“You stake your hope on ancient stories,” Murlox angrily said.
“But even you cannot imagine the horrible things that I have seen in this world and the next. Flar cannot be defeated in this realm. It is not in our nature to seek the King.”
He walked back over to Rainna. Murlox raised his staff over his head. The staff and his hands glowed with red energy. Lightning and thunder roared across the dark sky.
“The words of the Ancient Book are eternal!” Rainna cried out. “They cannot be destroyed! You need only to reach out your hand to the King to be saved!”
“Where is your King?” Murlox sarcastically said. “Why would He not save the Keeper of the Ancient Book? Your faith has failed you. Good-bye, princess.”
Murlox placed his glowing red hand on her stomach. Rainna gasped. Her body was covered in a red haze. She struggled, her eyes and mouth wide open. She tried to speak, to scream, but she could not.
By
Steve Clark and Justin Clark
Based on Characters Created
By Justin Clark
Illustrations
By Alison Fuller
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, please write to: New Horizons Press, an imprint of That Guy Media, LLC, Attention: Permission Department, 26 Nottingham Drive, Cartersville, GA 30121
This book is being published in paperback and e-book format by New Horizons Press,
an imprint of That Guy Media, LLC
Text copyright 2014 by Steven Clark and Justin Clark.
Illustrations copyright 2014 by Alison Fuller
All rights reserved.
Published by New Horizons Press,
an imprint of That Guy Media, LLC.
New Horizons Press, an imprint of That Guy Media, LLC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of New Horizons Press, an imprint of That Guy Media, LLC.
I dedicate this book to my wife, Leslie, and to our editor, Judy Faro. For your support, encouragement and help in making these books a reality.
-S.C.
To Alison Fuller,
for her amazing artwork.
-J.C.
And the Kingdom of the heavens and the evils of this world shall collide in battle….
And lo, the forces of Flar, the evil fire lord, shall make war upon the people who oppose him. He will bring his mighty armies to bear upon the ancient cities. The towers shall fall. The castle walls will tumble under his fiery fist. A mighty beast shall be called forth from the deepest pit and prowl the land. His arms shall be clawed and sharp. Fire shall shoot forth from his mouth. The sky shall darken so that not even the sun or moon may shine through it.
And in these times of tribulation, you, the lost people, shall look for your King and your hearts will believe that he has abandoned you. But I say to you, the lost people, to look to the Kingdom for there is a ray of light. This ray of light can penetrate through any darkness. And then at that hour, the mighty armies of the King shall return to rescue you, his cherished people. His beloved archangel and his faithful soldiers of the light shall descend among you, his cherished people, and they shall be armed for battle, riding on white stallions and driving chariots of gold and silver.
The Prince shall fight the Evil One. Serpents shall strike at the Prince’s sandaled feet, but they will do Him who is good and just no harm. The earth shall swallow the unjust. The Prince shall breathe new life into you, His cherished people, and renew your courage. The waters that He shall bring forth from the heavens shall wash your ways with righteous.
Oh, Rone, my precious city, why do you not heed my words that I give to you? Why must you turn away from your King? Why have you forsaken the prophets that your King has sent to you for countless generations?
For once, you were a beautiful city and all the world looked to you in your splendor and envied your riches. Now, your city is empty. Your souls are hard and barren. Your people have turned away from you. The land no longer produces an abundance of crops.
But Rone, my precious city, even in your despair, in your wicked ways, you can still be restored. For you, His chosen people, shall see the righteousness and glory of the King descend from the Kingdom like a dove and renew His reign of peace and justice. You need only wait and make your watch ready for that time is drawing near.Where there is despair, my beloved people, in your hearts, your Prince shall give you hope. Where there is hate, my beloved people, in your minds, your Prince shall give you peace. For your King, my beloved people, is high above you and His ways are above your ways. From the wasteland and barren
desert, your King has led you forth and He will make for you a beautiful spring.
The wrongs of this generation and of the coming age shall be righted with the words and works of charity of the young. Do not fear their visions or ignore their voices. You, His chosen people, are one in the spirit with your King as the Prince is one in spirit with you. Be one, together, and bound by faith.
And behold, I saw the children of this generation gathered together in unity. And they worshiped their King together, holding in their hands a candle which shown out and its flame was eternal. The Golden Knight and the Keeper of the Great Book had been returned to the children of this generation.
And from within them, the Prince shall come forth and now dwells among us in the lands of our forefathers.
And so the prophecies have been told for countless generations….
Chapter One
The demon roared and pounded its clawed hands against its hairy chest. The creature opened its fanged mouth and a wave of fire shot out. The townspeople ran in terror to avoid being crushed by the monster’s massive feet.
“W-w-we have a really big problem here,” Franco stuttered out. “What is that thing?”
