The Knights of the Elements: The Warrior’s Path

By J.P. Hilliard

Patrick O’Riely Quinn lives in the small town of Crisalle where he excels in school, spends time with friends, and keeps careful watch over his mom. War is not only a way of life for Patrick’s family but a part of their very souls. From a very young age, he was raised to fight and be a leader of soldiers, and he now teeters on the edge of manhood.

The family motto is “Duty, Honor, and Country,” and Patrick believes in these three virtues wholeheartedly. When he is of age, he is drafted into the army, along with his two best friends, Colin and Tara.

On the winding path to war, Patrick and his fellow soldiers meet captivating characters but also creatures that chill the blood. The young man realizes this battle is so much more than weaponry; war is deceit and politics, and Patrick approaches these hurdles with naïve hesitance. Will he become the destined Knight of Light, or will he be killed by one of those he trusts most?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Sep 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483435237

Book preview

The Knights

of the

Elements

The Warrior’s Path

J.P. Hilliard

Copyright © 2015 J.P. Hilliard.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3812-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3524-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-3523-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015911355

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 8/16/2015

Contents

Chapter 1   The Warrior’s Dream

Chapter 2   Casualty of War

Chapter 3   Cor Sanguinum

Chapter 4   Service with a Smile

Chapter 5   The Lover’s Betrayal

Chapter 6   The Revenge and the Ceremony

Chapter 7   The Call of the Father

Chapter 8   The Hunt

Chapter 9   The Riders of Light

Chapter 10   Tara’s Birthday

Chapter 11   The Ball

Chapter 12   The Sword of Light

Chapter 13   The Call to Arms

Chapter 14   Sweet Sorrows

Chapter 15   The Wolf in the Night

Chapter 16   Shield and Fist

Chapter 17   When In Charge

Chapter 18   Home Again

Chapter 19   Trust in the Leadership

Chapter 20   Silo

Chapter 21   The Forest

Chapter 22   MASI

Chapter 23   Sappers

About the Author

To my family and friends thanks for all the support and to 2nd Platoon 370th Sapper Co. you were the best soldier I’ve had the honor of serving with (2009-2012).

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Chapter One

The Warrior’s Dream

I n the center of an immense, rolling field of green, he stood on a hill underneath a lone oak tree and breathed in the cool spring breeze. Wildflowers soaked up the afternoon sun as he looked out over the endless sea of grass, the breeze sending waves into the distance. Beams of light shone through the wisps of white clouds high overhead, covering the field in a golden light. He took another deep breath of fresh air, smiling to himself in satisfaction. Suddenly, the cool breeze turned cold and dark clouds began to flow over the land. Slowly, all the plants withered and died as the sound of thunder brought blood raining down from the heavens. Droplets of death ran down his face and into his eyes, blurring his vision. Violent tremors shook the earth and brought him to his knees; he wiped the blood from his eyes and saw the ground had opened to reveal a fiery chasm.

A rider on a ghostly horse, holding a tattered red banner, came galloping though the flames. The armies of hell followed behind him, their battle cries chilling his blood. From behind him, a trumpet sounded, and the armies of men sped past, the hooves of their steeds shaking the ground as they hurtled toward their destinies. They threw themselves against the demon army like the sea against the shore, for a moment driving the creatures of hell back. The demons stopped their advance, and the battle began. The blood from the dead and wounded slowly began to consume the field, and bodies piled up across the land. Barely visible against the dark clouds, a swarm of carrion-birds as black as the night gathered overhead. As the battle raged on, more and more corpses appeared on the field, both of men and demons. The carrion-birds waited for the fighting to end and the feast to begin.

His vision blurred, and suddenly he was standing in the midst of the fray. In the distance, he saw a young woman approaching from the east flank, riding a charcoal-black charger and leading a great army into the battle. As she drew closer, he could see that she wore armor of green and brown leather with the image of an oak tree stamped onto her breastplate. Hair of liquid gold flowed from beneath her helmet, a lock of forest green gracing the left side of her face. Even though her face was contorted with the fury of battle, you could see that she was beautiful.

