The Willbreaker (Book 1) (26 page)

He controlled the power of creation, molding mind and matter into forces for his disposal; the Screechers, bat-like terrors of air, the Kella’Dune, gigantic six-armed creatures also knows as Guardians, and the Hive, the cloned warriors of one mind who protect the castle.

              The Watcher: neither man nor beast, a creature of mixed worlds, warped time, and long abandoned magic. His very existence is a mystery with no known parents or origins. He lives in a world unknown, where time and space are as warped as ocean timber. Some believed his world is a barren wasteland, dry venomous wind whipping across the black ashen hills. Three moons hung somber in the charcoal sky, where illuminated purple clouds blazed hastily by, clearing the entire sky view in only seconds.

              “Watcher, I need to bargain for more Guardians,” her voice sounded out, clear and solid.

              The Watcher snickered as he rattled off words.

              “Guardians, oh Guardians! No simple fee! You got not one, but you got three!”

              Aurora spoke calmly in response. “Three is not enough. I am waging the war of a lifetime and I want to crush my enemies into the ground. I want nothing left for them to stand behind. Everything will be destroyed. I will hammer the world so hard it shakes, sending fear and doubt to all of my enemies. My name will symbolize an unstoppable force. I need more of the Kella’Dune.”

              “A dangerous game you’ve decided to play,

you want the goods but can you pay?

I’ve cleared your vaults for just the three,

what more can you get to give me?

Something you have that I have seen,

I’ve always wanted to bed a Queen.”

              Before the Watcher finished his words, the Empress already spoke.

              “Absolutely not!” Aurora protested. “No way. Forget it. Pick something else.”

              “You see the predicament that we are now in, you want my minions so you can win, but you won’t pay the piper’s price, you gamble a game without your dice. What have you got that I may need, so my armies of Dune you may lead?” He laughed maniacally.

              After a moment of silence, he spoke.

“Your voice reaches here so calm and clear;

it’s in my room and in my ear.

You are gone and stars away,

your sister's life, what do you say?”

              The Hive clones walked on the guard walls surrounding the castle. In unison, they looked over the walls, checking the ground beneath for danger. When cleared, the minions, all of a single mind, moved back to their patrols.

              Aurora’s and the Watcher’s voices faintly floated down from the sole tower in the center of the courtyard. The two rotated in conversation, back and forth, bargaining, for seconds, or hours. At the end of it, Aurora’s final word wisped down throughout the desolate world like a judge’s gavel, “Fine.”

              Brandon walked from the cave, his trexalite swords hanging loosely in his hands, to face a fully armored man with white hair. Brandon took a few steps into the fading light and collapsed. Edward and Jasmine bounded onto the terrace towards Brandon. Donald held his mace defensively staring at the entrance, as more men exited the darkness. They came out slowly, shielding their faces from the last rays of light shooting across the sky, oblivious to Donald, Edward, and Jasmine.

              Edward rushed to Brandon, weary of the two glowing blades that rested on the ground.

              "He's alive, but he's in bad shape. Let us get to him to the water’s edge. He needs water!" Edward said.

              Jasmine stared at his face mournfully, as she rubbed his dirty cheek with the back of her fingers. Her eyes held back the small tears that built up as she watched him. They could see no sign of the Bauth'Dok. Donald rushed up to one of the escaping miners.

              "Where are the Bauth'Dok? Why are they not coming out after you?" Donald urged a miner. The miner looked at Donald as if seeing him for the first time.

              "The Bauth'Dok? They were told to stay down in the caves . . ."

              "By whom?" Donald asked.

              "By . . .
him
." The miner said, pointing at Brandon.

              Donald turned his head to look at Brandon, baffled. The miner joined the rest of the men who walked by Brandon's limp body, thanked him, and headed down the mountain.

              "I have no idea what is going on here, but we have to get Brandon down from here. Let us move." Edward commanded.

              Donald latched his mace to his hip and scooped Brandon up in his arms. Jasmine stayed close enough to watch Brandon's every move. The three followed the line of miners to the base of the mountain. Donald never put Brandon down.

              As they neared the river, Edward cleared a small patch of ground with his feet, and Donald gently set Brandon down.

              "I will get some water and try to catch some fish. Jasmine, would you mind starting a fire?" Edward asked.

              "I'll get right on it," Jasmine replied, already looking for driftwood and fire starter.

              Brandon did not know what happened, or how he got here. He moaned as fatigue overtook him and the nightmares of his experience flooded his mind. The day’s events came to life as he relived them in a haunting nightmare.

              Brandon's back pressed against  the rock building; he had to get to the throne area. He had to kill the Bauth'Dok King if he would ever be free from captivity. Looking around, he noted his position in the city relative to the throne. He needed to move upland. Running across the empty street, Brandon ended up in between the alleyway of two buildings.
One street down, a hundred more to go. Maybe I'll get lucky.

