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Anthemia: Kingdom of Heroes

Prologue

Alder raced hand-in-hand with Sylvia through the dappled sunlight of Sanctuary forest. They had not heard the yelling of pursuing soldiers for several minutes, so Alder began slowing down, even though he knew their peril was far from over. He came to a halt, turning to his wife, about to suppose what they do, when the earth shook violently beneath them. The couple was knocked to their feet, and the tree line to their right rose in an upheaval of earth and roots. Alder was already breathless from their flight, and now the air was crushed out of him again. By the time he had recovered enough to sit up and turn to look behind him, what he feared had caused the earthquake was crashing through the forest toward him.
A look of terror passed over Sylvia’s face as she, too, spotted the monster. Alder groaned and grimaced as kneeled to stand. He wasn’t old, but his exhaustion, open wound and bruised body pained him in a manner he guessed was similar to the elder, but he couldn’t give up yet. Too much that he loved was at stake here. Alder pictured the peaceful valley and city of Anthemia, tucked among the mountains behind him. He remembered all close friends there. He remembered his sons, David and Anthony at home, and how he had played catch with the Cocoball with them. Images of Raleigh set to rest on its hillside and the farmlands surrounding it flashed through his mind, too. It could all be destroyed if this failed. He rose to stand as the monster marched to the top of the new cliff looming above them.

Alder withdrew a tattered leather-bound book from behind his breastplate. It transformed into a blade in his hand. The texture under his fingers shifted from soft leather to hard steel. The blade shone white. The shadow beast glared down at the vulnerable couple with solid black eyes of malice. It was a ten-foot hunk of ugly, matted black fur and muscle. It walked hunched over on four-limbs. It had a hideous humanoid face with a flattened noise and long protruding fangs.
The beast, an embodiment of nightmares, advanced by leaping off the cliff over their heads. It landed with a crash that created another tremor. Sylvia was bounced from the ground and slammed back down onto it. She winced, curled into a fetal position, and tears flowed down her cheeks. Alder barely held a standing position, having braced himself for the impact.
With a confident shout, Alder rushed the beast. He got close to it. Then the beast thrust down its fisted talons. Alder dove into a skillful somersault. Now he was under the beast’s stomach right where he wanted. The creature was ready to defend itself. It rose up on its front legs and kicked its back legs forward. Alder was sent flying and slammed into the cliff. He crumbled to the ground unconscious. The beast lugged to gather up his prize to take back to his master. The creature was oblivious to Sylvia turning off her tears like a faucet, while she displayed a sly smile. She silently rose to her feet and drew her own glowing blade. Right as the shadow beast was going to reach down and pick up Alder to carry on his back, Sylvia held her sword over her head and drove it into the monster’s back.
The creature glared over its shoulder, knowing it was slayed but wanting to see its destroyer. With a ghostly sigh, the beast slowly dissolved into ash blown on the wind. Alder woke up just in time to witness her spectacle. She helped him stand.
“Thank-you,” he breathed, “I am so grateful you’re here.”
She smiled shyly, “I guess it’s a blessing and a curse you can’t keep me home from these things.”
“Indeed, it is,” he smiled back and reached up his hand to push back a strand of her dark hair. Loud and angry shouts resounded in the distance.
“Listen, dear, you have to take it,” he explained. He rushed to their satchel they had dropped in the tremor and withdrew a strangely carved stone, painted a menacing black and red between its natural smoky gray.
“Shh, put that back. They can’t see it,” Sylvia scolded.
“No, we know they know we have it. There’s no hiding it, and both of us can’t outrun them much longer. Take it, run as fast and as far as you can; I know you’re tired, but just a little longer. I’m going to keep the satchel and hold them off as long as I can. When you know you’re out of their reach, get rid of it. Throw it in a river, smash it, destroy it, hide it well, anything to ensure they don’t find it. Whatever you do, don’t take it to the gate and use it.”
Sylvia nodded hesitantly, “But Alder, I’m not leaving you. They’ll kill you.”
“I know, but otherwise they win. It’s all lost. I know we said that if we go, it’d be both of us, but for the mission to succeed you have to escape. Plus, if you make it home somehow, you can go back to David and Anthony.”
“If you say so. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Fox, I love you, too.”
Alder and Sylvia shared one last kiss. Then Sylvia grasped the stone key and ran without looking back. Alder turned to hold off the enemy. He gathered his Chronicle from the ground, brushing dust off the book. He knelt to collect the satchel, and he placed his Chronicle in it. Unless this battle went better than he expected, he would not need it. He fought back tears. He lifted his gaze to see the Helper standing before him.
“Are you ready, Alder?” the white-robed man asked. Alder felt a foreboding essence to it.
Alder was grateful he had an odd peace when he answered, “Yes, I am. It will be a different kind of going home, but I’m ready. If that’s where this leads.”