The charge was powerful enough to drive her into the middle of the battle, and her mount was taken out from underneath her once she reached the center. As the steed toppled to the ground, she leapt from it, landing gracefully with dual axes drawn as the enemy swarmed her. The demonic creatures wore armor of human bone; their gray, skeleton-like heads bore rows of horns from their foreheads to their spines. Protruding from their maws were four razor-sharp fangs. These were the Knox.

The first charged in, swinging his sword. The beautiful warrior parried the attack quickly with one axe, drove the other deep into the demon’s side, and disemboweled it with one swift movement.

Before the dead Knox hit the ground, the warrior woman was looking for the next. Brandishing a hand and a half-sword, another came in and aimed a slash at her thigh. She blocked the attack with her left and countered with her right, but her opponent parried it easily with the hilt of his sword. The Knox struck back with a powerful slash at her abdomen; she backpedaled quickly to avoid the blow. The momentum of her opponent’s attack caused the creature to spin, exposing its neck. She saw the opening and leapt forward to deliver a devastating blow. The strike severed the vertebrae and sprayed her face with bright green blood as the hell-creature’s head fell to the ground.

She heard another Knox snarl as it charged her from behind. She spun quickly to meet him, but was too late. The tip of the creature’s spear grazed her shoulder, splitting her armor. Infuriated that she had let her guard down for even a moment, she screamed and swung the left-hand axe into its thigh, breaking the bone. She then decapitated her opponent with a deft downward swing from her right, spraying the surrounding combatants with blood.

She saw her next target approach, twirling its sword playfully. As the Knox lunged forward, it appeared to do exactly as the first creature had, so she parried the swinging sword and attempted to counter with a strike to its side. However, on her counter-strike, the Knox stepped back and blocked the attacking axe. She took a step back and swung again with her left. At the exact same time, the Knox swung with his right. She had not expected this, and as the sword sliced her thigh, she managed to swing with her left and amputate her attacker’s arm. Blood rushed from the place where it once was. Unable to recognize its defeat, the Knox raised its sword sluggishly for another attack—not fast enough. The female warrior swung one axe into the creature’s stump of an arm. It howled in pain, and she brought the other axe into the side of its neck, silencing it.

Her last opponent struck quickly, thrusting its spear toward her head. She fell back, the razor-sharp tip of the spear passing just a few inches above her face. As she dropped to the ground, she swung both of her weapons upward, slicing off the tip of the spear. Jumping up as soon as she hit the ground, she attacked the creature; surprised, the Knox tried to strike with what was left of its spear, missing wide. Smiling, she lunged forward to finish her attack. Flailing wildly, the creature tried to preserve its life, but its time had come. She threw one of her axes, which cut through the center of the spear and landed solidly in the demon’s chest. Knocked onto its back with the battle-axe protruding from its ribcage, the Knox gave one last cry of pain and anger as she planted her other axe into its skull, cutting it in half.

Removing her weapons from the twitching corpse, she looked up as a dark figure emerged from the chaos of the battle. An aura of death and decay hung about him, as if he had crawled out of the bottomless pit of hell itself. His sword shone crimson with the blood of the men he had slaughtered; gore from his victims hung from his black armor and shield like morbid decorations.

My lady, he spoke hoarsely, Where is your lover? I had wished to speak with him. And destroy him.

I would assume he is killing all of your men, she retorted.

The dark warrior laughed. I guess I’ll have to settle this with you then.

Let’s dance, you and me. She raised her axes, prepared to fight to the death.

Let’s, he replied. They stared each other down, looking for openings in the other’s defenses. Her observations showed her two weak points in her opponent’s armor; the crotch plate had a severe crack through it. No doubt, it would be weak enough to penetrate. Moreover, where the chest plate met the helm, there was no collar to protect his neck; she went for that first. Jumping with axes in hand, she swung for his neck. His reflexes were quicker, and he blocked her attack easily; with the other axe, she aimed at his groin, but he parried again. Frustrated, she attacked his neck again. However, instead of blocking, he slammed his shield into her face before she could land the blow. She flew several meters before landing on the corpse of the Knox she had slain only minutes before. She pulled herself out of the pool of blood and entrails in which she had landed; the collision had caused her helmet to fall off. Drenched in blood, she charged at him, ready for the kill.