              Brandon turned into the next street as the unworldly blade of the Bauth'Dok King cut like a hot iron through his flesh, ribs, organs, and out his back. The dark, red-skinned creature, wearing the black-bladed crown on his head, withdrew his hand from the sword he buried into Brandon's chest. The pain overwhelmed him until all went numb. Brandon's vision became glazed and unclear as if blinded in light. He looked down at his chest below the slave driver necklace, to see an inch of red-glowing metal between the swords cross guard and his leaking body. Blood soaked his clothes. He tried to take a breath, but the sword that ran through him held his chest tight. Brandon looked at the Bauth'Dok King who hissed and clicked its tongue.

             
"There will be no escaping today, Willbreaker,"
the King said, taking a step back from Brandon.

              Brandon fell down to his knees, arms hanging to his sides as his heart slowed to a stop. The haze around his vision faded into darkness. The sounds of the city around him went quiet.

             
"Die, Willbreaker. Your time has come to an end,"
echoed through his thoughts like a haunted whisper.

              Images of his life raced through Brandon's mind. They appeared then disappeared in an instant, but to Brandon they lasted for hours. He saw Margaret, alive and well, laughing at him as he ran through the rain as a child. Then Matthew putting a handful of worms in Bella Lynn's lunch pail, and his old dog, Maxwell, running through the field retrieving the stick he tossed. The next vision strayed away from his life. He saw the world, as if soaring above it on an eagle; plains, fields, farms, and cities raced beneath him. Villagers with smiling faces and children waved to him as he passed. Golden fields covered the lands. As he flew, the gold turned into ash and flames.

              Trees crackled and toppled under the blanket of fire that ravaged the earth. Homes and shops smoked and burned. People ran from armored knights who bore an embossed letter "A" upon the right corner of their polished chest plates. Men, husbands, brothers, and children, lined the streets in rows on their knees as the Maidens with their bladed staves beheaded them. The Maidens pulled small girls out of their burning houses by their hair and loaded them into transport wagons headed towards Orlimay.

              Brandon flew over the wreckage, over the carnage and chaos, towards Castle Belkin. As he flew over a ridge the castle came to view, its towers broken and collapsed. Fire belched out of the holes in the castle walls. Brandon topped the outside wall where he looked into the courtyard. Lord Cedric Reinhold, on his knees, begged the woman standing before him for the lives of his people. Tears streamed down his face. He pleaded to her with hands together, weeping for the loss of his Kingdom. Brandon stopped on the walls, seeing only the woman's back, whose auburn hair swung freely down her back. Lord Reinhold's cries and pleas softened to muffles as the woman in front of him withdrew a curved long sword. She moved to the left, blocking Brandon's view of Lord Reinhold. She raised the sword above her head, and in a flash, brought it down upon the fallen King. Cedric's head rolled off to the side. His headless body tipped over as blood spilled from the wound. The woman turned and looked right at Brandon.
Aurora
. This would be the future. This is what would happen if Brandon did not intervene.

              Brandon’s life had fallen past the point he could heal, but something inside him lit up with spiritual power. He looked at himself as if he floated outside his body. The Bauth'Dok King stood five feet in front of him, hands on its hips, watching as his body shut down into the sleep of death.

             
If the Red Star fails, fire and ash will overtake the world. Only one may stand against the scorn of the Woman gone mad. The lives of many innocent rest in the hands of the man who can stop death.

              Brandon's power exploded, filling his universe with blinding white light. Power erupted with volcanic force, centered on the trexalite sword that stuck from his chest. Brandon's head rose from its fallen resting place, and looked forward, eyes still closed. His arms moved to the hilt of the trexalite sword. The creature stepped back from Brandon in disbelief.

              Brandon's hands gripped the sword handle and gave a jerk. The sword thrust outward ten inches, grinding against Brandon's bones. Brandon's eyes opened, brilliantly blue, and stared forward as if in a trance. Another jerk and the sword came free. Blood gushed from his body. A simple blink of his eyes and the wound sealed shut. The Bauth'Dok King backup up again.

              Brandon rose, focusing his eyes on the King. He filled with raw energy. His exhaustion and fatigue faded away into nothingness. He felt refreshed, renewed, and young again. The aches that plagued his joints and muscles vanished. Motivation guided him forward, led by his iron will, and moved him with purpose.

              "It is not over, King. My time is just beginning," Brandon said, staring intently at the creature before him. From both sides of the road, in front and behind Brandon, other Bauth'Dok rushed into the street, surrounding him and the Bauth'Dok King. All had weapons drawn, from hammers to the infamous trexalite-tipped staves.

