a sword, the weapon suggested a rock troll both powerful and agile. At just an inch shorter than Tryton, he towered over the other two.
"Are you certain of your tactic, Father?" Andric asked. "You've put the strongest of us behind you."
Out of the corner of his eye Tryton caught the grin on Valravn's face. His heart softened at the expression. As his only daughter, she'd always been special to him. Seeing her readiness for battle filled him with pride.
Wind coursed around her arm as she drew back her bow, an arrow notched and aimed for Tryton's spine. She had just turned eighteen years of age, but her skill rivaled her older brothers'. Trained by Tryton and his wife, Kythira, she was adept at magic, sword, and bow, a rare combination among their people.
"Perhaps father has finally grown overconfident," Valravn said, a trace of eagerness coloring her tone.
"You have thought as much before," Kell said, his voice quiet, "but we have yet to best him."
Tryton's eyes flicked to him. Of all of his children, Kell was the only one to inherit his reserve. In some respects his caution made him the most dangerous. He was patient and strategic, making him nearly Andric's equal even though he was smaller. While the others moved for an immediate advantage, Kell retreated closer to a wall, his position suggesting a delayed tactic.
A whisper of wind was the warning Tryton waited for, and he whirled to face his daughter. The arrow came on a curve, the magic allowing it to bend in the air before grazing his shoulder. Her expression of triumph turned to dismay when her opening strike missed. By then her brothers had darted at Tryton's exposed flanks.
He charged Valravn, preventing her from drawing another arrow. She raised her bow and caught his greatsword in the middle, but the blow forced her to the floor. Expertly trained, she tilted her bow to the side and rolled out of reach. Tryton rotated around and extended his greatsword, but Andric stepped into the blow and blocked it, allowing Kell to streak in.
"You work well together," Tryton praised, and shifted so Kell's sword slid past his body. "But you must work as one."
Kell reversed his strike and swung again, but Tryton whipped his sword across and knocked it aside. Then he ducked Andric's sweeping attack and lunged for him. Tryton struck high right and left, hiding his true intention in his free hand. When his eldest looked up Tryton drove his knuckles into Andric's midsection, forcing the air from his lungs.
As Andric gasped for breath Tryton darted to the side, keeping Andric between him and Kell. The tactic allowed him to reach Valravn. She'd notched an arrow and drawn back, but his sudden charge forced her to release early. Her magic was not quite aligned and the arrow banked to the side and struck the wall.
Anger flickered on Valravn's features as she again missed. Before she could draw another arrow he was upon her. With Andric and Kell pursuing him, he drove Valravn back toward the wall. She used her bow to deflect his attacks, but was helpless to strike back or escape.
Tryton drove her to the wall and then struck from the right. She retreated left, right into his fist. It struck her in the side of the face and she went down, hard. Tryton just had time to kick the bow out of her hands before whirling to Kell and Andric.
They attacked together, and for several seconds he could only block and dodge. Then he found an opening and extended his greatsword into the gap. The sword cut a shallow line across Andric's chest.
Kell took advantage of Tryton's focus to leap forward with his own sword—but Tryton sucked in his gut and the blade passed a hairsbreadth in front of his stomach. As he retreated, he caught Kell's sword hand. With a twisting yank, he threw him at his sister, who was reaching for her bow. Kell crashed into her, knocking them both down.
"You should have left the bow, Ravn," Tryton admonished. "You could have struck at my back when I was forced to engage your brother."
Tryton spoke without taking his gaze from Andric, and devoted his whole skill to defying his eldest. Andric attacked with a ferocious series of blows, forcing Tryton toward the very wall he'd driven Valravn into. Then Tryton sidestepped, allowing the hammerblade to strike the wall. Bits of rock pelted his shoulder as the stone shattered.
Tryton aimed a strike intended to pierce Andric's chest. Straining to evade the blow, Andric just managed to twist his body in time—but all his weight was on his back leg. Tryton halted his momentum and used his hilt to strike Andric's cheek.
At ten feet tall and layered in muscle, Andric had withstood blows from giants. This time he was knocked sprawling. He recovered, but not before Tryton leapt past him, extending his sword to nick his chest as he passed. Growling in irritation, Andric withdrew.
Tryton charged at Kell and Valravn, but Kell slipped in front of his sister, standing his ground under Tryton's furious assault. Even as Tryton's blade slipped through and sliced his body he did not retreat, giving Valravn the time to unleash two quick arrows.
"Excellent," Tryton said. "You allow her to use her greatest strength and she protects you"
The arrows streaked around the circular room and came at Tryton's back. He tracked their movement in his peripheral vision and crouched just as they reached him. The arrows flew past his ears, one drawing blood as it passed by.
"When a target cannot move an arrow never misses," Tryton called out.
"Then stop moving!" Valravn shouted, drawing a laugh from Andric at the side of the room.
Kell darted forward as Tryton rose to his feet, pressing the advantage. What he lacked in stature he made up for in cunning. His attacks were fluid and subtle, surprising even Tryton as his son sought to breach his defenses.