Leaping high, she swung both weapons down at him. The dark warrior stopped them easily with his sword. Now face to face, he locked his enemy in his grasp, and told her,

I was the one who murdered your father as he pleaded for his life. A menacing grin spread across his evil face as her eyes widened.

You bloody traitor, I’ll have your head for that, she screamed, as her eyes burned with the flaming hatred of loss and betrayal.

She drew a small dagger from her boot and stabbed his arm with all her might, penetrating the armor. Dropping his shield to the ground, he grasped her again by the arm and slipped the blade of his sword between the leather plates of her armor. The enemy warrior stopped halfway down the blade and let go of his grasp, letting her fall to the ground as he withdrew his weapon. As she fell, time seemed to slow. Her eyes closed, and he heard a scream. He recognized the voice—it was his own. Time slipped back to normal as she hit the ground. She opened her eyes, looking into the face of a handsome man with short, dark hair, garbed in Aduro steel armor. Her commander knelt over her, cradling her in his arms.

Love, she whispered as a scarlet stream flowed from her mouth. She traced the scar on the left side of his face, as she had done countless times, running her fingers through his thin beard. She closed her eyes, and the last of her life left in a breath.

Chapter Two

Casualty of War

A young man walked down North Street in Crisalle. The memory of his repetitive dream still lingered in his mind as the town bells chimed. The cold air nipped at his face as he trudged through the deep snow that covered the ground. As the town melted behind him and the cobblestone street turned into a dirt road beneath his feet, he arrived at a small cabin deep in the forest that surrounded the town.

Hey Colin, are you awake? he yelled as he walked into the cabin, removed his fur coat, and set down his satchel. There was no answer, so he walked down the hall to Colin’s room; the door was open, but Colin was not there. He checked the master bedroom; there on the bed underneath four different furs, he saw his friend’s eye-catching hairstyle—the vibrant red Mohawk was poking up above the white bear skin. He saw a thin, but well-muscled arm sticking out from the pile of furs, with only the knuckles touching the ground; a wine skin lay not far from his hand.

Hey Patrick, how are you doing? Colin said in a drunken or tired slur; Patrick really could not tell. Wasn’t I… Colin moved two of the furs off of him and got out of bed. Never mind. As he stumbled to his feet, he stood five feet eight, with a slight muscular build that accented his thin mustache. His brown eyes were blurry from the long night he had spent celebrating his seventeenth birthday.

"Well Colin, I would be a

Lot better if you were where you should be at this time of day, he said as they went out to the kitchen.

How would you like some…ah…? Colin said, lifting a kettle out of the fire.

If that’s coffee then, yes, I would like some, Patrick replied as he grabbed two mugs and sat down at the table. As Colin started to pour the coffee all over the table, he mumbled to himself, Stay still, dammit.

Let me get that for you, Patrick offered as he took the pot from him.

As Colin sipped the strong coffee, his vision cleared so that he could see his friend. Patrick stood five feet six and carried one hundred-forty pounds of muscle. His shaggy brown hair shone in the lamp light, and his jade eyes had a stern look in them that matched his cleanly- shaven face. After they finished their coffee, they walked down School Street to Crisalle High School. Their town was the only one in the region that had a school broken into three parts: elementary school, middle school, and high school. King Leo had implemented this new education plan about fifteen years ago and mandated that the guilds consolidate into the high school. He also pushed his scientists and artists to advance their fields as far as they could and learn as much as possible. When Patrick and Colin arrived at the school, they saw their friends sitting outside of the Faulkner building, which held all the guilds.

In Glicae, Patrick asked one of his friends who was sitting against the wall, "Hey Gibran, how are you doing?" Glicae was the primary language of the northern plains. Gibran was the tallest of all their friends, with light brown eyes, and he looked like he could pick you up and crush your skull with one hand.

I’m good Pat, but cannot believe they make you stand out here until 7:00 a.m., Gibran said, standing up and dusting the snow off his fur coat.

I know what you mean! Patrick said, shifting his satchel so that it hung more comfortably.

"Amber, how are you doing?" Gibran asked, still speaking in Glicae.

What did he say, honey? Amber asked Patrick as she gave him a quick kiss.

He asked how you are doing, Patrick said, looking into her pale blue eyes. She was about five feet five, weighed one hundred-fifteen pounds, and had dark brown hair that fell to the small of her back. She was one of the most beautiful girls Patrick had ever seen.

