Bastion: Prequel to War

By A.L. Collins

The same dream again. Things were twisted now, thunder clapping as the same man from before stood at the top of the same cliff. Rigil watched from some unknown position at this mystery being who was fighting for his life against some kind of invisible force. He raised his arm and shouted some kind of word that couldn't be understood as shadows began creeping in all around him. But this time his face could be seen. As an arrow struck him and he fell to his death, his face looked exacly like-
Rigil's.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781467076340

A.L. Collins

A.L. Collins learned a lot about writing from her teachers at Hamline University in St. Paul, MN. She has always loved reading science fiction stories about other worlds and strange aliens. She enjoys creating and writing about new worlds, as well as envisioning what the future might look like. Since writing Redworld, she has collected a map of Mars that hangs in her living room and a rotating model of the red planet, which sits on her desk. When not writing, Collins enjoys spending her spare time reading and playing board games with her family. She lives near Seattle, Washington with her husband and five dogs.

Book preview

Contents

Dedication Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Dedication Page

To Ooksoon Lee. My grandmother. You were one of the greatest characters in the story of my life.

To Noelle and her family. When we lit those paper lanterns, I wished that I would know you forever.

To my parents. In a twisted sense, you gave life to this imagination of mine. So this book is technically your fault. I love you so much.

To Josh and Justin. My best friend and my brother, there are no two better to hang out with on a rainy day. You were there from day one.

To my other grandmothers, Ms. Mary, Gramma Ellie, Mrs. Ginny, Mrs. Ines and the women of Wendy’s for the never-ending support and love.

To Jim who completely put this all together. The best person I’ve ever met. And Shannon, an amazing woman who has the greatest sense of humor.

And to everyone this book is going to support. This world belongs to you.

Chapter 1

Lost in Before

A world with different personalities and identical morals is a bastion of heaven. A world with different morals and identical personalities is a realm to be feared. —King Everend of Quires

The world of Serrah is a world that many say is just inching past its childhood years. Although new and beautiful, it is deceiving and treacherous, for no world is a rose deprived of its thorns. The most dangerous thing to exist in this realm of adventures is not the many creatures that roam the skies and the plains, like the mighty dragons that can decimate cities with a single swipe of their wings. It is not the abundance of political and social corruption that is ever present among its people or the abundance of problems caused by them; war, famine, death. Nor is it the constant search of power that seems to capture the attention of every nation that calls Serrah its home. No what may be the single most dangerous part of this world is something that stems from the very depths of any being with a sentient mind. The most dangerous thing that exists to this date… is fear.

Fear of what’s to come. Fear of what has passed. Fear of the old, fear of the new. Fear of the unfamiliar and fear of things all too familiar, the dark shadow of terror has reached its grasping hand over fields and across oceans until every nook and corner of the world has experienced the petrifying taste of horror. At the very best fear leads to rashness and foolishness. At the worst… it leads to intolerance, ignorance, rage and disaster. However the strength of men has never been proven by not feeling fear but by facing it, grasping it by the horns and conquering it. Fear should not make a man weak but strong enough to find who he is even after the dust has settled and the battle is done. And in Serrah’s brief but checkered history no element has been more powerful or more corruptive than that of a man built only on fear and his own ambitions.

Now the world of Serrah is one that is relatively new yet it is not a world that ignores its history. Long ago there was an ancient civilization that the people of today’s society simply call the Auranteva. Aura coming from the root of an old elven word that means of the sky and teva meaning the people. The Auranteva were an advanced and fascinating race full of knowledge and experience as a people, although much if not all of their culture is now lost and in place only rumors remain. According to legend, an old king by the name of Mannahdra had been elected by the Aurantevanian elders to lead their people into the new age. On the night of his confirmation to the throne, he had a dream of people disappearing from view, shifting into various creatures and spitting flames like the dragons themselves. Startled, he awoke in a panic to find that he himself was surrounded by flames. As he yelled and cried in fear, he slowly began to realize that he himself was not burning. The flames were cool to his touch, as if they didn’t exist at all. He began to realize that the source of these flames… was none other than himself.

