Paragons: Age of the Awakening Volume II

By J. M. Macchiavelli

War has reached the Highland plateau.

Far into the lands of Norse, General Liam McCabe leads an army to combat the Soshan forces from across the sea, threatening to seize territory from Highland by force and establish a foothold onto their continent. Thinking of loved ones both departed and alive, he charges onward with conviction to not repeat a past mistake, and perhaps, satisfy his demand for vengeance.

In Highland's capital, Pentdrake, the battle against the Morabian Army has just been won. Consumed by troubling thoughts, Quincy questions allegiances while being haunted by thoughts of his homeland. Tasked with tracking down and eliminating this threat to all of Gaia by his Presiding Governance, he joins the Highland campaign marching southward through Southfall; Highland's declaration of war against Morabia, once again. His task being covert in nature, only his highest ranking superiors know his true mission objective...

Braxx, hot on the trail of uncovering more of this unraveling plot, he finds himself face to face with answers he seeks, only to have more questions develop in this discovery's wake. Ordered by his superior, Braxx makes his way southward towards Morabia with an elite army of Highlanders, seeking out the one responsible for attempting to resurrect Velbyx before it's too late...!

Queen Ramia, great seer of Sylphwood, must join the ranks of the mortal races together towards the true impending danger. As if teetering on the precipice, she knows one ill step may spell the doom for them all. Calling upon the forces to counteract this growing threat, her gaze remains fixed upon the stars above her as she prepares for the coming age.

Heroes, new and old, must come together...will they?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. M. Macchiavelli
• Release date: Aug 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370917945

J. M. Macchiavelli

Well-traveled author J.M. Macchiavelli finds comfort within the cultural melting pot of Minneapolis, Minnesota, where he resides. Drawn towards artistic endeavors and deep conversations, his passion for understanding what drives us as individuals and as societies around many parts of the world can be seen evidenced in his works. Possessing a keen intellect, a kind heart, and an appreciation for grit, J.M. Macchiavelli works tirelessly to make his characters as real as possible, having drawn experience from interacting with many people from all walks of life, the world over.

Book preview

Paragons

Age of the Awakening

Volume II

J. M. Macchiavelli

Copyright © 2016 J. M. Macchiavelli

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

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Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

This book, both Volume I and II, are dedicated to Aaron James Larson, who died unexpectedly on June 24th, 2012. My best friend, my brother, the one who never discouraged me…the one who’d stay up late listening to the next chapter I had written, giving me feedback and helping craft this story into something far larger. I no longer get to hear his voice, but I still read these chapters aloud sometimes, and in my mind, he’s there listening along intently, sharing this vision of ours.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1: REFLECTION

Chapter 2: FAR FROM HOME

Chapter 3: FAMILIARITIES

Chapter 4: MORE QUESTIONS, LESS ANSWERS

Chapter 5: FORCES AT WORK

Chapter 6: STRANGER

Chapter 7: CONSEQUENCES

Chapter 8: DISARRAY

Chapter 9: SCARS

Chapter 10: HARD FOUGHT

Chapter 11: BATTLE CRY

Chapter 12: HEARTS

Chapter 13: WAKE

Chapter 14: THOUGHT OUT

Chapter 15: AT ANY COST

PROLOGUE

"Ancient days, forgotten times, words from myth and lore

Neglect no longer consequence of blood spilled before.

Ancient Runes of Paragons, their weapons wield with might,

Descendants way forgotten, have lost their will to fight.

Oh, ancient cry of darkness lord, we answer now your call

To wrest free these powers, to make our enemies fall

Under blade of their own weapons, from powers within these runes,

Mana unrelenting casts the spells to bring their dooms.

I recite the ancient oath, to spill the blood of the sacred

And bring about their annihilation with unrelenting hatred.

Gaia is ours, the verdant green shall be stained scarlet red.

A sacrament, an offering…nourish on enemies dead.

