(excerpt) Chapter one: War at Zenith
“With me!” Kegan roared, beckoning to his squadron as he summoned his Raokanian Blade. A great brilliant light spanned from his palm, forming a hilt of a special, meaningful sword. Diamonds and rubies performed intricate patterns on the hilt as the thin, pale blade shot out from the top of the hilt, two spikes were at the foot of the blade, each one pointing to an opposing direction. He pointed it towards a crowd of frightened Zenithites. His throat was coarse as he barked orders to his legion of soldiers as they slew their remaining combatants and ran back to reform with Kegan. He was on the brink of war, bringing bloodshed and mournful deaths across the once sunny and happy walls of Zenith
The walls of Zenith stood high, nearly sixty feet off the ground, about ten feet thick, and made entirely of cold, impenetrable marble. Archers stood mounted on the walls, never missing their mark as a seeming endless supply of arrows took the reigns on the field. They skewered and picked off their prey, which just so happened to be the remaining mercenaries and trained combatants that Kegan and his allies had paid for out of pocket. Kegan scowled. The corner of his eye caught the unmistakably large blade of Aeon cutting and downsizing the dark-skinned Zenithites with incredible ease. He appeared unscathed and uncaring about the remarkable horror around him as his eyes were soft and his face relaxed as he performed his diligent dance pattern of killing off the enemies and resisting soldiers. The living nightmare engulfed Kegan and his soldiers as they fought their way through the unbreakable ranks by force. Kegan bellowed a powerful, shattering battle cry as his Raokanian Blade fully submerged into its four-foot-long sword.
“The archers!” Kegan bellowed as loud as he could, calling to the Bowmen of his group, “aim for the archers!”
They nodded in understanding and began to pluck the strings of their arrows and vomited a trail of unceasing arrows at the defensive missile-projectors off the walls one by one. The easily seeable form of Kegan’s ally Edward jumping twenty feet into the sky made Kegan’s eyes reflexively dart to spot him. His long hair whipped as his pale rapier stabbed into a solider. He swung around and sliced another one that was aiming to finish off the Lunar, clean in half. He glanced to meet Kegan’s gaze and nodded. Brand was not far behind his older brother, tearing apart the army with brutish black sorcery. They scorched and screamed as he sent them into the inevitable, evil place of the Oblivion.
Without warning, Kegan suddenly lunged to stab a Zenithite Warrior and spun around to slice another in two. It was obvious of who had formed the better army—it was the ten, all-powerful Raokanian Warriors, including Kegan himself. He reckoned that even without the help of veterans and mercenaries, which defeat would still fall upon Castle Zenith. But the Walls of Zenith were large and seemingly impossible to break.
The city-state of Zenith was protecting Lethanor, and maybe even Sin. Kegan was leading the Raokanian Army of the Creator to conquer the lethal village. But the Zenithites were inarguably formidable opponents. They were a darker skinned race of Man with crooked weapons and twisted minds that had been renovated by Chaos’s wicked preaching.
Kegan’s blade beheaded a Zenithite before he swung around and killed another. His adrenaline and bloodshed took complete control over his actions. He knew not what he was doing and only relied on his instincts to take over. They did rather well, disposing of the oppressors quickly and slaughtering them with apparent ease.
Zenith was not an easy city to breach. They had built enormous walls fifty feet high and ten feet thick for defensive and peaceful purposes, of course. So they could not have been as stupid as one might think. The gates, Kegan noted, were made of a particular type of gem, so breaching them with brute forces was impossible. In order to access the depths of this city would be difficult... but to conquer it with sorcery...
“Where are the Twins?” Kegan barked, looking back at his legion. A younger man stepped forward out of the rest of the crowd. Only twenty or so men were left of the small army Gariath had given Kegan were left of the three hundred he had started out with. Kegan would not allow any women to fight in the war, despite how angry or infuriated they were that they could not join. A mass force of feminists had revolted violently to Kegan. but after a careful speech, telling about how he was not sexist and only wanted the women to remain in the city of Nahdeim—the place where most of the mercenaries had been taken from—because he thought that they were precious and too valuable to be broken in war, they eventually obliged with gritted teeth.
“Jairus and Jairina are back a little ways away from Zenith with Surgei, sir!” the young soldier shouted over the deafening fighting. “I can lead you to them, if you want!”
“Show me!” Kegan shouted, disposing of a raging Zenithite with a single flick of his wrist.
The soldier ran through the inescapable hoard of Raokanians and Zenithites, disposing of the enemy swiftly, diligently, and efficiently. Kegan was secretly impressed with his skill. Kegan killed however many he could manage without loosing sight of the leading soldier. Kegan was the highest-ranking officer in this war, equal in importance with Aeon and Edward. Surgei, Jairus, and Jairina were far away from the gates of Zenith for a very apparent reason.
Surgei, of course, was a very agile, sufficient sharpshooter with his thrifty rifle. He’d always had a spare scope on him at all times and would use it in war, far away from the battlegrounds to pick off the enemies with bullets. He could, of course, fight head-on with remarkable close-range aim, but he preferred to assassinate from afar. The twins Jairus and Jairina, of course, used large magical varieties of spells, slaughtering dozens of soldiers then and there and were not able to be directly on the battlefield like the sorcerer Brand. They were all very useful, the trio of them.
The soldier stopped on the brink of the battlefield, away from all the fighting an pointed at an erected tent close in the distance. “Right over there, Lord Captain! Captain Surgei as well as the Witch and Warlock Jairina and Jairus are camping over there—can you find the rest of the way?”
Kegan could very visibly see Surgei’s knelt form and the Twins holding hands and most likely casting a spell off in the distance. “What’s your name, soldier?” Kegan asked without looking at him.
“Lamech, sir.”
“Well then,” Kegan said, grinning, “I’m giving you a pay raise and a promotion—if you survive the battle, of course. Good luck, general.” And with that he ran toward his three friends, leaving Lamech behind, looking surprised and happy at the same time.
“Jairus! Jairina!” he shouted, panting heavily. The two small children looked up, and at the same time, a large rock appeared on the battlefield and fell, squashing a few dozen Zenithites with more than four tons of weight.
“Kegan?” Surgei grumbled, glancing up from the kneeling position he was in. “What is it?”
“Nothing to do with you,” he growled menacingly. He glanced at the giant rock that had killed so many. “That didn't squish of our men, did it?” he asked the Twins. Surgei went back to his sniping assassinations, murmuring agitatedly under his breath.
“Don't worry,” Jairus assured him, nodding his little five-year-old head confidently, “we strictly made it land on a hoard of Zenithites.”
“Hmm... Oh, right. Listen: The gates on the walls of Zenith—they’re made of a certain gemstone, I think that it might be less durable than the wall itself. Suppose that it is, would you be able to make it burst—or go away somehow?”
The twins looked at each other nervously and Kegan felt a mental conversation waging in their minds. “We can try—but using a Burst spell at this range would be difficult...”
“Then take some of Surgei’s strength,” Kegan told them, earning a scowling, reproving look from the gunslinger, “just make it happen. If those gates fall then we’ll get a direct passageway into the city. Understand?”
They made a pouting face. “Brand can't help?”
“Brand’s more useful in the field than at support, now just obey and do it!”
They sighed. “Yes, sir.”
Kegan thanked them and ran back to the battle.
The walls of Zenith stood high, nearly sixty feet off the ground, about ten feet thick, and made entirely of cold, impenetrable marble. Archers stood mounted on the walls, never missing their mark as a seeming endless supply of arrows took the reigns on the field. They skewered and picked off their prey, which just so happened to be the remaining mercenaries and trained combatants that Kegan and his allies had paid for out of pocket. Kegan scowled. The corner of his eye caught the unmistakably large blade of Aeon cutting and downsizing the dark-skinned Zenithites with incredible ease. He appeared unscathed and uncaring about the remarkable horror around him as his eyes were soft and his face relaxed as he performed his diligent dance pattern of killing off the enemies and resisting soldiers. The living nightmare engulfed Kegan and his soldiers as they fought their way through the unbreakable ranks by force. Kegan bellowed a powerful, shattering battle cry as his Raokanian Blade fully submerged into its four-foot-long sword.
“The archers!” Kegan bellowed as loud as he could, calling to the Bowmen of his group, “aim for the archers!”
They nodded in understanding and began to pluck the strings of their arrows and vomited a trail of unceasing arrows at the defensive missile-projectors off the walls one by one. The easily seeable form of Kegan’s ally Edward jumping twenty feet into the sky made Kegan’s eyes reflexively dart to spot him. His long hair whipped as his pale rapier stabbed into a solider. He swung around and sliced another one that was aiming to finish off the Lunar, clean in half. He glanced to meet Kegan’s gaze and nodded. Brand was not far behind his older brother, tearing apart the army with brutish black sorcery. They scorched and screamed as he sent them into the inevitable, evil place of the Oblivion.
Without warning, Kegan suddenly lunged to stab a Zenithite Warrior and spun around to slice another in two. It was obvious of who had formed the better army—it was the ten, all-powerful Raokanian Warriors, including Kegan himself. He reckoned that even without the help of veterans and mercenaries, which defeat would still fall upon Castle Zenith. But the Walls of Zenith were large and seemingly impossible to break.