“Good, continue fighting faithfully as you have. A lot still rests on this battle.”
Alder nodded wearily. He fingered the sword hilt of his more traditional blade. He had been an experienced warrior for years, but now, his career of slaying for his kingdom on the battlefield no longer felt as noble. A sense of guilt filled him, that the life of violence he had led was not his best contribution to the world. If could do it over again, he would have sought a way to peace without the violence. However, in war, it was a crazy dream. Maybe one day someone would make it a reality.
The Helper sensed his hesitation.
“Do I have to take Pyrescar for this?” Alder asked.
The Helper nodded, “Even though you are going to fight this battle differently than your others, still bring it.”
The cries of enemies grew closer. “Let’s run,” the Helper rallied.
Alder smiled. He had long ran beside this person as his comfort, and he was ready to run again, even if this time, it was toward fatal danger. They ran side by side, and as they did, Alder felt his strength revive. When the red and black clad soldiers came into view, the Helper vanished in a gust that became Alder’s second wind.
He called out to get the Kriterians’ attention, and their intimidating unseeing helmets turned towards him. The helmets were interlacing red and black, with pointed edges and top with a cross-shaped hole in their center, but it left none of the face visible. Alder had the advantage of running with only light chainmail and no head gear. They wheeled to chase him. Alder vaulted over rocks like ramps. Ducked under branches. Bounded over streams. He relished the run and prolonged it as long as he could. When a soldier broke from the brush in his path, he slid on his knees as drew his lattice blade. The sword sliced the soldier’s shins, and Alder rose to keep running in one fluid motion.
He thought he was in the clear, until a flurry of wind and leaves in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He slowed but did not stop. Though he did cast a quick glance to his right, he already feared who it was. A black portal was rendered in the air, through which Alder could see the scorched battlefield and cries of pain from the war Alder had escaped. Lucin stepped through the portal, wiping his blood-stained obsidian blade on his white robes. That should have left the robes stained, but the red faded again to white on the impervious cloth. Alder kept running, but he knew now that this sorcerer was here, the chase would not last long.
Alder tried to run past Lucin, but Lucin approached Alder’s mad dash at a leisurely pace. They grew closer and closer, as if time slowed around Alder at Lucin’s command. Maybe he was imagining it as dehydration started making its mark on him, or maybe that was exactly the spell Lucin was weaving. In a couple minutes, Lucin stood in Alder’s path and this is where Alder knew he must stop. In another moment thirty Kriterian soldiers circled him.
Alphius, the second-command of Kriteria, stepped in to stand beside Lucin at the circle’s head. Lucin stood out among the dark-clad soldiers, his soft white garments glistening in the sunlight along with his pale blonde hair. He was beautiful and pristine, and it contrasted sharply against the bloody, dirty, sweating soldiers around him. Alphius was in lighter armor, held a mace rather than a sword, and was less worn and tattered, but any man seemed dim compared to Lucin.
“Alder, surrender the key to me, now,” Lucin commanded.
“You know I’d rather die, than give it to you and let you destroy Anthemia,” Alder defied.
“Where is it, Alder?” Lucin hissed.
“It’s in here,” Alder lifted the satchel.
“Last chance, give it to me,” Lucin threatened.
“You are hopelessly outnumbered, and you know Lucin’s power. Surrender,” Alphius ordered.
Alder did know Lucin’s power, but he knew the power of his High King was greater. Alder was about to defy them again, raise a courageous battle cry and challenge them to all come and take the key from his dead body. It was what he would have done, but now he was beginning to see that the battles of metal swords and valor on the frontlines, were not his most important war to fight. Surrender is exactly what he needed to do, not to these villains, but to the will of his King.
Alder unstrapped the belt and sword hilt from his waist. He held it by his side. The soldiers shuffled uncomfortably, and Lucin arched an eyebrow. Alphius looked perplexed as Alder addressed him, “You’re right Alphius. I do know Lucin’s power. I know it is oppressive and manipulative. I know he is our enemy. He is my only enemy here.”
Alder turned in a circle proclaiming to the ring of Kriterians, “He is your enemy, too. I know you live everyday in fear of the oppression of Lucin and your kings and leaders. You never dreamed of anything but obeying their bidding, because you feared what they would do to you if you didn’t.”
“This is insane, Alder. Stop talking to them as if you’re on the same side. They are Kriterians, the ones who brought war to your home,” Lucin outstretched his hand toward Alder’s head. A flash of light blinded Alder. When he opened his eyes again, he was kneeling on a smoking battlefield. A corpse lay slain before him. Lucin’s voice echoed around him.