“It is a demon,” the Golden Knight answered. “It has been summoned from the ancient pit.”
“How do you plan on fighting something like that?” Franco questioned. “I hope that armor gives you some kind of special powers or something.”
The Golden Knight drew his sword. He placed his free hand on Franco’s shoulder.
“This is not your battle to fight, Franco,” he said. “Only my weapon can do it harm. Find safety with the others.”
“You do not have to tell me twice,” Franco replied. He gave a slight wave. “Good luck fighting that monster.”
Franco turned and began to amble away. Suddenly, he stopped.
“No,” Franco said, “I won’t leave you.”
“I cannot ask you to put yourself in danger,” the Golden Knight remarked.
“Then do not ask,” Franco replied. He began climbing further up the stone wall onto the next level of the parapet. “I may not be able to hurt that thing, but maybe I can distract it long enough for you to get a clear sword thrust at it. Just wait for my signal.”
“And what signal shall you give?”
“Do not worry,” Franco said with a smile. He bolted away.
“You will know it when you see it.”
“I have never liked signals such as that,” the Golden Knight called out.
The demon trampled across the city. The Golden Knight climbed down the castle wall to the street. He carefully followed. Suddenly, the monster turned and threw a ball of fire at him.
“Shield,” the Golden Knight commanded. A golden shield materialized in his left hand. The fire ball struck the shield and vanished in a cloud of smoke. The demon continued. The Golden Knight began to follow again. Passing one of the burning houses, he heard a child’s cry coming from inside. The Golden Knight entered the doorway.
“Is there someone inside?” he called out through the smoke.
There was a cough from the far corner. The Golden Knight walked through the haze toward the sound. Fire surrounded him, but he felt no heat. There, huddled in the corner, a small, ten-year old boy sat. He had no shoes and his clothes were ragged. There was a wooden cage beside him. Inside the cage, there was a rabbit chewing on grass.
“You must leave and take refuge outside,” the Golden Knight said. “It is not safe for you to be here.”
“I cannot leave my rabbit,” the boy replied, “and I cannot get the cage to open.”
“You would give your very life for this rabbit?” the Golden Knight asked. “He must be a special rabbit then. We shall save him too.”
The Golden Knight struck the cage with his sword. It collapsed into pieces. The boy grabbed the rabbit and cradled it in his arms. He tucked it underneath his shirt. The fire was engulfing the house in flames.
“We’re trapped!” the boy cried out. “We are going to burn!”
The Golden Knight placed his sword in its sheath. He stretched out his armored hands. The wall of fire parted. There was a clear, dirt path now leading out of the house. The Golden Knight and the boy walked harmlessly between the flames and escaped to safety.
“Find your father and mother,” the Golden Knight said.
“Who has sent you,” the boy gasped, “that you can do such powerful things?”
“The King,” the Golden Knight replied. “The creator of all the universe.”
“It’s a she,” the boy said. “My rabbit, I mean. It is a girl. I think she is going to have a bunch of baby rabbits soon.”
The boy turned and ran away. The Golden Knight smiled.
Franco crept along the high castle wall. He had managed to get behind the demon. He looked down at the short sword that Demetrius had given him.
“This is not going to help much against that thing,” he said. He put the sword on his belt. “So it is time to make a little noise.”
Franco raced in front of the demon. He waved his hands wildly and shouted. The monster turned.
“All right,” Franco said to himself. “Something should be happening about now. And this is not it.”
The demon swung his clawed hand and swatted Franco off the castle wall like a house fly. Franco flew through the air, screaming and tumbling as he went. He crashed into a farmer’s cart filled with piles of straw. The Golden Knight raced over to him.
“Are you all right?” the Golden Knight asked, digging Franco out from the pile of straw in the cart.
Franco brushed the straw and dirt from his hair and face. He blew out pieces of straw from his mouth.
“Did you not see the signal?” he gasped. Franco sat up in the cart.
“What signal did you provide?” the Golden Knight asked.
“This signal,” Franco shot back. He waved his arms frantically over his head. “You know, the signal.”
“I did not see it. I was preoccupied with another matter,” the Golden Knight replied. “Are you sure no bones are broken?”
Franco rose to his feet with a slight groan and jumped down from the cart. “I’m not going to ask. You were probably saving some bunny rabbit or something. But do not worry, I will survive,” he remarked. “I have been thrown off more castle walls than just that one.”
“Actually... you have been fortunate,” the Golden Knight said. “When I was a young boy, I played a game where a ball was kicked between two markings on the side of the barn. One day, I was….”
“Not the best time to tell me about life on the farm,” Franco sarcastically replied. “You know, we have a monster walking around destroying the city.”
The demon had trampled his way over to the north wall of Rone.
“Now is our chance,” Franco noted. “I will distract it and you do whatever it is that you need to do.”