The city-state of Zenith was protecting Lethanor, and maybe even Sin. Kegan was leading the Raokanian Army of the Creator to conquer the lethal village. But the Zenithites were inarguably formidable opponents. They were a darker skinned race of Man with crooked weapons and twisted minds that had been renovated by Chaos’s wicked preaching.
Kegan’s blade beheaded a Zenithite before he swung around and killed another. His adrenaline and bloodshed took complete control over his actions. He knew not what he was doing and only relied on his instincts to take over. They did rather well, disposing of the oppressors quickly and slaughtering them with apparent ease.
Zenith was not an easy city to breach. They had built enormous walls fifty feet high and ten feet thick for defensive and peaceful purposes, of course. So they could not have been as stupid as one might think. The gates, Kegan noted, were made of a particular type of gem, so breaching them with brute forces was impossible. In order to access the depths of this city would be difficult... but to conquer it with sorcery...
“Where are the Twins?” Kegan barked, looking back at his legion. A younger man stepped forward out of the rest of the crowd. Only twenty or so men were left of the small army Gariath had given Kegan were left of the three hundred he had started out with. Kegan would not allow any women to fight in the war, despite how angry or infuriated they were that they could not join. A mass force of feminists had revolted violently to Kegan. but after a careful speech, telling about how he was not sexist and only wanted the women to remain in the city of Nahdeim—the place where most of the mercenaries had been taken from—because he thought that they were precious and too valuable to be broken in war, they eventually obliged with gritted teeth.
“Jairus and Jairina are back a little ways away from Zenith with Surgei, sir!” the young soldier shouted over the deafening fighting. “I can lead you to them, if you want!”
“Show me!” Kegan shouted, disposing of a raging Zenithite with a single flick of his wrist.
The soldier ran through the inescapable hoard of Raokanians and Zenithites, disposing of the enemy swiftly, diligently, and efficiently. Kegan was secretly impressed with his skill. Kegan killed however many he could manage without loosing sight of the leading soldier. Kegan was the highest-ranking officer in this war, equal in importance with Aeon and Edward. Surgei, Jairus, and Jairina were far away from the gates of Zenith for a very apparent reason.
Surgei, of course, was a very agile, sufficient sharpshooter with his thrifty rifle. He’d always had a spare scope on him at all times and would use it in war, far away from the battlegrounds to pick off the enemies with bullets. He could, of course, fight head-on with remarkable close-range aim, but he preferred to assassinate from afar. The twins Jairus and Jairina, of course, used large magical varieties of spells, slaughtering dozens of soldiers then and there and were not able to be directly on the battlefield like the sorcerer Brand. They were all very useful, the trio of them.
The soldier stopped on the brink of the battlefield, away from all the fighting an pointed at an erected tent close in the distance. “Right over there, Lord Captain! Captain Surgei as well as the Witch and Warlock Jairina and Jairus are camping over there—can you find the rest of the way?”
Kegan could very visibly see Surgei’s knelt form and the Twins holding hands and most likely casting a spell off in the distance. “What’s your name, soldier?” Kegan asked without looking at him.
“Lamech, sir.”
“Well then,” Kegan said, grinning, “I’m giving you a pay raise and a promotion—if you survive the battle, of course. Good luck, general.” And with that he ran toward his three friends, leaving Lamech behind, looking surprised and happy at the same time.
“Jairus! Jairina!” he shouted, panting heavily. The two small children looked up, and at the same time, a large rock appeared on the battlefield and fell, squashing a few dozen Zenithites with more than four tons of weight.
“Kegan?” Surgei grumbled, glancing up from the kneeling position he was in. “What is it?”
“Nothing to do with you,” he growled menacingly. He glanced at the giant rock that had killed so many. “That didn't squish of our men, did it?” he asked the Twins. Surgei went back to his sniping assassinations, murmuring agitatedly under his breath.
“Don't worry,” Jairus assured him, nodding his little five-year-old head confidently, “we strictly made it land on a hoard of Zenithites.”
“Hmm... Oh, right. Listen: The gates on the walls of Zenith—they’re made of a certain gemstone, I think that it might be less durable than the wall itself. Suppose that it is, would you be able to make it burst—or go away somehow?”
The twins looked at each other nervously and Kegan felt a mental conversation waging in their minds. “We can try—but using a Burst spell at this range would be difficult...”
“Then take some of Surgei’s strength,” Kegan told them, earning a scowling, reproving look from the gunslinger, “just make it happen. If those gates fall then we’ll get a direct passageway into the city. Understand?”
They made a pouting face. “Brand can't help?”
“Brand’s more useful in the field than at support, now just obey and do it!”
They sighed. “Yes, sir.”
Kegan thanked them and ran back to the battle.