              Although he initially seemed startled, the Blademaster regained his composure, and with a King's confidence, he stepped forward. This turned to a contest between the human who stopped the King from wiping his mind and the leader of the Bauth’Dok. It would be easy for the King to have his minions destroy Brandon, but that would show weakness and fear, and that is something no King wished for.

             
"So be it, Willbreaker. If you wish a fight, call for the Vol-De'Parmo, the Challenge of the King."

              "If that is what I need to do to kill you, then I challenge you King. I challenge you to the Vol-De'Parmo. Do you accept my challenge?"

              The Bauth'Dok King withdrew the second sword still strapped to his back. It mirrored the one Brandon wielded.

              The Bauth'Dok King looked around, and in their language, spoke to all.

             
"The Vol-De'Parmo has been called; a battle to the death. No interference from the outside. The challenged versus the challenger. Are you ready to meet your death, Willbreaker?"

              Brandon readied the sword and nodded to the creature King. The surrounding mob of eyeless, maroon-skinned creatures expanded, forming a large circle where the two could to fight. They clicked furiously, showing support for the challenge and their King.

              Brandon did not hesitate; he whistled the sword through the air into the waiting Blademaster. Red and white sparks exploded when the swords collided as the King intercepted his attack. The King pulled his sword back and swung towards Brandon's body, which Brandon deflected, and again towards Brandon's head. Brandon raised the sword above him to stop the attack that would have beheaded him. The King freed his left hand to backhand Brandon across the face, knocking Brandon off balance and away from the Bauth’Dok master.

              The creature, gripping his sword in both hands, circled around Brandon. Brandon regained his stature, stood up, and attacked. Each hit deflected off the King's blade without effort, and as the King retaliated, his red sword turned into a blur with precise attacks. Brandon tried to remember what he learned about sword fighting, but his opponent differed from everyone he ever sparred. Brandon became aware of the pain as the King circled him. His face, arm, leg, and stomach leaked blood. Brandon's subconscious power pulsed, amplified ten-thousand fold by the metal, the 'first metal,' of the trexalite-bladed sword in his hand, and the small bit still in his pocket. It flooded through him, sealing his wounds instantaneously.

             
"You cannot kill me, Willbreaker. I am Ingtar Bauth’Dok, the original and most powerful of the Bauth'Dok Clan. I am the wielder and master of the Twin Blades. You shall bow before me. I am a God, and you shall bow like everyone else."

              "I bow before no one."

              Brandon filled with rage as he attacked the King again. As he attacked, the King reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping his attack in mid-swing. With his clenched fist, wrapped around the handle of the second blade, the King struck Brandon in the face, causing a two-inch cut underneath Brandon's left eye. Brandon fell back to the building, still holding on to his sword as he tried to catch his breath. The wound underneath his eye closed.

              Brandon charged into the Bauth'Dok King, only to have the King's sword turn the flesh of his ribs into a large gash. Brandon screamed in pain and frustration. The Bauth'Dok King laughed. Brandon growled in agony as the wound on his ribs disappeared.

              "Enough play, Willbreaker. I will end this."

              In a blur of reddish attacks, the Bauth'Dok King schooled Brandon in the art of sword fighting, verifying in full why his people called him Blademaster. His blade flowed like liquid, fluid and effortless, inside of Brandon's guard and around Brandon's defending sword. Brandon backed away as he tried to defend against the onslaught of strikes, but the razor sharp edge of the King's sword continued to slice him. The King attacked and plunged the sword towards Brandon's chest. Brandon thrust his sword upwards, blocking the attack, but the tip of the King's blade caught him underneath the chin, splitting it open. As Brandon fell to the side, trying to avoid any more damage. The Bauth'Dok King rolled the glowing red blade through the air, stabbing and cutting Brandon's back. Brandon crashed into the dirt as his strength gave way to the pain. The King did not ease his attack.

              Ingtar grabbed Brandon around the neck and with one arm, picked him up, and launched him into the side of a rock building. Brandon felt his bones break from the impact with the unforgiving structure. Brandon fought against the pain, trying to stay conscious, as he focused his powers on healing. He could feel his bones pull back into place, and his shredded and bleeding skin closed. Brandon stood and glared at the oncoming Bauth'Dok Blademaster. He glanced at his sword and nodded to it, as if realizing the importance of the power magnification.

              Brandon would not fight this fight anymore. He could not defeat the King in a sword fight. He extended his arms outward from his sides and walked towards the King with open arms. The King did not falter; with a single flick of his wrist, the King simulated an overhand swing but instead faked the attack, plunging the sword into Brandon's chest. The King put his weight behind the blade, forcing the sword to its cross guard. Brandon's eyes flashed white from the burning pain, as he held his life tight within the bounds of his magic. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper.