The Realmsic Conquest: The Hero of Legend

It was the first time Damian had actually seen the Realmsic Castle with his own eyes. Wanting to gain a better view, he balanced effortlessly in the saddle of his silver panther. At his urging, the panther bounded up a steep hill near the castle’s west side, overlooking the battlefield. Dismounting, Damian slid down the animal’s smooth body. His feet thudded onto the ground. Walking to the very edge of the cliff, he stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him.

  The glare of the sun had transformed the day’s blue sky into a crimson color, fitting for war. By the thousands, his Legion swarmed the kingdom’s forces, like tidewater eroding sand. Fireballs sailed through the sky, before pummeling the ground with deadly force. Plumes of fire erupted along the castle’s towers, and smoke trailed into the sky like souls escaping the earth. Its walls swayed from the pounding. But Damian knew that the castle’s structure was fused with magic that kept it intact. As battered as it would become, it would never fall.

  The Warlord’s long silver hair felt weighted with the smoky air. He relished the aroma of burnt ashes. This, he decided, was his greatest moment. Feeling the raw energy of the Realm’s magic pulsing through his body—through his core—he wished he could hold this moment for life. Here, among wide-scale destruction and death, he’d never felt so alive.

  Damian didn’t flinch when he heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. He’d felt the presence of General Thane and his men long before they were in range for him to hear. The other men kept their distance from Damian, but Thane dismounted and walked towards him. That’s what he liked most about the General, he often threw caution to the wind.

  “Look at it,” Damian called out, “a kingdom that has withstood the test of endless conquests could not withstand the test of me.”

  Thane stood next to Damian and observed the battle’s progress. “My Lord, there,” he pointed to a cluster of Realmsic soldiers engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Legionaries. “The weakest point of their formation appears to be the left side. Our ranks could target that location and shatter their position.”

  Damian laughed. “That’s of no consequence. Our numbers alone will defeat them. The battlefield strategies of the Realmsic Commanders are predictably standard to those of their predecessors. I’ve studied the Realm’s history and their war strategies, and I already know what their army is going to do.”

  “Yet, they fight harder than any force we’ve seen thus far,” Thane rebutted.

  “They only delay the inevitable,” Damian replied. A particular soldier on the field caught his attention. Perhaps it was the soldier’s skilled swordsmanship or the dingy glimmer of his metal armor that seemed remarkably out of place amidst the gore of battle.

  Thane followed Damian’s gaze. “Wait, is he...” He stared in disbelief.

  Damian smiled. “Indeed he is ... the Realmsic King.”

  Thane huffed his disapproval. “In all my years, I’ve never heard of a royal fighting on the ground with his men. This King is either extremely brave or stupid.”

  Damian’s eyes narrowed, glowering upon the battlefield. “Tell your men to be vigilant. Perhaps this army isn’t so standard after all.”

  • • • • •

  After being shoved away from battle by King Maebus, Khroy urged himself forward outside the castle’s east guard wall. Alone, he tried to focus upon his current task, but his mouth was desert dry, and his mind ached with worry over his friend.

  I abandoned my King.

  But I was following his orders.

  I abandoned my friend.

  But I was honoring his wishes.

  Lost in the turbulence of his emotions, Khroy could no longer tell where along the east exterior guard wall he currently was. Blood plastered his chin. His clothing was soaked with sweat. His own warm blood was a contrast to the chill he felt on his skin. He rooted in his pockets for the message Maebus gave him after their Council meeting. Half-aware of his surroundings, he bumped into Kelm, knocking him to the ground.

  “Grand Wizard,” he said in alarm. “I’m so sorry.” He then noticed that the Wizard’s robe was covered in soot. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I fell earlier,” Kelm said absently.

  Khroy could tell the Wizard was distracted. Kelm’s eyes darted repeatedly from left to right, and he didn’t possess his usual precision focus. Yet, he didn’t seem to be hurt or in danger.

  “Let me help you,” Khroy said, reaching to pull him up from the grass.

  “No, no,” he shooed the Commander’s hands away. After clambering to his feet, he brushed off his robe. “Is Maebus all right? I warned him that it was unnecessary for him to fight.”

  “I told him the same thing. But the King handles himself well in battle.” Khroy began to ask whether he’d seen Maebus from the tower, but realized that the Grand Wizard was back-stepping away from him.

  “My apologies for the abruptness, my friend. But like you, I too have my objectives and must be off,” Kelm yelled, while sprinting backwards. “Complete your tasks! I’ll meet you in the woods afterward, as planned.”

  Kelm disappeared around the curve of the guard wall. Standing alone once again, Khroy resumed examining the crumpled paper from his pocket. After confirming his objective, he began jogging the length of the castle’s massive guard wall. The muffled sounds of battle echoed from the west. Ignoring the urge to join the battle, he rushed to the location specified within the message. As he moved, he focused downward, trying to locate something on the grassy ground, although he was unsure of what exactly to look for.

  After a few minutes, he stopped by the fourth guard tower along the wall, just as the message had indicated. He glanced towards the tower to verify he could not be seen. He imagined the sentries would be vigilantly scanning the nearby eastern hilltops to prevent an ambush. Crouching onto his hands and knees, he roved through the grass; his fingers moving through the individual blades, picking and searching for something unfamiliar or out of place. It didn’t take long for the tips of his fingers to brush against a metal object protruding slightly from the ground. He ripped at the grass.

  “A handle?” he said aloud. “This must be it.”

  He dug his fingers into the earth, removing large clumps of dirt until a handle was exposed. To his surprise, it was attached to a lid. There was no lock, but Khroy was unable to open it.

  Maybe it’s stuck?

  He drew his side weapon. With the tip of his field knife, he wedged the blade into the ground underneath the lid, but found no crease, or crack, or anything resembling a hinge. The lid was apparently deeper in the ground than he realized. However, the metal didn’t seem thick.

  Maybe it can be pierced?

  Using the metal edge of his knife handle, he bashed the lid with all of his strength. His arm vibrated violently from the impact, but there wasn’t as much as a dent on the lid. Rising onto his knees, he took a deep breath and bashed again, and again, and again.

  Nothing!

  Half-squatting on the ground and completely exhausted, he rested both hands on the lid’s surface. Suddenly, the handle began to glow yellow. Startled, he snatched his hands away, but it was too late. The entire lid turned smoldering red as if heated by fire. Then, it disappeared.

  “Oh, fingerprint recognition!” he realized after the lid had vanished. “Kelm must have spellbound the handle to open only with my touch ... would have been nice if someone had told me.”

  Sitting back on his haunches, he bent and reached into the hole left by the lid. Inside was a sealed medium-sized steel container. He removed it and examined it, but discovered nothing unusual about the box. Upon shaking it, he heard the clanking of several objects bouncing against the metal interior. After checking the hole for anything else, Khroy sprang to his feet and carried the box to his next listed location.

  • • • • •

  Within the shadowy reaches outside the castle’s guard wall, a cellar door swung open from the ground. One by one, the Council members climbed out. As a group, t
he nine of them huddled together as the battle waged beyond the castle’s opposite side. They felt vulnerable, and terrified for their lives.

  “We’re out!” said Councilwoman Elva. Since leaving Grand Wizard Kelm, she’d been leading the Council through the secret tunnels that led to their current location. A quick scan of the area revealed they were just beyond the east exterior wall. Elva was the shortest member of the group. But her years of political experience towered above her colleagues. Despite her age, her blue eyes were still sharp and had seen many conflicts during her tenure. Her long gray hair had been tied into a bun, and her stout frame wore nothing but the olive uniform and burgundy cape traditionally worn by all Council members.

  “Great. Does anyone know what we’re supposed to do now?” asked Councilman Ferst. Elva could detect the uncertainty in his voice.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Kelm only stated for us to exit from the sub-east exit and wait.”

  “Wait for what?” snapped Councilman Jawn.

  Elva sighed. “Pleeeeaaase, Councilman. Be patient. I’m sure all will eventually become clear.”

  Jawn, whose face had grown redder with each labored breath from his pinched nose, suddenly shouted. “No! The only thing clear to me is that we’re in the middle of a war, alone!”

  Although thin and lanky, Jawn possessed a sharp tongue and abrasive demeanor. Having served on the Council for three years, he’d found himself at constant odds with most of the group. Many thought him to be disagreeable, yet Elva couldn’t deny his brilliance.

  She knew that he never approved of Maebus’ appointment. Having formed a strong alliance with King Theodo, it was no secret that he envisioned himself as his successor. However, the conflict with Damian severely altered his political aspirations. After Theodo’s abandonment, Jawn easily could have assumed the throne. But like the others, he was frightened of the implications of leadership. He watched as Maebus, a fledgling Councilman, took what should have been his. Elva could only imagine the resentment that Jawn harbored towards Maebus, who in reality had nothing to do with the Councilmen not becoming King.

  “Jawn,” Elva began, “I need you to temper yourself. This is already a stressful situation without your constant attitude.”

  The Councilman’s eyes flared wide. “Don’t tell me about my attitude when—” He stopped mid sentence as a twig snapped nearby, startling all of them.

  A figure suddenly appeared from behind the curve of the guard wall. “Peace, Council, it’s Commander Khroy.”

  Looking like a bear emerging from the shadows, Khroy lumbered toward them. Tension remained high, however.

  With cautious movements, seeming not to want to alarm them further, Khroy held out the metal box he carried.

  “Here,” he handed it to Elva. “Take this.”

  She examined the container but could see nothing special about it. Elva wasn’t even sure how to open it. “What are we to do with it?”

  “Head southward toward the Hellish South Plains. Follow the hidden symbols. The brothers will lead you to safety.”

  “What brothers?” asked Councilman Ferst.

  Khroy’s lips tightened in response.

  Elva replied instead, “It’s probably best if the Commander doesn’t disclose their identities. If any of us were to be captured during our journey, we’d put whoever they are at great risk.”

  “But we’re already at great risk by taking possession of this mystery box!” Jawn interjected, his voice nearly a whine. “And then what are we to do when we get to the Hellish South Plains, Commander?”

  Khroy shook his head. “What I’ve told you is all I know.”

  “So on Maebus’ word alone, we’re to put our lives in jeopardy in the hopes that this… fledgling King knows what he’s doing? This is preposterous!”

  “No. It’s not.” Khroy’s voice was forceful. “The Warlord is shrewd and astute. Therefore, King Maebus wanted not one person to know his entire plan. Yes, the King has asked the unusual ... and the impossible. He’s asked all of us to go against our traditions, maybe even against our own instincts. But it’s imperative that we trust in his guidance, and in ourselves.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Councilwoman Elva interjected. Being a woman of tradition, she too had worries and doubts about Maebus’ unorthodox tactics. However, as the most senior member of the Council, she felt a responsibility to put aside her own emotions to behave as a leader must.

  “This is understandably a tense and delicate situation,” she said. “But as you said, we must trust in each other. As our kingdom has done for thousands of years, we’ll bond together and we, all of us, will follow the instructions that we’ve been provided.” She gazed pointedly at Jawn.

  Khroy walked towards Elva and gently held her hand in both of his, consoling her. “Councilwoman, be leery of those you meet, and be cautious of your surroundings. May peace precede you.”

  “May peace precede you, Commander,” Elva said, feeling a glimmer of hope as their gazes locked.

  Khroy took his leave.

  “Looks like we’ve got quite a journey ahead of us,” she stated. “Please tell me someone packed supplies?”

  “I did,” Landi said, stepping forward. The young Councilwoman reached for her shoulder bag and opened it. “King Maebus’ message instructed me to gather enough supplies for the nine of us. But it obviously didn’t mention anything about traveling toward the Hellish South Plains. I have a good amount of food and a few herbs for medication. But it won’t last the entire foot journey southward. We’ll have to scavenge along the way.”

  “So be it.” Elva placed the mysterious box within Landi’s shoulder bag and tied it closed. “Let’s get moving, people,” she said, dropping her Council cape to the ground. She didn’t want it slowing her down. “We’ll head south through the Centre Forest.”

  • • • • •

  Maebus barely had time to duck his head before the blade scraped across his helmet. It may have been the mitigated impact of the blow or the flicker of flames created by the blade, but he was temporarily stunned. Falling back a couple of steps, he twisted his torso and shoulder. The Legionarie was thrown off balance by Maebus’ maneuver. He stumbled toward him. Trying to break his fall, the soldier jammed his sword in the hard dirt of the field. For a moment, he was stuck. That moment was all King Maebus needed to continue rotating his entire body 360 degrees. He stabbed the point of his sword into the meaty flesh of the man’s stomach. Maebus yanked on the blade to extract it from the Legionarie’s body. Blood gushed in its wake, bringing Maebus no satisfaction from the deed.