Hunt those Marked, twist their minds into servitude of the Evil One,

Resist and feel the terrible wrath, fire hotter than the sun,

Waters deeper than the ocean, pain beyond imagination,

For the ancient powers of the abyss predate all creation.

With the knowledge hereby possessed the way to Gaia take

To cleanse the realm of all defilers, burn away, purity its wake.

Ancient tree, of star course guide, seed of all life known

Sought, destroyed and burned away, never to be re-grown.

Life shall cease, the dead shall rise, their blades seek recompense,

War consume the mortal lives, their courageous unified pretense

Shall burn away, strand them all on the shores of great despair

Compelling them to servitude, enslavement to the rightful heir.

Chased, I was, into this realm its secrets are now known

And strategy I have to take, for within I hold alone

The way to complete his resurrection, it comes as a surprise

That to come to fruition, it must travel by disguise.

My one bad step, to remain in shadows, a key movement I missed

To hold the world in the palm of your hand, you must first unclench your fist.

Grudge I hold, steadfastly so, cut my timeline down by half…

If failure claims me, this will be told, my legacy, my epitaph.

But I say to you know, all righteous realms, the good-doers of now and before:

I come for you, your lives I shall take, hear it loudly, you’re at war!"

Chapter 1

REFLECTION

Peering outside the window, feeling a gentle breeze, the ground below always felt so distant from this bedroom window. Detached from the citizenry, separate from the common folk; a constant reminder of being part of the Highland nobility. Walking now towards a large mirror at the foot of this bedroom, a long dresser top sprawled before it, as the occupant took a studied look at themself in the well-lit interior of this room.

Her green eyes stared back at her first, showing signs in them of worry for what the future brought her. She knew she would be leaving soon, and the comforts of home would be one of many things she’d be leaving behind her. She broke her gaze for a moment to grab her brush from the dresser top. Its handle made of some cherry colored wood, the bristles soft and fine. She had heard her mother say it was an heirloom from the dragon-folk…the Dragonir. Who they were, she didn’t know. But every time she would brush her hair, it reminded her of her mother.

Taking the brush to her long, dark-chocolate-brunette head of hair, she started from the top and gently ran it through her long, fine strands. She was careful of her braids, to the left side of her face running in horizontal rows above her ear, underneath a layer of her longer hair over it, being mindful to not snag it…the sign of Norse women was the braid. Also being mindful of the earrings in her left ear…the sign of Norse Highlander nobility. Running the brush through her hair, her thoughts now occupied with memories of her mother, she felt a combination of emotions overtake her. Comfort at first, thoughts of how her mother would teach her the ways to be a lady…refined and elegant, Highland nobility had their pride.

A feeling of sorrow then came over her, as she finished running this brush through the last strand of hair on top of her head. Staring into this mirror, she set down the brush and looked at herself closer. Looking at her petite framed body in the mirror, wearing her undergarments only as she was the only one who’d see herself up here, she flexed for a moment in the mirror. Her defined arm muscles grew in size a bit, her abdominal muscles shown through the skin, these four, tightly packed muscles greeted her efforts back, as she looked back up into her face in the mirror again. A confident look was her reward. She worked hard to attain her physique. She wouldn’t end up like her mother.

At a young age, she was bred to be a lady. When her mother and her aunt were kidnapped by the former Regalian regent, Constance, all she could do was worry for her mother. Her father was beside himself…her uncle also. They fought to get them back, but ultimately they lost. Highland was defeated in the Umbraplain…and her mother was used to lure her father and uncle away from where Regalia was really after. It was after this time that both her and her father changed, she thought.

Once her mother died, she made her choice. As a Highland lady of refined upbringing, she was vulnerable. She would forsake her upbringing. She would train to become a fighter. She learned from her uncle, and trained her body daily. Only when her father returned from the campaigns would she remember her place at home, and be the good daughter, the good noblewoman.

Looking at her dresser, she saw the harp her father would play for her. It’s strings shining in that peculiar way, an array of a rainbow, as if every color of the spectrum shone forth in the torchlight if looked at just right, she could hear the same melody in her mind playing to the harmony of her father singing to her. A lullaby since she was very little, it calmed her. She felt safe whenever he played it. She loved that feeling…her father could take away any fear she had. After her mother was killed, her father would play it for her almost every night…her father looked forward to it too, she could tell.

Father was very protective of her. Her mother also…but after losing her, it grew to an extreme. There were times she was isolated up in her room while he was away…the only connection she had to the outside world was through messages by falcons. Her father would be one who would send her messages while he was away, her cousins would also, and her pen pals…the Silvermayne boys, some of the other young noble ladies around her age, and some of the other young cadets at the academy. She tried to keep in touch with them. Her mother, actually, was the one who emphasized she get to know some of the other young noblemen, so that one day, she’d be suited for one of them. After her mother died, she thought it ridiculous to keep on with that being the reason for communicating with them. Instead, she did so simply because she became rather fond of talking to them.

As she thought of the Silvermayne boys again, she noticed a smile on her face in the mirror, before reality hit her again. There was only Jaden Jr. now. Jaddick was killed, and she’d never receive a message from him ever again. She never thought the last one she received would be the final one…somehow, it never seems like it will be…just an abrupt stop to something you grow fond of. She knew she would encounter Jaden at the academy…how would she convey her condolences to him? She had already sent him a message by falcon…and he never replied back. She felt hurt that he didn’t, but she also understood why. It’s not as if they really knew one another, grew up together, any of that.

In fact…the only one she really knew growing up was that nice commoner boy about her age…the one with the spectacles, Marlowe. He was always nosing around the castle grounds, trying to seem busy and get her to talk to him. He wasn’t very strong, he was the worst stable boy at the castle…but she convinced her mother to let him stay. Mother must have taken some pity on her, realizing he was the only one close to her age who she could really speak to.

After mother’s death, her father forbade him from speaking to her. Her father tightened security around the castle, and it became dangerous for him to find ways to talk to her. Still, she was grateful for the company.

One day, she was caught training outside by her father, sparring with the other soldiers. Marlowe stood up for her when her and her father began to argue, and father commanded that he leave at once, never to return. At the sound of her father’s command, she became angry with him and tried to convince him otherwise…but father wouldn’t budge. Father would try to hide that side of himself from her, not wanting her to see the militant side of him…but she knew all about it. She’d also speak to the soldiers guarding her when father was away. They told her all about him and her uncle, their prowess in battle, their victories and defeats alike.

She befriended some of the soldiers, somewhat. She would beg them to spar against her, help her train her combat skills. Over time, she realized that she needed better competition. She could defeat the other soldiers with ease. But she soon found herself pitted against an opponent that was far more than she expected…

Now, as she backed away from the mirror, she placed her tight-fitting royal blue tunic over her body. She had slight curves in the places she should…she was thankful for that. She didn’t want to become so focused on her physical agility and flexibility that she sacrificed her feminine appearance for it. She wanted to still be beautiful. She smiled for a moment in the mirror, her white, pearly smile shone briefly, as she got into a combat stance. Placing her gauntlets on, the same design her uncle used, her spiked, razor sharp claws shone in the mirror for a moment while she gave a few quick jabs.

She gave a confident smile once more, and removed them, setting them on the top of her dresser again. She felt she could stand up to anyone. She wouldn’t be a victim like her mother. If any soldiers, officers, regents or kings came after her, she would fight. She knew how. Same with the only person who bested her.

She wasn’t the only one who lost her mother that day. Her cousin, Valeria, also did. Valeria and her are very close, and when they lost their mothers, they both made a vow to learn how to fight. Both of them trained and fought, competing with each other over the years. They didn’t want to be better than the other necessarily…it was more in the mold of, if I can do this to you, someone else could, too.

Valeria was very skilled. Valeria didn’t follow in the direct footsteps of her father, the Norse Berserker, but she learned how to use a sword. It had gotten more heated between her and Valeria over the most recent couple of years…she wasn’t exactly sure why. Something about her changed…

Valeria had blossomed, in more ways than one. Valeria’s curves seemed to pop, she was a woman. It made her envious…she felt her beauty overshadowed hers, very much. Where she felt her own beauty was perhaps akin to the torchlight in her room just now…dancing and full of life, bright and playful…Valeria’s beauty was that of the sun. Gentle in her approach, yet brighter than the rest, there was no mistaking her beauty. Quiet, warm…and that was only her appearance. Her skill with that sword of hers was as equal a force, if not more.

As they sparred several times, she remembered back to their final confrontation. Valeria didn’t taunt, didn’t use any kind of distraction…she always let her prowess do the talking. She remembered that final time, Valeria seemed distracted by something deeply bothering her. She kept asking her what was on her mind, but Valeria was as tight-lipped about it as ever. Still, she knew Valeria better than anyone. She knew something was bothering her deeply.

It was that something, whatever it was that distracted her, that led to her defeat. Her one and only victory over her cousin. Afterwards, Valeria was visibly bothered by it. She never knew her cousin to be a sore loser…but she threw her sword in frustration, and dropped to her knees. As she rubbed in her victory over her cousin a bit, guilt suddenly gripped her, realizing the situation had more serious implications than she first realized. Coming over to console her in a hug, not knowing what was going on, Valeria broke into tears. Was she REALLY crying because she lost???

Something was eating at her from before that moment…and her cousin wasn’t talking about it. This was about half a year ago…and they hadn’t talked since. Now, very soon, she’d be at the academy with her cousin, and still having no idea what transpired.

Deep down, she wanted to be the one to be able to uplift the spirits of those she cared about. Her father did this, she must have gotten it from him. She knew how she’d uplift her cousin’s spirits…they’d talk about all of the handsome noblemen they were going to meet. The Ashcrofts, the Arknights, Crowleys, Muntzs, and of course…Jaden Silvermayne.

The thought crept into her mind again as to how she would approach this issue of speaking to him. Looking into the mirror, she kept gazing into her face as she blinked a couple of times. Clearing her throat, she practiced her speech.

Jaden…I’m so sorry…

Drawing her expression into one that she felt conveyed the appropriate level of empathy, her defined cheekbones seemed to stick out, her lips deliberately showing a certain pout to them as her green eyes sparkled a bit, seeming warm and inviting.

She then thought, perhaps Jaden is more dry humored and resilient-minded, and she tried her speech again, with another clearing of her throat.

So, did the sword go through your arm too? Because I thought for certain by now you’d have sent me a letter back!

She raised her brow, her darker eyebrows standing out amid her forehead now, wide-eyed with an expression of semi-serious inquisition, mixed with a playful half smile, showing off a dimple in her cheek, while she finished the look with a well-placed hand on her hip.

Taking a moment, she instead put her hand to her forehead.

No…maybe I should just forget bringing it up altogether.

She wanted to though. She could understand what he was going through. She lost her mother…she knew the emptiness that accompanied it. She could help guide him back. She wanted to. Over the years she had grown a fondness for both Jaddick and Jaden. They were both so different…Jaddick had this confidence to him, but respect towards her it seemed like. Jaden was a bit harder to figure out. He was self-conscious, like he was trying to measure up but kept falling short of the mark. Jaden didn’t seem as confident as Jaddick. Jaddick would say whatever was on his mind, about anything. Jaden seemed as if by his words, he’d tiptoe like a man stealing dragon’s eggs from the den, during a conversation. Perhaps he got that from his father…Jaddick obviously had gotten his father’s battle prowess.

A voice rang out.

Liana! Have you finished gathering your belongings? You must prepare to disembark soon!

I’ll be down in a moment, grannie!

Liana gave a gentle sigh, watching some strands of hair over her face seem to whoosh upwards with the exhale from her mouth, as she turned to gather her belongings. Hearing footsteps outside of her chamber door, the door suddenly flung open, and the sight of her grandmother’s shadow became animated on the chamber wall as she voiced out.

Liana McCabe!!! What have you been doing all of this time up here?! Dancing around up her again?!? They can’t afford to wait for you, you know!

I’m packing, I’m packing!

Staring into that mirror again, weren’t you?

I’m just…

Liana didn’t have a good answer. She knew she had to pack, but it was hard to gather everything together and leave home behind.

Liana, sweet child…this is what you wanted, after all. Your father went along with this after you took all that effort convincing him to let you enroll at the academy, this is what you wanted!

I know…

Then get it together! Valeria will be there too, she’s been wanting to see you!

I’ve been wanting to see her too…

Liana felt a wave of sadness and a bit of regret come into her mind for a moment. She was leaving this all behind…was it the right choice? Grannie must have sensed this, and came to her and embraced her in a hug.

No matter what, dearie, your father is proud of the young woman you’ve become…and me too. And your mother would be too…I just know it.

Staring into her grandmother’s face, her mother’s mother, she saw a bit of the same expression of her mom’s that she thought back and remembered. Grannie’s eyes were filled with tears, making Liana suddenly feel emotional too.

Feeling her eyes well up also, she felt the tears fall down from her cheeks. She would miss her. She would miss the castle. She would miss the guards, the birds, the familiar room. Grannie spoke up again.

Come, child. I’ll help you gather your belongings.

Grannie’s face warmed to a smile now, tears still evident in her eyes, as Liana got to gathering her belongings.

Approaching her dresser, she grabbed her brush, and placed it alongside some of her clothes she intended to bring with her. Gathering her weapons, her armor, her gear and some food, she looked long and hard at the harp. Watching it shine, she looked at it longingly a bit.

Do you want to take it with you? It’s Dragonir, you know.

Grannie smiled for a moment, Liana sensing almost a feeling of attachment to it from grannie, too.

…No. I’ll leave it here. Dad won’t be coming with me, so it’d just make me miss him more, I think.

My dear, it’s a nice thing to remember him by!

Grannie started to pack some of Liana’s belongings together in a bundle, wrapping a strand of cloth around them in a cross pattern to keep them together. As grannie approached the harp on Liana’s dresser, she looked back at her for a moment, questioning what Liana wanted.

Liana shook her head.

You’re certain?

Liana felt a vulnerability come over her. That harp was special. But she also knew that if she took it with her, she’d never hear her dad play that song, sing that tune, outside of that bedroom. It needed to stay there, right near her bed, to ward off every evil that exists in the world. So long as it did, she’d be safe. And so long as she could hear her dad play that song for her again, she knew nothing would ever harm her. She couldn’t take it with…what if it were lost, or stolen?

Grannie nodded her head in compliance. Liana had her pack gathered, and began her exit. Heading outside of her bedroom, she traversed the castle corridor and made her way to the grand staircase to make her exit. Soldiers were gathered in formation, watching as she made her way to the castle exit, grannie following close behind her. As the guards opened the large, double doors, she exited the castle keep and entered the city outside. Normally at night time, the city was quiet. You could hear the insects chittering, the wind blowing, even the cry of sabrewolves off in the distant night sky. Tonight, the townsfolk had gathered to see her off. The lord of castle Elimsbaard’s only daughter, after all, was departing for the Highland Academy. Seeing them all gathered, they shouted out blessings to her as she entered the carriage. The attendant opened the door as Liana was whisked away inside, and the townsfolk kept praising her.

We’ll miss you, milady!

Highland is blessed to have you protecting us!

Liana felt the carriage moving now. Grannie waved goodbye, as she noticed tears in her eyes once again. Liana wouldn’t cry. She refused. She bit her lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to cause some pain, to distract herself. Watching