As his emissaries heaved open the doors to his room and hollered in horror at the sight of their to-be king in flames, he stood to his feet unharmed. Much to their surprise, he smiled and stated that he himself had found the spring of life. He gathered information on people with similar tales and found that there were numerous occasions in which ordinary men and women experienced or claimed to have caused unusual events to occur. Tales of towns that suddenly burst into fire overnight and yet not a single person perishes in the flames, men turning the rain around them into drops of crystal ice, or of gypsies who seem to hear and respond to the cries of the departed. Any who had claimed such feats were written off as insane or dangerous… but Mannahdra knew better.

A day later, and as his first act of king, he demanded that all those with an ounce of intelligence study the human body in great detail, with the king himself volunteering as a test subject. After years of vigorous searching and prying the Auranteva had finally unlocked the potential of a natural essence that, when controlled, could allow the body to perform amazing feats. Spitting fire, changing shape, bending light, all of these capable by utilizing this newfound organic power and all of which discovered merely by accident. This breakthrough eventually consumed the thoughts of every scholar and doctor in the world with all of them questioning the properties of this essence called mannah and how it came to be.

As the civilizations of Auranteva grew in both magic and technology, they eventually started constructing colossal structures called Bastions that were essentially floating cities. By utilizing the effects of mannah in a way that is still unknown, the Auranteva were able to master the skies and construct hundreds of floating structures that served as the symbol of Aurantevanian pride. For a small amount of time all was blissful, and Serrah could say for the first time that it had truly seen peace throughout its lands.

However a time came where people began to crave the power of mannah. Every nation feared the idea of another nation with a powerful magical army at its disposal. Men and women from all corners of the world began training themselves and others to utilize mannah in powerful ways without truly understanding it. These sorcerers and sorceresses began breaking the cherished laws of Serrah and using magic for devious crimes or in quests of power for their own ambitions. Diplomatic tensions rose and chaos began to reign as armies of supernaturally gifted soldiers rushed into fields of battle and started decimating everything in their wake. This began what was called the Ellusian Wars and was the first time in history that entire continents had been brought to their knees by the force of magic.

Millions began to suffer at the hands of mannah which ultimately caused them to fear the powers at their fingertips and curse those who used them. The nation of Auranteva suggested condoning the use of mannah and eventually the nations of Serrah agreed with one another to cease the use of magic altogether in order to avoid tearing the world apart from the seams. The Pact of Lesser Aggression was eventually formed stating that man would no longer use the powers of mannah either in war or for one’s own ambitions.

However, many did not agree to the pact propositioned by the Aurantevanian Empire. In the shadows of deceit, rival nations had begun cooperating in an attempt to destroy the nation of Auranteva and freely wield magic and use their own armies as they wished. This Guild of Shadows, a secret and dastardly organization. It was created by the devious desire and lust for power of several cooperating nations. This guild trained militia in secret who were skilled in combat with the magical arts. With powerful spells that they created from scratch, they stocked themselves with weapons, airships and deadly armies fueled by the will to conquer all who stood in their way. As they launched their dark attack on the rest of Serrah, the other nations had no choice but to retaliate as best they could. But with the treaty in motion, none of them had been training magic users on the scale that they had once before and the forces of their armies were severely overpowered by the Guild’s.

Soon after, disaster struck the nation of Auranteva. In a covert mission, Shadow Guild assassins infiltrated the Aurantevanian border and the capitol city of Juramesh. There they eventually succeeded in killing the current king, Javinier Cairo. This brought the powerful nation to their knees, as their king and leader laid dead on their own soil. In order to combat this threat, the Auranteva emissaries elected a new king by the name of Deidre Artimus, who in turn quickly initiated the Saint Claironica movement: a worldwide search for the most talented and magic-proficient beings in all the realms so that they could be brought to Juramesh, trained and hardened in the use of mannah and combat this deadly alliance of enemy powers.

The movement was fierce and desperate. As enemy magic users stripped the fields of life on every nation’s borders, an order of knights simply called The Finders were formed by King Artimus. These knights scoured the surface of Serrah bringing elves, humans and whatever else they could find back to Auranteva’s Bastions to be trained in the art of battle. Trained to sense the auras of magic proficient beings, these humble servants of the king embarked on noble quests to recruit whatever help they could find in this dire time of need. Eventually the movement united and produced a great army of magic users. The most famous of these sorcerers being a unique group of talented and battle hardened individuals known in history as the Alliance of Ten, claimed to be the most magically attuned and diversely skilled fighters in all of Serrah. These men and women of all races joined together and launched a covert campaign against the forces of the Guild of Shadows, engaging in battles that would live on as the stuff of legend for hundreds of years to come.

To combat this threat, The Guild of Shadows had brought out its secret weapon. A form of magic they had created that was so dark, so foul and so powerful, that it sapped the user of his very life just in order for him to cast a spell. The payoff however was the immense and infinite power that was bestowed apon the being foolish enough to resort to this kind of magic. Nethertania, or black magic, was being used by the troops of the Guild of Shadows which began either twisting them into monsters with no control over their own bodies or corrupting their minds in such a way that the individual lost all sense of who they were or what was right or wrong. To those who could control this magic, they became the generals of the Guild’s armies. These beings decimated the lesser nations with almost no challenge at all and had eventually moved on to conquer the one nation left that stood in their way.

The people of Auranteva fought back as best they could. The enemy nations had finally broken through the borders of their homelands and started annihilating whatever they could find on the ground. Eventually the people of Auranteva were forced to take refuge on their Bastions and flee to the skies, leaving their grounded cities and all of the people trapped there behind… all left to face their fate and the wrath of The Guild of Shadows.

It is not clearly known what happened to the Alliance of Ten throughout these moments in history. Many believe that several of the warriors died in the initial attacks by dark magic users. Others say that some of them took to the skies in Bastions while some were left behind to defend the homeland as much as they could. Whatever may be true and despite whatever part the Alliance played in the war one thing was still for certain… the nation of Auranteva was being destroyed. As airships launched assault after assault on the floating nations, eventually the constant barrage of attacks damaged the Bastions to the point where they couldn’t maintain their places in the skies. Some of them were forced down to the ground and their inhabitants enslaved. Others were brought crashing to the lands… violently. The number of Bastion havens left was dwindling fast until just a handful of them were left remaining in the sky.

In an act of lasting desperation the current ruler King Vladamir had instructed his people to begin constructing a series of magical devices on the final four Bastions. These magical items were perhaps the most advanced pieces of magical technology ever created in the history of Serrah; a culmination of ideas from thousands of brilliant minds and years of hard work and planning. The Aurantevanian Empire had begun the enactment of their final failsafe plan which they simply called The Ritual. If they couldn’t stop The Guild of Shadows from taking over their society… then they would reset the world over again so that their future generations would never have to come to life in the grips of the Guild’s power. As the last of the Bastions began to fall, King Vladamir declared that the four magical items be activated. The artifacts surged and pulsed with power, surging throughout the lands and draining all mannah from every creature that had become dependent on its properties.

For the more powerful magic users, the draining of mannah was fatal. They had become so powerful that the use of mannah tied in directly with the beating of their hearts and the pumping of their lungs. Draining them of so much energy so quickly prove too much of a strain on their anatomy and their bodies could not keep up fast enough to take over the involuntary actions needed to survive. For others it had a stranger effect, wiping the knowledge of magic and its uses completely from their minds like an evolutionary backpedal.

The result became that every person who had ever learned, used, or came into contact with mannah was either dead or drained of their awareness of it. This however also became true for all of those aboard the final four Bastions as the people of Auranteva were not spared from this forceful outcome. The artifacts were now full of energy, pulsing mannah into the world of Serrah and injecting magic into everything from the trees to the animals to the skies around them. Still brimming with power, the Bastions now ran on a limitless supply of magic and with no one to guide their paths they drifted off into the sky, unknown in location and never to be seen again.

Eventually years passed. And the fighting had subsided along with the obsession over mannah. Due to the mystical items, magic was now a myth and its part in history a blur. The war had been considered over with a new treaty erected between the existing nations and all traces of The Guild of Shadows wiped completely from the public’s minds. It was no more than a ghostly rumor that was pushed aside after the dust had cleared, and the nations that supported The Guild had been quick to demolish any thought of their governments being affiliated with a conspiracy group.

With an ocean blocking the opposing nations and with new societies rebuilding in the decades after Auranteva’s destruction, the world seemed to elapse into a strange state of nostalgia, a time before magic had been discovered and the people overrun by mannah. With little history to go on and sketchy facts and details, its no wonder the inhabitants of Serrah are now just realizing the full potential of mannah and its destructive powers.

Though as it was stated before, the people of Serrah learn from their history. The question however is… how do you learn from history when so much of it has been erased from view?

A new wind is blowing with magic at its root. The future is uncertain… only that much is clear.

* * *

Tossing and turning again. He could feel it. It was either late in the evening or early in the morning and he could feel himself waking up. Images kept flashing in his head, like a recap of a life that was never his. He saw names he’s never remembered, people he’s never met and places he’s never heard of. In particular he kept seeing a man standing at the top of some kind of cliff. Blackened skies roared with thunder, an army of shadows approaching him.

He felt for this figure, this man. He knew him yet his face and voice were not clear. It was a familiar stranger. A familiar warrior. He had been fighting this entire time. For what and against who were a mystery, but he wanted this man to succeed. He wanted him to fend off whatever forces were overwhelming him. And for an instant, he swore that this person was looking straight at him. Through the blood. Through the death.

The man braces himself with his blood soaked clothes and shattered blade in hand, he raises his arm and screams with the distorted face of a demon. As he suddenly falls backwards and into the ocean below, a feeling of both rage and heartbreak pierces the air, and then…

Rigil awoke. His eyes widened and he shot up out of his bed, flying forward and screaming No!

He gasped, breath hitching in his throat and chest heaving against the darkness around him. Sweat dripped down his brow as he felt around his bed, making sure he was still in the same spot he laid down at last night. He turned to his right and pushed aside the cloth at his window. He saw the stone road that led through his town and he could see the city of Endican in the horizon. No flames, no burning, no destruction. Nothing was under attack at the moment… he merely had a bad dream.

Suddenly a candle lit in the opposite corner of the room. He looked over and saw another young man rubbing his eyes, a makeshift lantern in his hand. He lifted himself off his bed and sighed. Rigil… what are you screaming about?

Rigil looked at him without an explanation. He ran a hand through his slicked back blonde hair his lungs still pumping with breath. His skin felt tingly like a small current of electricity was flowing through him.

The other man raised his eyebrows, Rigil… you’re glowing again.

He looked down at his arms. A small aura of blue energy lay just a centimeter off his skin like a blanket of light. It pulsed lightly as if it had a life of its own, swirling and fading lightly in and out.

Oh… I’m sorry Tavis. Rigil put his hands to his face, sighing to himself. The glowing faded and seemed to seep back into his skin.

You really need to start controlling your mannah flow. People will stare. He tried to smile, but Rigil still had his head buried into his palms. Tavis looked to his friend with a sort of sympathy in his eyes. Did you have another dream again?

God they’re getting worse Tavis… Rigil admitted through his hands in sorrow, I don’t know what’s going on. Eventually sleep will never find its way to me.

Tavis sighed. He placed the lantern on the table at the foot of his bed, scratching his short brown hair. He leaned on his elbow, folding his hands together and turning toward his friend. What exactly are they about?

Rigil shook his head, moving his fingers to the bridge of his brow.

Rigil?

It’s nothing, Tavis.

Nothing? Tavis said louder. He sat up and swung his feet over his bed, You’ve woken me up fifteen times in the past three months. Lord of Skiesfeld, I deserve to know what’s going on.

Rigil took his head from his hands as he flopped onto his back with a gruff moan. Tavis sighed as he watched his friend, You used to tell me everything. Come on maybe I can help.

I doubt it. Rigil replied sadly. His fingers twiddled with the green necklace that hung off of him. He held one of two only remaining pieces of his former life close to his chest and raised his arm above his head, cradling his pillow. As the sun began to shine through the one open curtain above Rigil’s head Tavis moaned and rubbed his eyes.

Well you’re a damn good rooster I suppose. He remarked, yawning.

Rigil knew it was morning. In about an hour he would have to be in the city of Endican, ready for another day of his civil duty. He brushed Tavis’ last comment aside and got out of bed. He reached under his bed and started sifting around for his item case. Tavis stood and stretched his arms out, scratching his back. He went over to the other half of the room where a small mirror stood above a light wood sink and began washing his face off. Rigil brought his case out, one of the nicest pieces of furniture he owned. The one room house they were living in was expensive enough as it is to maintain, and that was only the housing they could afford in the lower parts of the town of Fredriff. To live in a place like Endican was something that two orphans could only achieve in their wildest dreams. No way in hell could they manage to live in a city like that. Not unless they were guards, that is.

So Rigil gently opened his locker and looked inside. He grinned to himself warmly as he pulled out a shined metal blade. It was a gorgeous make, handcrafted in an era that he knew was far beyond his time. The hilt was jet black and smooth, crafted from a special metal called reave that harnessed mannah freely in battle. Carved with special insignias he didn’t recognize, it was also wrapped in a sturdy gray cloth that kept the weapon from flying out of your hand in the midst of a fight. The blade itself however was more unique with a slight green hue in the coloration.

Rigil decided it must have been made from a different metal alloy not found in today’s times, so he guessed it was quite valuable. Despite being a strange looking sword, it never failed him in his training or in any of his duels so far and it was definitely the subject of envy from the other students in his squadron. More than that though, it felt like home. Whenever he had a particularly bad night, he always took his sword out and polished it or something. Made him relax and took the stress away, especially after nights like tonight… when the dreams crept in on his slumber.

Aye, are you still eye-groping that thing every morning? Tavis said, trying to be funny in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Rigil smiled a little, It’s strange. Every time I see this sword I grin. Kind of feels like the rush you get when you come home after a long journey.

Tavis looked over at him, face dripping with water. I swear, not all’s right in the head with you.

Can’t you take me seriously just once in your life, Tavis? Rigil sighed, You’re never serious.

I can be serious when the situation calls for it. He wiped his face off with an old rag next to the sink. Like these nightmares you’ve been having. Bad dreams are often-

Rigil turned around and pointed at Tavis, No, don’t say it.

I’m just saying-

Tavis. Rigil said sternly. He would hear nothing of Tavis’ theories.

Bad dreams are often the symptom of having succumbed to a curse or hex. Tavis raised his hands defensively, That’s all I’m saying.

I’m not under a curse. he stood up and grabbed his blade by its hilt, You ace one Hexial Remedy class and you think you know black magic like the back of your hand.

Tavis’ face suddenly became quite nervous, Rigil don’t even say that word in front of me. He rubbed his shoulders, Gives me the creeps just talking about.

Why not? Rigil questioned, We learned enough about it in our Diverse Magic sessions.

Only enough to know that it should be feared. Tavis replied.

That is nowhere near enough information to begin with in my opinion. Rigil reached down for his under-armor cloth shirt and sat his blade on his bed. I will not fear something I know so little about. Besides it’s a dead practice. No one has been able to use black magic for hundreds of years.

Tavis’ head cocked back a little, That’s plenty fine with me. He scoffed to himself, You sound like you’re curious about it.

I am curious about it. Rigil put on his shirt and smoothened out the folds in it. Not curious on how to use it. Just curious on what it does. He picked up his blade. Suddenly he whipped it around in his right hand. He brought it around to his left and as his hands passed he grabbed the sword into his left and he arced it in front of him impressively, striking a menacing pose after his swing.

And how to fight it. He smiled.

Tavis grinned, Impressive, I’ll give you that much. But hopefully we will never see black magic used by anyone. He shrugged, It can stay dead for all I care.

And then there was a loud thump. The left half of the wooden bar that suspended his cloth curtains fell to the bed with a muffled noise and broke apart into several pieces. Rigil looked behind himself with an embarrassed shrug.

My fault… he admitted.

Tavis laughed, Well if the source of all dark magic is a curtain rod, then we all have nothing to worry about for Rigil the conqueror is here!

Rigil leaned against his blade, You think so?

The adjacent portion of the curtain rod fell to the ground, also breaking into pieces. The young man grimaced at the less than pleasant sound.

Tavis nodded, Positive. Now let’s get dressed already.

Rigil nodded. He knew that today was no ordinary day at the guard’s barracks. Today was the day that he and Tavis found out if they had enough skill, courage and luck to become members of the Endican city guard force, a dream that had fueled Rigil’s passion for quite a long time. All he had to do was pass this final test and then years of training would finally be put to good use. He’d be defending the people of his beloved town and city like he was supposed to. This was, after all, his destiny.

* * *

The two young men left their home just as the sun found its place in the sky. A dense fog fell along the streets of Fredriff. The fog was thin enough for the sun to be seen shining through the clouds, but thick enough that you could see it swirl around you whenever you walked. As they positioned their swords, shield and adjusted their apprentice guard armor, they walked along the main road of the town with pride in their chests as people stopped and looked at them admirably.

Fredriff was a pretty well-off town. Most buildings were made of stone or wood depending on how much the owner could afford. Each home had a small flame lantern at the front door so that a passerby could tell if the family wished to be disturbed or not. Overall the streets were clean, the people joyous and the animals happy and free. Despite the occasional fenced in yard, the town’s land was wide and open with houses dotted randomly within the town line. Rigil and Tavis watched as fishermen came in on carriages holding their caught goods, ready to make a sale or take some home to cook themselves.

They also saw the seamstresses, taking fine silks they bought in Endican last night and making amazing clothing out of them. The women sat outside their homes with their spinning wheels in hand, weaving their materials through the machines while gossiping with one another about the previous day’s events as their children just rose with the day’s beginnings. It brought a warm feeling to the two young men as they prepared to travel to Endican. It showed them what they were really defending as city guards.

Suddenly Rigil and Tavis were stopped by a wave of a hand. A curly brown-haired middle-aged woman flagged the two boys down. They both smiled as she trotted over with a basked in her hand that was covered by a blanket. She smiled a pearly, wonderful smile that would make your heart melt as if it was made of Livonian chocolate.

Aye, morning Beadice. Tavis smiled politely. Rigil nodded his head towards her. The woman laughed and cupped her hands together.

Well bless my old bones. Boys, you’ve done it. You can’t believe how much we’re all proud of you. She said with pride.

That’s very kind of you Beadice, but we haven’t exactly made it into the guard yet. Rigil corrected her.

She turned to him, But you may as well have! Everyone in town knows that you two are the finest picks for the guard since Calgra Utenvius himself!

Suddenly a thrall of people circled around them. Rigil and Tavis shrugged humbly as they began cheering and hollering. Little children and grown men alike yelled themselves hoarse, congratulating the two young boys on their inevitable success as Endican guardsmen.

Rigil blushed slightly, "Well thank you… for the confidence in us.

It’s very refreshing. Tavis finished.

Beadice shook her head, Oh no boys. That’s not all! You come back from your final test today and I promise you both we’ll all be waiting for you! She turned to the other people and threw her hands up, We’re all going to sing and be merry tonight, because after today, the Endican guard will have two of the most talented, honorable and incredibly handsome young men in its ranks!

The people cheered again, hooting and hollering. Rigil shook his head. The mere thought of everyone in town rooting for them made him that much more confident to make it. Beadice you’re all too kind. But you don’t need to waste resources celebrating for us.

Oh nonsense Rigil. She shushed him, The stocks have all been ordered from Endican traders and we’ve all pressed our plans away like laundry for this date!

Rigil sighed, I just-

Tavis elbowed him. He turned to Rigil and said, Just accept it lad. They want to celebrate our success, why is that a bad thing?

It felt like a bad thing because Rigil has gotten used to the fact that good things never last. While he tries to balance realism, pessimism and optimism all equally, he has only realized that whenever he tries to let a good thing in, it only has the chance to hurt him even more. Why take that risk when it’s only going to break your heart?

But Rigil smiled, scratched his nose and said, All right, all right. I can’t turn away now I suppose.

Beadice touched his arm, Laddie we all need something to celebrate from time to time. And this is just the best excuse to do so. She smiled warmly. Besides… my daughter Sela has been yearning for some quality time with you.

Rigil swallowed what he hoped was spit. Sela?

The woman winked. Tavis snickered to himself as the crowd departed, waving their goodbyes to their hometown heroes. Beadice nodded to them both and Rigil stood there in awe, crossing