“They killed you comrades, your friends.” Alder looked down to see the face of his friend Rufus, staring up at him from glazed eyes. The scene shifted again. Alder was outside his home in Raleigh. He was hugging Sylvia, and comforting a little boy, asking why his father had to leave again.
“They tore you away from your family. Their people have brought centuries of suffering to the people of Raleigh…” A series of flashes of swords disremembering bodies, heads decapitated, screaming and crying rang over images of red and black clad soldiers marching into burning villages.
A flash of light shone again, and Alder was back in the forest. His head was split with sudden pain. Lucin was standing before him still speaking, “centuries of suffering to the people of Raleigh. They are your enemy, Alder.”
Alder surveyed the soldiers and they too were reeling from Lucin’s mind games.
“No,” Alder whispered, looking Lucin in the eyes. “You have trapped me in those lies for too long, and them, too.”
Alder dropped his hilt and sword to the ground. He circled again to speak to the soldiers, “You do have a choice, to break free from Lucin’s power. To escape the fear, and the pain, and the guilt, and fight for good rather than evil.” He turned back to Lucin and Alphius. “I am done fighting the wrong wars.”
Lucin chuckled, “So, be it, you fool. You’re subjecting Anthemia to destruction as you said. Enough of this nonsense. Take the satchel from him.” Lucin ordered.
At first no one moved, then one guard broke from the circle and approached Alder. Alder looked up at the menacing helmeted figure standing before him, but the guard did not reach for the satchel. He stood in front of Alder, and he could hear hollow breathing through the helmet. Then the Kriterian lifted his helmet off, and Alder was left face to face with a middle-aged, exhausted and war-weary man, with smooth tan skin. They were different ethnicities, different kingdoms, ones that were supposed to hate each other, but in that moment they shared one thing. They were sick of the fighting. They wanted peace. A black choking scarf was wound around his neck, and as he unwrapped it, he spoke as if this he was freeing his esophagus to be able to speak out for the first time.
“I’m done fighting and serving evil purposes I don’t support. If here stands a man who is willing to give up his life as an example of the breaking from the wrong side, I’m going to stand with him.”
The Kriterian drew his wicked curved blade, “Lucin, if you want that key, you’ll have to go through me,” the soldiers challenged, turning to face the sorcerer.
Lucin scoffed, “I won’t have to. Any of the rest of you, get the satchel, I’m losing my patience.”
Another soldier moved into the circle, but he too lifted off his helmet, set it at his feet, and drew his sword. One-by-one, half of the soldiers once closing Alder in as hostiles, surrounded him in a protective circle. The remaining soldiers stood rigid, either unsure of their service under Lucin, but scared to move, or firm in their alliance but too scared to challenge their converted brethren. Alder was already stunned by the one Kriterian standing on his side, but he was even more awestruck when this transpired. Lucin was equally flabbergasted.
“You all know you’re not going to win this. It’s a noble sentiment, but it ends in defeat,” he informed in a restrained tone. Alder could just sense a tremble in his voice.
“I’d rather die on the right side than serve evil and live old!” A voice blasted from Alder’s comrades.
Alder turned at a tap on his shoulder. The Helper moved from standing behind Alder, to kneeling to lift Alder’s sword scabbard. Alder turned, and from his kneel, the Helper lifted up the blade. Alder sighed, discouraged, even though this final battle was greater than he ever could have imagined, it was still going to end in bloodshed. He grasped the scabbard in one hand and the sword hilt in his other. As the blade was unsheathed light reflected powerfully from it, and the guilt Alder just felt faded. A peace from the Helper’s consent eased his conscience. The adrenaline he had long loved as a skilled warrior was finally paired with confidence in the battle’s ordinance.
Alder marched forward to break out of the Kriterians’ circle. He traced his thumb over a switch that flowed through a series of notches in his blade. The spaces in the blade ignited with fire. He stared Lucin down but spoke to his new division. “Today you break from Lucin’s spell and join the forces of Alvator. You now fight for the survival of Anthemia. For the High King, for Anthemia, for His glory!”
The first soldier to turn shouted, “For the High King!”
A few more bellowed, “For Anthemia!”
Alder and all of them declared, “For His glory!”
“Blasphemers!” Lucin screamed, swinging his obsidian blade. He pointed it dead ahead to signal his followers should advance. Alphius rushed forward mace swinging. Kriterians dispersed from around Alder to challenge their old comrades. Alder and Lucin never broke eye contact, and Alder ran at Lucin holding nothing back. Lucin gathered black and purple smoke in his fists. Then he shot out tendrils of ominous gas at Alder. Alder swiped his blazing sword through the onslaught of shadows. The blazing sword caught fire to the gas, catching Alder in a small explosion. The fire also sailed back through the tendrils. Both Alder and Lucin were set sprawling. The air shuddered with the impact of the explosion.
