Unnamed Story: Prologue

Thank you ~A.J. Lyle~ for your useful review



A ball of bright fire rocketed over the heads of the crowd, the orange light dancing over their terrified faces.

“My lord! They are nearing. Shall we seal the city and bring out the mages?” asked the young sergeant.

“Yes, as much as it fills my heart with shame...shame that we cannot keep our lands...shame that the civilians have to migrate south...” replied the aging king, his grey beard covering his mouth as he talked.

“It is not shameful, my lord. It is but a battle that we cannot win. All we can do is try not to lose too much.”

“Fine,” the king replied. He turned to his son, his battle-worn silver armour creaking, and continued, “Give your order for the mages to advance and you may join them. Good luck!”

As the huge column of men, beasts and wagons started to move, a cloud of shining golden sparks erupted from thin air next to the king, and a brown haired solae clad in golden robes and armour appeared.

“So, my friend, you have finally arrived. I thought you and your kin may have forgotten about us.” said the king with a smile creeping across his face.

“Sorry, it took longer to gather my people than expected.”

“Our plan is to hold off the enemy until the migration is well under way, but first we must seal the city.”

Both the kings took off their left vambraces, one golden and the other silver, and started to chant, the air around them starting to crackle, shine, with gold and red flashes of light.

When the air above them was glowing so brightly no-one could look upon it, both kings drew daggers and slashed the back of their wrists, then let the blood drip into separate bowls.

On and on they chanted, until the solae's blood was glowing a shining gold and the human's blood hissed, giving off crimson and blood red light.

The solae then dipped his left index finger into his bowl of glowing, aureate blood and drew an eight pointed star onto the giant gates of the city. He stepped backwards to allow the human past.

The aging human king dipped his right index finger into his bowl of blood and drew a gleaming ruby circle around the star for protection.

They clasped hands and uttered four words of power.

When the words were spoken, both man and solae gasped for air, the glowing red and gold sparks whizzed around them, suddenly vanishing only to reappear as an orb around the city. With one final effort, they spoke the words once more and four gold and red gems encrusted themselves into the eight points of the star on the door, thus the sealing was complete.

“I've never done that before.” remarked the king, “It's a lot more exhausting than it was mentioned in the books...”

The two kings looked at each other for a moment in silence.

Then they burst into laughter.

“Well, my friend, maybe you are just getting old!” said the solae through fits of laughter.

“Now that this is done, let us join the battle. Sergeant, I give the command of my people to Lord Krasian and Lord Theolith. May you aid them well in the journey.” said the aged king.

The stupefied sergeant recovered quickly. “Yes, milords, and I wish you both luck in the upcoming battle. Also, it has been a great honour to serve you.”

The human king smiled and replied, “Thank you, though it will take more than luck to win the battle. It has been a great honour to have been served by you too. Now go, and guide our lords well.”

The sergeant mounted his horse and rode after the column like a man possessed.

“It looks like this is it, old friend,” exclaimed the solae in a despairing voice.

Both kings drew their blades, the solae's gold and the human's a deep red.

“Today we fight as brothers, my old friend. This is a good day to die!” proclaimed the human.

They clasped hands and disappeared in a flash of red and gold sparks.



The kings appeared on a snowy plain in a shower of sparks, surrounded by many mages, solaer and farkas.

“Son, have you seen them yet?” inquired the human king.

“Not yet, Father.”

“Walk with me. I'm sure they are near. I can sense it.” murmured the king.

The kings and prince took a few paces forward only to be confronted by a sudden whoosh of wings! The huge bulk of a scaly, red lizard, mounted by a black haired, pale skinned keilae clad in black, shining leather, drove its claws into the snow as it landed.

“My age old foes. You have decided to fight and stand, and not flee like the sheep I took you for. You will all die tonight.” growled the keilae.

The dragon took off and the prince was forced to yell his answer into the crisp snowy night.

“You will be sorry, keilae, that you ever set eyes upon us!”

But they were long gone.

“Do not worry, my son. They will regret all that they have done to us over the years,” replied the monarch in an understanding voice.

All of a sudden, a mighty roar swept across the plains and the light of thousands of spells raced across the snow towards the awaiting alliance.

The mages and solaer of the alliance faced the spells, casting their own to counter them, sending bright light and sparks flying in all directions.

