Raids, p.1
Raids, page 1
part #3 of The Castillion Chronicles Series
Raids
Book 3 of the Castillion Chronicles
By: A.W. Northcutt
The ReCappening
Fire crackled throughout the Guildhall, casting a warm amber glow over the stone walls while draping a high-back velvet chair in a silhouette. Tiny feet hung over the arm, kicking up and down like a toddler zoned out with a tablet, while a soft hum filled the room with the jaunty melody from a faraway planet. The sound grew louder, morphing into a life of its own as trumpets blared from an invisible orchestra. A goblet thrust into the air, accompanied by a high-pitched, slightly slurred voice, singing the chorus.
“Sweet Caroline! Bum, Bum, Bum!”
The voice shifted into tumbled swearing as the chair leaned backwards, making the person fling their book and drink across the room, while spilling a rich crimson liquid across the marble floor.
“Shit…” Ryne groaned, scrambling to his feet. “If that wine touches the rug Madam Jennet is gonna string me up by my thumbs… Fairy Godmother, my tiny pale ass…”
The Gnome grabbed a rag to form a makeshift levy, diverting Cabernet from the carpet, when he stopped and panned up slowly.
“Oh… you’re here…” Ryne said, straightening himself up to his full four-foot-five-inches while fixing the collar to his robes. “Lazul said you might be stopping by, needing someone to catch you up with all the juicy gossip and naughty secrets happening in the shadows around Hearthmire.”
“Just to start things off in the clear, so you don’t get no misunderstandings, I do not want to be here. I argued against it, because there are tons of people who could tell ya better and, in complete honesty, I was not paying attention half the time anyway,” the Gnome shrugged with a helpless look in his eyes. “But what can I say? I drew the short straw and now you are stuck with me.
“So where should I start this shit show off at? Let’s go to the beginning. If you believe the rumors passed down in myth and legend there was this woman with big poofy honeycomb hair strolling the fairgrounds of a mall parking lot when she stopped at the sight of a carney sporting six-inches of plumber’s crack while fixing the Tilt-A-Whirl.
“What can I say… It was love at first sight and Exium was born nine months later.”
Ryne threw up his hands in self-defense. “Okay, okay. Damn… I went back a little too far. I’ll just go back the past few months then… Geeze, I guess everyone’s tired of an origin story. I even had this wonderful tale about that giant oaf getting bested by a herd of rabid chickens when he was eight, but I guess it is your loss now…”
The Gnome picked up the wine-soaked rag and tossed it into a bucket before flipping his chair upright and took a seat.
“Alrighty then… There once was this Gladiator named Exium, who laid siege to a settlement named Hearthmire. In doing so, he killed my father, my uncle, a douchebag name Scanton, a prick named Berick, and set a shitload of prisoners on fire. Hold on, correction time. Tialha has killed Berick, Zeke has killed Berick, and Shay has killed Berick. Come to think of it, Ex has not really done much to help us with our Berick threat when I lay out the tallies.
“Anyway, where was I? That’s right, our fearless leader set a bunch of helpless prisoners on fire to send a message to anyone around that Hearthmire was under new management that does not tolerate slavery. Most everyone understood and let us be. I say most, because one morning we woke up to a Fae knocking on our doorstep and it was not Lazul.
“Turcery traveled from the not so far away Kingdom of Tolengard at the behest of King Larels. See, some of those prisoners Exium burned all by himself, hailed from that Kingdom and lo-and-behold, their leader did not like the party favors Exium sent them home with. So, he offered us a little ultimatum: come visit Tolengard to work out a new treaty between the two settlements or complete and total annihilation.
“Because of how smart you are, you realize that with me here telling you all this, that second part did not happen, and you would be right.” Ryne held up his finger to prevent any interruptions. “Now, you are saying, there was no way Exium would willingly walk into such an obvious trap. Surely those around him would warn him of that?” Ryne shrugged.
“I tried…. I screamed until my face turned purple and Shay had to use her sleepy handkerchief on me before asking if it smelled like chloroform, but Exium still went on a two-week cruise, dragging me along against my will without any of my clothes. I’m pretty sure that constituted as a kidnapping, but not a single soul cared about that.
“That’s not true, Tahneer cared about it when I told him, but while all of our shit was going on, Exium sent the Chanter on a borderline impossible quest to delve into the Dirmose Labyrinth to find my brother Samuel and the rest of the Hoegardeen clan.”
“Tialha went red in the face, pissed that just after they reconnected, Exium planned on leaving her to clean up his mess while vacationing with royalty. Shay and I were concerned for the Gnomes of Hoegardeen, trying to rebuild their life. And I do not really know what was going through Ex’s head, but it was not compassion, I can promise you that.”
“We used Lazul’s nifty teleport skill to get the rundown of Jesk, the capital city of Tolengard and met some interesting individuals, my favorite being the kitty kit-kit named Grosh. If you ever meet him, make sure to ask to touch his toe-beans. He LOVES that.”
“Our little stroll through town did not go unnoticed, and then an assassin attacked us in the dark-”
“That wasn’t an attack pipsqueak…” Arthenol said, entering the room before bending down to pick up the book on the floor. He held the spine to the firelight, squinted, and read out the title. “Lonely Space Vixens? You’re supposed to hang a sock on the doorknob if you’re in here playing pocket pool.”
“Pocket pool? What are you rambling on about?”
Arthenol shook his head. “Some people have all the luxuries in the world and don’t even realize it. Growing up, my family was so poor, my dad had to cut the pockets out of my pajamas so I would have something to play with on Christmas morning.”
“I- uh…” Ryne’s face dropped, not knowing what to say. “What’s Christmas?”
“Ignore that,” the Assassin said. “What are y’all doing in here?”
“Lazul wanted me to give them the rundown of everything that happened over the last few months. I just got to the part where you threw daggers at us.”
“I threw daggers near you… There is a substantial difference between the two, seeing’s how your phrasing ends up with you impaled as I don’t miss. Did you get to the part where King Larels tried to steal Zeke?”
“No, not-”
“OH! What about when we set Kismet up to take the fall for slaughtering an entire gladius and stealing all their slaves? I loved that part!”
Arthenol started running around the room, slashing his daggers at shadows while rolling across the ground, stopping at an unexpected squish. He tapped at his cloak before pulling a damp section to his nose and sniffed it. “Madame Jennet’s gonna kill you if you stained another rug.”
“How about you mind your own damn business? I’m trying to do something here, unless you rather take over-”
“Fine by me,” Arthenol said, taking the opportunity to plop down in the velvet chair without a care in the world that Ryne already sat there. “Welcome friends! ‘Tis I, Arthenol, the real reason you came by this evening.
“So, Ex was at this dinner with the King and Queen and Gnomey here, while I snuck into this gladius and went full Boondocks Saints on their asses-”
“Get off me! You are crushing my thighs!” Ryne groaned, struggling to slide out from underneath the Assassin.
“Where I come from, people pay decent money to sit exactly where you’re at.”
The Gnome squeezed free, gasping in a breath of air while glaring at the man. “I would not give a copper even if you took coupons.”
“That’s because you don’t know how to have a kinky time.”
“They do not even know why we were sitting at that table with the King and Queen in the first place…”
“Cause the King wanted to buy Exium’s dog. I already went over that.”
“GAH!” Ryne tore at his hair and stormed out of the room, mumbling profanities to himself.
“Huh… I wonder what crawled up his ass and died. Meh, who cares? So, they were sitting at dinner discussing trade agreements between Tolengard and Hearthmire when Exium snuck out to help me rescue Sable’s kids. Oh my god, I love Sable to death. Did Ryne tell you about her yet? No?”
“Okay, so Sable is this lovely Voidling from Detroit or something. I wasn’t really listening cause her beauty had me all spun up and I don’t even swing that way. She was Exium’s attendant while staying in Jesk as guest to King Larels. Well, while we were at the slave auction trying to purchase my Butters, we found out that dick of a King put up Sable’s daughters for sale.
“We weren’t about to have any of that and devised this little plan where Ex would sneak out of dinner, help me with some finishing touches and nap up the little ones to safety. We might’ve picked up a few hundred extra stragglers, but that seems to be a theme with Exium. Don’t worry about it.
“That led to an official appearance before the royal court, where Grosh’s owner got put down like a forgotten stary and Kismet, Captain of the Guard, talked himself into an execution with the help of some planted evidence.
“Even though we considered it a victory, Exium and Lazul planned for retreat while Ryne drank. I wanted to take a vegetable peeler to just about everyone rocking Tolengard colors, but our fearless leader talk ed me out of it.
“On our way out of town with some new boats in hand, Exium gave me the go ahead to leave a parting gift. That’s when I used the biggest bridged-sapphire we had to drop the entire fortune of a Dwarven bloodline on King Larels’ grand palace and snuffed out his wife, right and proper.
“That kicked things off to a whole new level and really stirred up the hornet’s nest, if you know what I mean, but we weren’t done. Ex, Gnomey, and I went back, robbed Tolengard blind, blew up their coliseum, and sank their entire docked fleet. We also snagged a few freed slaves. Let me see,” Arthenol counted on his fingers before shrugging off the futile attempt. “A couple thousand, three max. Hehe, Tialha, was PISSED when we all showed up looking for a couch to crash on.
“Actually, she got over it better than I would’ve if I was in her shoes. Then again, I’d probably have killed Exium long before ever coming to Serra if that were the case. While our fearless leader was off on holiday, Tialha built a legendary pantheon, mushroom houses for all the Gnomes, and started a full-on Industrial Revolution in the blink of an eye. I’d like to say her accomplishments didn’t get overlooked, but the sea of hungry mouths waiting for a plate of food had other intentions.
“We spent the next couple weeks getting Hearthmire prepped for a siege, and I don’t think a single person, even the children, took a break before we hid away all the non-combatants in the ruins of Hoegardeen. When that calm fled away and the storm came-a- raging, we put up one hell of a fight.
“Sable’s sexy ass tossing lightning bolts off Connic’s stampeding back, Butter’s dismembering the demon from Diablo. Hell, even Ryne was running around lobbing off balls of necrotic goodness. He died, but he still got a gold star for trying his best.
“Yeah, you heard me right. Gnomey McGnomepants died along with some of our best. Shay, Ryne, Tahneer, and Exium died when we needed them the most and Tialha stepped up to bear that weight. She used her three cooldowns on the Battle-cleric, Necromancer, and Chanter, but when it came to the love of her life, she pulled the power from deep within and resurrected our fearless leader despite warnings against the idea.
“With our hero back at the reins, Exium sent Tahneer and I to deal with King Larels and his warship with a bunch of pissed-off Gnomes and a charged-up Castilian Shard. Whew-buddy, talk about playing with firecrackers, but my explosion didn’t hold a candle to Exium’s shenanigans.
“That goofy bastard hot-wired a freaking Castilian Core to Hearthmire and set that bitch to hover. With a little bit of clean up here and there, alongside a well-placed Spartan kick off a super high ledge, we found ourselves on a floating island, victorious, and kinda in shock.
“Shit didn’t get weird until Turcery, King Larels’s servant Fae, came a knocking again with a truce in hand. I kinda wish Ex would’ve talked to us a bit before agreeing to any deals, but with temptations of knowledge about what happened to Tialha, I can’t blame the man. I’ve done worse in the name of Butters, so I can see where he was coming from.
“And that pretty much catches us up to today,” Arthenol said, getting up from his chair and started walking towards the door before remembering something.
The Assassin turned around, patted his pocket, and pulled out a small index card while clearing his throat. “This might sound a tad odd, but the author gave me a note to pass on in warning. He says…
“I say some foul things in this story about Kentucky, but before you @ me on TwipperX I want you to spend eleven weeks dealing with the morons at the Pikeville Kentucky Lowes about getting a wood order delivered, then tell me I’m being overly dramatic. Then have your phone number magically change one morning because the idiot clerks working at the Verizon store forgot to check the box that says you want to keep your old number because they were too busy talking about how the drive from Kentucky to Virginia is too long. I know this sounds like a rant, that’s because it is, so I’ll wrap this up by saying, that if you find yourself stuck in Louisville, contact FEMA and see if you can get relocated to a safer area like the border between Ukraine and Russia, or the Gaza Strip. Anyway, Fuck Kentucky, I hope you enjoy the book! Love, A.W. Northcutt.”
Arthenol pulled the notecard away from his face and sighed. “Damn… How is that guy going to talk shit about the birthplace of fried chicken? I love me some Kentucky and that’ll never change!”
Prologue
Turcery, Jesk of Tolengard
Shimmers of electricity arced on the horizon just passed Turcery’s grasp, tickling his arousal away from wandering thoughts. For thirteen days he waited over the altar for King Larels’ return. Each moment prolonged until the next, holding mana poised within his fingertips. One mistake, a single blip of his attention and everything would slip into the nether, destroying his plans and worse off, muting the voice of prophecy. Turcery struggled to keep his focus honed for this long, pounding desire for resolution came not from a lack of patience, but from the freedom of Serra looming over him.
If Turcery still held his connection with the cruel guardian of the lost, he would know the instant his prey returned. A bitter laugh breathed off his voice, shaking away the notion. He lived hundreds of lifetimes under the heels of despair, wanting nothing more than his freedom, yet less than two weeks since the shackles dropped, he missed that dreadful tie.
His eyes narrowed in anticipation, feeling the shock of lightning draw closer by the moment. Even with the power he drew on for so long gone to his touch, the strands of fate called to him, whispering sounds of preparation and warning. Dark clouds gathered, casting an eerie glow on the desolate landscape. The air crackled with electric energy, filling his nostrils with the scent of impending rain. A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the silence, sending shivers down his spine. His heart raced, pounding against his chest as if it too sensed the impending storm.
“Altulacus, shanron rue dauh.”
The ancient words almost trembled off Turcery’s lips in excitement, knowing the time had come.
“Altulacus, shanron rue dauh.”
Turcery’s hands raised above his head. The midnight cloak rolled down his wrist, revealing deep trenches scored through muscle into hardened bone. Pale skin took on the hue of crimson melding with violent abandon as static grew into sparks. First between his left thumb and forefinger, then arced across his body, lifting him from the ground. A sphere of light expanded from the Fae’s core, engrossing the altar inside a magical prison.
“Altulacus, shanron rue dauh.”
As the words were thrice spoken, the air around Turcery snapping with an intense energy. Waves of raw, unbridled power surged forth, swirling, and pulsating with an unstoppable force. The atmosphere seemed to tremble with the sheer intensity of the emotions channeled through Turcery’s command.
The energy, like a relentless tide, grew in strength, its ferocity surpassing that of a raging fire. It consumed the surroundings, devouring the very essence of the air, as if feeding off the emotions that fueled it. The ground beneath Turcery’s feet quivered, unable to withstand the sheer power being unleashed.
With each passing moment, the energy intensified, its chaotic dance becoming more frenzied. The air sizzled with an electric charge, and the space around Turcery seemed to distort, as if reality itself was being twisted and molded by his command.
In a blinding burst of light, a golden flash erupted from the epicenter of the energy. It illuminated the area, casting long, eerie shadows against the walls. The brilliance of the golden hue was mesmerizing, as if it held within it a fragment of the sun’s radiance.
Amidst the blinding light, a silhouette emerged, gradually taking the form of a man. Kneeling in an almost reverent pose, he appeared frozen in time, held in stasis by the sheer might of Turcery’s command. The golden light bathed the figure, casting a divine glow upon his features.
It was a sight both breathtaking and awe-inspiring, witnessing the culmination of Turcery’s power. The air hung heavy with anticipation, as if the very fabric of reality held its breath, awaiting the next move in this mystical display of energy and control.
Confused and worried eyes met the Fae’s sinister gaze. A burst of anger rippled through the ward, accompanied by a shout of festered hate.