Well, you tell him I’m good, and thank him for asking, Amber said, still looking at Patrick, so Patrick translated for Gibran what Amber had said.

"No problem, that’s good to hear," Gibran said, as the town bell rang and they headed to their classes.

Patrick’s first period was military history, which was pretty interesting, and two of Patrick’s friends, Amy Long and James Aduro, were in the class with him. After military history, he walked to his next class, which was at the end of the corridor. His next subject was math, taught by Miss Holder. Patrick walked in and took his seat in the middle of the class next to Colin.

Feeling any better, Colin? Patrick asked him as they pulled out their math scrolls.

NO! My head is pounding! My eyes hurt! And on top of everything, it is COLDER THAN THE SECOND REALM in here! Colin said the last part loud enough for Miss Holder to hear.

Mr. Masters, is there a problem? Miss Holder asked, looking up from a parchment full of equations.

Yes, I have a problem. It’s FREEZING IN HERE! Colin said, pulling his ocher cloak tighter around his body. Why isn’t there a fire in the fireplace?

It only just turned into the Bruma yesterday, she said, pulling her own layers of wool clothing tighter. I already explained why. It’s bad for the environment, she said, starting to get flustered.

Does it look like I give a Knox’s fang for the environment? The answer is no! Patrick and I are going to the janitor’s office and get some wood, Colin said, starting to walk out of the door. Colin looked back at Patrick before he could say anything.

Patrick stood up and said, I’m coming, I’m coming.

As they walked down the corridor to the janitor’s office, Colin said, Hey Pat, I’m sorry you had to come and get me this morning.

It’s okay, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get this stuff and get back to class because I haven’t even started the math assignment yet, Patrick said, turning the corner and walking into the janitor’s office.

Hi boys, I guess your classroom could use some wood? the janitor asked Patrick and Colin.

Yes sir, it could, Patrick answered.

Well, it’s not like it’s your first time down here for the same thing, now is it, boys, the janitor said plainly, which was true, because it seemed to Patrick that they came down here almost every day.

Yeah, that’s true. But you know Miss Holder, environment first and comfort second! Colin said as the janitor handed them the wood.

Yeah, I know, he said, waving them along.

Hey Pat, so I’ve been thinking that if we don’t get recruited, we should open our own tavern. What do you think? Colin asked as they headed back to their classroom.

I don’t know. Work yesterday was pretty crazy with all the people there were and everything! Patrick said, trying not to drop the wood.

That’s just because it’s always crazy on Ventusday and Sunday, Colin said simply.

Yeah, but where are guys like us going to get the money to start our own business? he asked as they walked into the classroom.

I already have it worked out. We’re going to take over the South Street Tavern when we graduate, Colin said as he started the fire.

Are you happy now that you are hurting the environment, Mr. Masters? Miss Holder asked snidely.

How about I take my carbon footprint and put it up your environmental…

Colin, I’d shut up now, if I were you, Patrick said, only loud enough for Colin to hear him. Patrick pulled Colin back to his seat and managed to keep him quiet for the rest of class. Their third period was anatomy with Mr. Paulson, a retired army surgeon. They were dissecting birds.

Good morning class, today we are dissecting the birds you brought in, Mr. Paulson said as the class walked in and sat down. I would like to bring your attention to my table and show you how different a bird’s proportions are with and without its feathers. Without feathers, it’s shaped something like a turtle, with a compact trunk, long neck, and short tail. The bird’s neck is highly flexible, and because of the number of vertebrae and type of vertebral connections, the bird can reach every part of its body easily with its bill. On the other hand, a bird with all its feathers presents a rather different appearance, as the wings and tail are then prominent features and, in many species, the neck is much less obvious.

As Patrick began to cut into the pigeon, its blood started to seep out of the incision, which made the task of finding and documenting the various organs rather difficult. He had learned from some of the other dissections that the heart had two chambers. Its heart was only a little bigger than his thumb and was shaped a bit like an egg. Of all the various organs, his group only had to document twenty on the list of thirty that was posted on the chalk board along with the date: Moonday the 2nd of Bruma, First phase of Winter, 99 Years into the Second New Order.

Structures