“Is that all you can throw at us, keilaer? You are weaker than I thought!” cried the prince joyously, only to pale as more spells raced at the alliance, and sparks of many colours erupted in front of the protective charms, keilaer emerging from the rainbow mist.

The protective charms shattered and the defenders drew their weapons.



Tharman rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and turned to the long sleeping Krizs.

“I suppose I could do a couple more pages...” he said, and lit another candle. Krizs snored loudly in reply as Tharman turned the next page and continued to read.



The sergeant rode to the front of the column, where he found Lords Krasian and Theolith clad in black, flanked by two mages lighting the way with spells.

“My lords, you now have the command of the people. If the king does not return within two weeks, you will both be named joint kings.”

The two young lords blinked at each other, then asked: “Why us? Why not the king's own son? Why not some wise, experienced and better person?”

“Well” the sergeant replied, “The king had a vision. He knows what he is doing, no doubts. He said everything would fall into place for our descendants.”

“Say no more, sergeant. Let us march the rest of the night and tomorrow, I think the people can handle it.” announced Lord Krasian.

The mages beside the two lords created the spell signal for the forced march, and Theolith looked over his shoulder and shuddered, seeing the sky behind him engulfed in dragon fire, and the land his people had called home for many years a lake of blood, with many flashes of light as mages tried to out-cast the natural skill of their enemies, ultimately to fail.

He hoped that the king, along with the rest of the alliance, would win the day, though he knew that he would never see the North, or the the king, ever again.



Days later, as the huge column joined the other columns of migrants heading south from the other sealed cities of the north, the northern sky was still ablaze with bright colours. The two brothers, Theolith and Krasian, told the commanders of the other columns that the king had appointed them as regents.

When the single column moved off the next morning, the light of the spells and fire from the battle suddenly vanished from the sky.

Everyone knew that the fight was over. Since they did not know who had emerged as the victor, and they did not want to find out, they continued their fast pace southwards.

Theolith thought to himself: My people are great survivors. We will overcome any obstacle in our path. We march as one, and will stand as one. No one can stop us. We are united and always will be.



On the battlefield the survivors of the alliance prepared for the final wave, which would sweep away their small exhausted force and remaining magic defences. The casualties had been immense for both sides, with millions of corpses littering the ground.

The king lay in the mud, his broken and battered body held in the arms of his son, the solae king holding his hand patiently.

Until the broken man opened his eyes and said to his old friend. “It is time. We knew from the beginning that we couldn't win, but we know now that we cannot lose. “

“Yes, my friend.” replied the solae, tears flowing down his cheeks, “everyone here has decided to fight, to defend the ones we love, none were forced to be here.

“Now let us finish this, before we all die for nothing. All those capable of magic, cast upon me now!

“Use all your magic, make it the greatest spell you have ever created!” continued the solae, his golden robes soiled in blood and dirt.

As the mages chanted the sun rose over the plain, casting a pale pink light over the snow.

The prince saw just how many creatures had died in the past days.

As the mighty spells sunk into the solae, he began to glow in a rainbow of colours, and the mages who had cast the spells collapsed into the snow.

When the last spell entered the solae he discharged half of the power into his old friend. The broken king staggered to his feet, helped by his son.

Then suddenly the two kings plunged their enchanted blades into each other, without so much as a gasp both kings fell to the ground, dead, a look of peace on both of their faces.

The world erupted with white light. The prince was blinded, and cried out in an agonizing loss. He picked up his sword, no longer glowing with crimson light.

“Milord, the weapons are no longer enchanted.” said one of the mages.

After a short moment he added: “I can no longer cast a single spell!”

The prince cursed loudly and attempted to cast a spell.

Nothing.

The prince cursed again and looked into the sky where the dragons were swooping down towards them...

He looked around, and noticed that their foes had vanished.

So had the solae and the farkas.

The ground beneath their feet rumbled, knocking them to the floor, and a creature clawed its way out of the ground.

With the body of a human, the fur and claws of a farka and the wings of a dragon, many more followed out of the crimson red snow.

The mages were stunned. The new race of beasts sniffed at the amazed humans, and charged at them, falling upon them with the lightning agility and savagery of creatures that, in years to come, would never show mercy. The mages were killed before they could even draw their weapons, but the prince managed to unsheathe his blade and kill one before he was ripped apart with a yell.

Thus was a new race born, the most savage of all the races. They were to be known as the Tainted. They are a race created by the blood and flesh of thousands of creatures and enough magic to move mountains.



Tharman turned the page, and commented: “Who was there to say how the Tainted were born?”

He shrugged, and started reading again as Krizs turned over in his sleep.



Back with the column Theolith rejoined his mages and ordered them to cast the spell for light, for in the shadow of the mountains it was very dark indeed.

But none of the mages could conjure up a single spell. Krasian rode over to join them.

“What is wrong, brother? Your mages seem to be flustered.”

“Well, they have good reason.” answered Theolith, “they are unable to create the simplest spell of all...”

Krasian cursed as his attempt to weave a spell failed.

Both brothers drew their enchanted blades on instinct alone. Their swords no longer glowed in the slightest tell-tale sign of magic. Both men realised as one that magic was gone for good from the world.

A new age was emerging, a dark age, an age without magic where only strength would prevail.



The following months were hard for the homeless people. Many people died on the long trip southwards, the dark passes behind them sealing with gusts of snow and ice.

Just as the people were giving up hope of ever finding a new homeland, they emerged from the enormous mountain range, spilling out onto a luscious green plain, surrounded by tall forests, grazing animals dashing away from the newcomers.

For many weeks the people continued across this beautiful paradise.

One evening, as the migrants emerged from a large forest, they were confronted by the sight of a glorious pink sunset over a deep blue sea.

This was the first time any of the migrants had seen the sea. They marveled at its beauty.

But they noticed that deployed before them were two opposing forces. One of the factions, the one with the most troops, was brightly dressed and the other faction wore dark blue, but were heavily outnumbered. Krasian and Theolith, recently named joint kings, rode out of the forest on the top of the hill, followed by the other migrants, to observe.

Down in the valley, the dark blue force were fighting the hardest they could, with extreme courage, but they were losing ground.

When the blue force was barely distinguishable in the thick of the battle, Theolith yelled “Bloody hell! Those are tenacious buggers! I say we head in and help them!”

Krasian cried out, “All those who wish to help these poor men and women in the valley, with me now!”

There was a roar that shook the valley with its ferocity. The ground shook as thousands of horses and riders, needing no more prompting, charged down the hill at full gallop.

The brightly clothed soldiers at the foot of the hill finally noticed the huge force of cavalry galloping down the hill towards them, kicking up huge columns of dust behind them.

When the horsemen neared the soldiers they unleashed a cloud of arrows without slowing.

They all strapped their bows to their back and drew their melee weapons.

The blue clad force was still unaware of the approaching horsemen, but they fought on with renewed vigour as their foes began to lose heart and fall back. Their leader encouraged his troops to press on and attempt to defeat the force many times their size.

There were screams and yells as the migrants drove their horses into the ranks of the already weakened force. The brightly clothed soldiers broke apart and ran for their live only to be crushed by millions of hooves or hunted down like vermin.

Krasian dismounted, followed by Theolith and their guards, approached the tired and depleted blue clad force, and addressed himself to their leader.

“You fight well and bravely, friends, and we would be honoured to welcome you as an ally of our people.”

The dark blue clad leader took a step forwards and replied:

“An ally such as you would be most welcome, noble kings.”

Krasian nodded and continued “The lands to the north of here were empty. Do you not have a people?”

“They escaped to the islands just south of here.” the blue warrior replied.

After a pause, Krasian said “It is good to meet more fellow humans.”

The blue clad warrior nodded, then replied “We must take our leave. It is good to meet you, honourable warriors.” he bowed and prepared his troops for the journey south.



In the years to come the migrants were to set up two sister kingdoms: one which would keep alive the old traditions of horsemanship and the other which would turn to infantry.

Over the years the two newly formed kingdoms fought many a war together against the Empire, never managing to create a peace.

The Empire sent force after force into the newly started kingdoms but never made any ground.

This land was the battleground for many a conflict. Both of the kingdoms set up many combat schools: every boy and girl from the age of six to the age of sixteen had an obligation to go to these schools, so that they were ready in case of a full invasion.

After a number of years the Empire and sister kingdoms had a diplomatic meeting and a stable ceasefire was agreed upon.

In the years that followed, in forming new alliances the kingdoms established themselves well for they knew that the Empire would break the ceasefire-



As Tharman turned the next page, he collapsed with a loud grunt onto his bed and fell asleep.