Alder rolled out of the way of a Kriterian’s blade. He regathered his sword and jumped to his feet. He knocked the man’s sword from his hand. He then melted his fiery sword through thick armor. The soldier’s skin caught flame. The man screamed in agony. Alder withdrew the blade. The air reeked of singed flesh. The man crumbled. Alder did not look down but scanned the ensuing fray for Lucin. The sorcerer was lifting a helmetless fighter into the air with a dark tendril. The black threads creeping up his body were beginning to choke him. Alder ran to help, but the life had been squeezed out of him before Alder could get there.
Lucin utilized the space between him and Alder to launch a fiery purple arrow out of the sleeve of his cloak. The arrow narrowly missed, but the heat incinerated Alder’s shoulder blade, and tingled the skin. Alder reached for the Chronicle in his breastplate, but it was not there. He knew it must have fallen out in the explosion. Without it he could not block these fiery darts. He scanned the battle, dodging more of Lucin’s arrows as he ran. Alder slayed another Kriterian as he searched. Half of the soldiers lay dead at this point.
Alder finally spotted his Chronicle propped up against a nearby tree. He turned and sprinted for his life to retrieve it. A cold grip clasped his right ankle. He was lifted into the air and slammed violently down. Alder groaned and turned over to see his ankle tied to Lucin in another black thread. Alder turned back over and crawled to reach the book that was only a few feet away. Right as it was in reach, an agonizing pain seared his lower body. Purple flames started dancing up his back. He fought not to pass out, as he grabbed the Chronicle. The purple flames were extinguished as soon as he touched the book, its magic protecting and healing him. Alder turned over. His back still stung a little, but he prepared to keep fighting.
Lucin approached him, still frustrated, but still too relaxed for this intense of a battle. It was like this kind of slaughter was his everyday stroll down the lane. Alder rose on shaky legs, taking all his strength just to do that much, but as he did, a glowing shield materialized on his left arm. The Chronicle turned into a sword again in his right hand. He had little energy left, but somehow he forced his legs forward into a run. Lucin was now caught off-guard. He shot more purple arrows. Each bounced off the shield. He shot faster and faster, but with no success. The villain’s terror increased at each step Alder strode.
Lucin just barely drew his obsidian blade in time to block Alder swinging the Chronicle sword. Lucin drew his own Chronicle and it ignited red. Alder drew Pyrescar again. The shield dissipated, but Lucin was on the defense now. Alder and Lucin swung dual blades in amazing skill and speed. Lucin’s anger and fear mounted as Alder’s blows grew increasingly stronger and closer to their mark. Alder sent the obsidian blade flying. Lucin knocked Pyrescar through the air. The rest of the battle died out around them. They each fought the hardest yet. Alder cast the rogue Chronicle blade away from Lucin. Alder was about to have his Chronicle blade held over Lucin’s throat, but Lucin thrust his hand down, and he was enveloped in smoke. The Chronicle cut air, and Lucin was gone from Alder’s sight. A sharp pain tore the back of Alder’s legs. He was knocked to the ground. He found Alphius and his mace towering above him. Lucin reappeared in a cloud of smoke. Lucin dashed to snatch the Chronicle out of Alder’s hand.
“Get the satchel!” Lucin shouted enraged. He looked around at every Kriterian lying dead.
Alphius obeyed. He wrestled the satchel off Alder, but he was horrified to only find a bruised apple and a smashed loaf of bread.
Alder laughed at his victory while Lucin cried out in defeat, “No! His accomplice has it!”
Lucin swung his head around until his gaze rested on Pyrescar. The blade was not burning but was still hot. Lucin planted his foot over Alder’s chest and skimmed the searing blade over Alder’s cheeks. Alder squirmed as his skin burned.
“Where is he!?” Lucin demanded.
Alder laughed both giddy from his triumph and suffering from a delirium of pain, “Gone, you’ll never find the fox. Where the fox hid it. You lost, you lost…”
“No!” Luicn screamed in his tantalizing defeat. He slashed Alder with the hot blade in many shallow strokes. Both Alder and Lucin desecrated those hollowed woods with pained cries. Lucin was still stabbing long after Alder lay dead, his body mangled beyond recognition. Lucin glared down in disgust, wishing he could bring the warrior more pain. He remembered he could. He twisted his hand, the skin of Alder’s body reformed, until it matched the moment right after Lucin’s first cut. Before he could attack again, the Helper covered Alder’s body, and the two of them vanished.
The last thing Alder remembered before he was on the mountaintop, was a distant angry scream. The Helper laid his profusely bleeding body up against a boulder. Alder overlooked a cliff high above Anthemia. Seeing it resting in peace, knowing he and Sylvia by the hand of the Helper had saved it, he too could rest in peace, too. So, he did, and Alder breathed his last. The Helper closed his eyes and took his body away.