  Staggering forward, Maebus scanned the panorama of violence that encircled him. Men from his army, and those of Damian’s Legion, mortally struggled against one another. The soldiers swung swords, maces and axes, grunting and screaming, tearing at one another’s clothing and flesh. Crucifer fireballs crash all around. Maebus’ head throbbed with pain. He felt overwhelmed, unable to comprehend the images his eyes captured. He nearly lost himself within the madness of it all. A frenzy of writhing bodies sprawled on the ground before the Realmsic Castle, which towered behind them like a mountainous peak.

  Damian’s Legion had pushed the Realmsic Army from the boundaries of Centre Pointe to the very guard walls of the Realmsic Castle. Initially, Maebus knew that his forces would lose the battle. However, he stood in disbelief at just how much he had underestimated the Legion of Warriors.

  Out of nowhere, a streak of white lightning pulsed across the crimson sky, just above the highest tower of the castle. He estimated the source of the lightning had been generated somewhere beyond the castle’s northeastern end. It took Maebus a second to recognize what it was. Then he froze, gazing upward. In that still moment, nothing else mattered. He knew that everything he had planned must be in place.

  Upon witnessing the flash, the forces of the Realmsic Army began fighting even more furiously, for they too knew what this was. The lightning stretched like a beam across the sk
y, signaling Kelm’s call for his evacuation.

  But ... I can’t leave my men.

  He spun around, surrounded by carnage and the fury of the struggle. They fought valiantly and died readily for their kingdom, for their families, for him. These men were his family. No greater honor would there be other than to perish, here, with these men. Maebus back-stepped from the lightning. He wanted nothing to do with it. He would not leave his men. He could not.

  “Kkkkkkkgggg Mmmmbbbbssss.” The sound was faint and distant. It grew louder…

  “MMMMaaaabbbbuuussss!”

  Maebus shuddered as something grabbed him. He pivoted sharply, squeezing the hot handle of his sword, ready to engage, ready to end it all. The distorted image before him came into focus.

  It was a face … a familiar face … one of his men … Yes! It was Captain Derwun, the officer he spoke with earlier this very day. The features of Derwun’s face twisted and contorted as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  “KING MAEBUS!”

  Maebus snapped out of his battlefield trance. The fog of his mind cleared.

  “Quickly! You have to go,” the Captain urged.

  “But ... my ... men ...” Maebus shouted.

  The beam of lightning grew stronger, and the wind began blowing harder. The Captain shielded his face from the dust that blew into his eyes.

  “My instructions are to remind you that you also must accept the impossible!”

  “I did not instruct you,” Maebus argued.

  “No sir, you didn’t. My instructions came from the Realmsic Advisor.”

  Maebus lifted his head towards the beam, squinting as the dust clinked against his helmet and stung his face. Kelm and Khroy were waiting for him. His heart pounded heavily as he realized the inevitable defeat he feared had now arrived.

  “Sire,” Captain Derwun screamed over the wind and the clashing of steel. “We believe in you. Go! We’ll continue to fight until we know that you’re safe. And then, as you’ve ordered, we’ll disband.”

  From Maebus’ leather belt pocket, he removed the metal object Kelm had given him during their last conversation. The Grand Wizard created it himself and called it an extractor. Maebus extended his arm and pointed the object toward the sky. Nodding his acceptance to the Captain, he pressed a button on the side of the device. Instantly, a vast beam of lightning shot from where he stood into the sky. Within seconds, it connected to the previous beam.

  In midair, the two beams became one, whipping Maebus right off his feet and into the air.

  “Whoooahhh!” he yelled, holding on to the device handle for dear life.

  Peering down at the battle and the thousands of heads beneath him, he soared through the atmosphere. Maebus was terrified. His feet dangled as the beam carried him further. He squeezed his sweaty palms as tightly as he could, praying not to lose his grip. In the distance, upon a steep hill, stood an animal he’d never seen before. It appeared to be a silver panther. Standing beside it was a man. Even from this distance, he knew who it was. The man on the cliff stepped forward, staring at Maebus. Though distance separated them, he and the Warlord Damian locked gazes for the first time. The figure of Damian grew smaller and smaller as the lightning beam carried Maebus away. Halfway across the castle’s highest command tower, just skimming its peak, he saw the silver panther and several men bound off the hill. Undoubtedly, they were coming for him.

  Chapter Ten