“Are you sure that you wish to attempt this action again?” the Golden Knight asked.
“Just remember,” Franco said, waving his hands over his head. “This is the signal.”
Franco darted off toward the castle wall. He began climbing a ladder to the top.
“It leads us further and further away from the cathedral,” the Golden Knight pondered. “Further away from Princess Rainna and the Ancient Book.”
Chapter Two
Marsonee, the mighty archangel, and Flar, the evil fire lord, squared off against one another in the skies over the ancient city of Rone. Dark clouds were beginning to form. Flaming boulders, fired from the fire army’s catapults outside the city, whistled past them. Flar and Marsonee exchanged sword blows, each darting about the sky on their powerful wings.
“You have started this final war which will destroy these ruined people,” Flar roared, his flaming sword locking against Marsonee’s blade.
“There is a peace which may only come after war,” Marsonee replied, “a lasting, eternal peace which will endure.”
“I have given these people security,” Flar said. “I have freed them from the oppression of the King.”
“At what price is your security?” Marsonee retorted. “You have taken their freedom. You have taken their free will.”
“Your promise of free will is only an illusion,” the fire lord replied. “These people are incapable of ruling themselves.”
Their blades locked with an explosion of electricity.
“Even when they were given paradise,” Flar continued, “how quickly and easily they turned away from their King. Time and time again throughout the ages, He has tried to gather the wayward ones onto Himself. Theirs is a history of sin and failure.”
“You tricked them with lies and deceit,” Marsonee replied.
“They will betray you again,” the fire lord said. His eyes glowed a fiery red. “You know in your heart it will be true. The Golden Knight cannot save them. The Keeper cannot save them. Neither can you.”
Marsonee hesitated and slowly backed away.
“You doubt the prophecy, too,” Flar confidently remarked. “You always have doubted the worthiness of these pathetic people ever since the Great Divide was formed. I can give you true power and kingdoms to rule. Turn your back on them before they betray you once again.”
The archangel covered his one ear with his free hand as he tried to block out Flar’s words. Marsonee shook his head in defiance.
“No! Never shall I fail my King!” Marsonee cried out. He rushed forward locking blades once again with the evil fire lord.
~
The King stood on the castle walls staring out at the Great Divide. Near the boundary of the supernatural energy field, thousands of angels had gathered, hovering in winged formation. The Prince approached the King.
“Beshtar and the angels are ready, my King,” he said. “They await your command.”
The King rubbed his white beard. “Long have the people of the physical realm suffered,” the King said. “I have heard the cries of the oppressed, of the widow and the orphaned. And as I freed them from slavery and exile generations ago and brought their forefathers from the desert forth into the promised kingdom, I shall do so again if only they would call on my name. As they have forsaken my prophecies, have they forgotten me, my son?”
“Not forgotten you, my King,” the Prince replied. “You have been hidden from their sight. The words of the Ancient Book have
been twisted and distorted to serve an evil aim. They wait only for a brighter way to be revealed to them once again.”
“Those who wait upon their King shall renew their strength and they shall mount up with wings as eagles,” the King remarked. “I will give them strength so they will not grow weary when they run. I shall make it so they shall not faint in the sweltering heat.”
They began to walk down the castle ramparts.
“They are a hard and stubborn people,” the Prince said. “Even when I myself walked among them, despite all they had heard and the miracles they had seen, so many could still not believe. But there is courage and love in their hearts. It remains.”
“They are made in our very image,” the King replied, “and we have breathed the spirit of life in their bosoms. But they have become trapped by the complexities of the fruit of which they taste. They have forgotten the nature of their spiritual being. All creation can be redeemed. I have never lost faith in that.”
“Shall I command Beshtar to take his army through the Great Divide?” the Prince questioned. “Marsonee and the Golden Knight cannot defeat Flar and his evil alone.”
“No,” the King answered. “It will be the young that will save the old of this generation. When they call on us, only then shall we come to their aid.”
Flar raised his spiked, armored hand.
“Marsonee, let us see how well you deal with fire,” Flar roared. Flames shot out of Flar’s hand.
Marsonee stretched out his arm. A wall of sparkling water formed in front of him. The dark fire slammed into the water. Immediately, the fire evaporated into steam. Flar blasted away at Marsonee’s defense to no avail. Frustrated by his inability to break the wall of water, Flar stopped his fiery assault. The sparkling water disappeared.
“Your evil ways cannot compare to the greatness of the King,” the archangel said.
Flar surged forward and locked blades with Marsonee. The fire lord was still strong and powerful. Marsonee grimaced with determination to keep Flar from pushing him back. Sweat began to form on the archangel’s forehead.
“Do you tire, Marsonee?” Flar taunted. “I am not bound by the limitations of this realm as you are.”
“I shall not tire,” Marsonee remarked through clenched teeth, “so long as you exist in this world.”