Warrior of the Void

By M. R. Mathias

Braxton, Cryelos, Chureal, and her young dragon Cobalt have suddenly appeared in an unfamiliar land. Only it isn't so strange to Chureal. Not far from where Braxton found the young girl wandering alone in a battlefield, the group ends up in the middle of a war between kingdoms with wizards more powerful than they could imagine. To make matters worse, a group of Darkons, flesh eaters that used to be men, are on the verge of setting loose a terrible creature called the Drar who will destroy them all. Evil Darkanna witches, who can can knock a dragon from the sky with a simple clap of their hands are using their mannish creations, as well as ogres, true mountain giants, and creatures beyond the imagination to break this evil free.

Braxton can no longer seek Taerak's wisdom because the ancient Void Warrior's journal is on the other side of the world in Narvoza, with the dwarves. Left with nothing but a vague legend found woven in a tapestry, and bits of elven lore Cryelos can barely remember, our heroes must find the Staff of Aevelon, and then reach the altar at the summit of Mount Preal before the Blood Moon reaches its apex. Even if they manage it, they will still have to figure out how to use the staff to stop the Darkanna and their ferocious minions from setting loose their evil monstrosity.

Warrior of the Void, the finale of the four book Fantastica series, is nothing less than a blood-tingling, heart-pounding race against time with terrible forces trying to stop our heroes at every turn.

Welcome to the world of Fantastica!

Also available:
Taerak's Void, Fantastica Book One
Sapphire of Souls, Fantastica Book Two
Demon of Destruction, Fantastica Book Three
Warrior of the Void, Fantastica Book Four
And,
Fantastica, The Complete Four Book Collection

• Language: English
• Publisher: M. R. Mathias
• Release date: Jan 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005709914

M. R. Mathias

"The Master of Epic Fantasy" - Kindle Nation Daily, Nov. 2017M. R. Mathias lives on 5 wooded acres. Like the wizards of old, he tends to the animals who share that space and inspire the creatures in his works. He likes to deep sea fish, to attend sporting events, and genre/cosplay conventions. He has sold well over a million eBooks. His work is critically acclaimed, and he has won multiple literary awards including a coveted Locus Poll nomination.Here is what others are saying about M. R. Mathias:"There are few writers in the genre of fantasy that can equal the creative mind of M.R. Mathias - now acknowledged as a master in this genre of dragons and dwarves, and magic, and spells, and all aspects of fantasy."-- Top 100, Hall of Fame, Vine Voice, Book Reviewer, Grady Harp"M.R. Mathias imagines a setting that will entice readers and lead them, along with his characters, on a breathtaking adventure." -- Readers Favorite Book Awards review of M. R. Mathias's 2017 Award Winning novel "A Gossamer Lens" from The Legend of Vanx Malic series"M.R. Mathias is a master at world building and is so good with creative descriptions that you can almost feel the wind whipping through your hair as you soar along on the back of a dragon." -- Readers Favorite Awards review of M. R. Mathias's 2015 "Gold Medal" Award Winning novel "Blood and Royalty" from The Dragoneer Saga""You've (Mathias) already achieved much, much more than so many people who like to think of themselves as writers." -- @Gollancz The Deputy Publishing Director of SF, Fantasy & Horror list of the Orion Publishing Group, 2013

Book preview

Map of Perdun

Part I: The Green Sea

Chapter One

A sudden, high-pitched sound pierced Braxton Bray’s ears, sending chills up his spine. It was the startled young dragon, Cobalt roaring out a shriek. Added to the shock of appearing in a warm spring meadow, after unexpectedly vanishing from an icy winter battlefield, it was almost enough to cause Braxton to scream himself.

He shed his warm winter cloak and started to stalk through the chest-high carpet of lush green growth but only managed a few steps before he fell to his knees, put his head in his hands, and began to sob. He let out a yell of his own, but it wasn’t nearly as loud as the dragon’s. His was filled with anguish, for he had just seen his lover torn to pieces before his eyes. Her name was Nixy, and now she was dead, and with her died the unborn child she was carrying.

Braxton’s child.

Chureal, a ten-year-old orphan girl with a tangle of golden hair and a smatter of freckles across her nose, climbed awkwardly down from Cobalt’s back. She was in full-sized dwarven armor, and it looked like she was wearing a metal barrel keg on her body. She’d said earlier she thought she looked like a battle-ready dwarf with a shrunken head. She gave the young blue dragon a reassuring pat on the side. Fighting back her own tears, she ran clanking to Braxton’s side and threw her little arms around him. Together, they cried for some time.

Cryelos, the silver-haired, yellow-eyed elf, who appeared with them, walked up to the dragon’s side and waited, giving the other two a moment.

Cryelos felt grief and pain, too, but after living for one hundred eighteen years, he’d hardened himself to loss. Especially the loss of short-lived humans who he had watched, and would have to watch, die over and over during his longer life.

Braxton and Chureal were different, though. They and hundreds of others had just defeated the demon called Pharak, but the victory came with a high cost. Thousands of soldiers on both sides had died. Many of them were dear friends, some family. Chureal’s parents had been killed right before her eyes not so long ago, too. But that happened in a different place. Cryelos didn’t know the details, but he knew Lord Braxton and Nixy had been very close to the young girl. Chureal and Braxton’s grief must have been immense, for Braxton had lost his father and both of his brothers in their battle with evil, as well as Nixy and his unborn child.

Braxton and Chureal were not normal humans, and Cryelos had pledged his loyalty to them until the end. They each possessed a medallion of great power and were both filled with, and surrounded by, some form of righteous magic. If they could keep from getting killed, they could possibly live longer than he did.

Only three of the medallions existed. Those who wore them were chosen to do so by the magic itself. Braxton found the one he wore a little less than a year ago, and each and every day he surprised Cryelos and himself with the things he was learning to do with the power.

Chureal had possessed her medallion only months but could do nearly anything she wanted with the power. Cryelos figured this was the magic’s way of protecting her since she was so young. Things Braxton had to struggle with and practice repeatedly to do, Chureal did with only a thought.

Braxton had planned and followed through with the killing of an ancient demon, though. It was something that had once been considered an impossible task. Cryelos admired the young man, both for his intellect and his never-ending sense of wonder. Cryelos only hoped the loss of Nixy and his family didn’t cause some dark abscess of regret to fester within him. Only time would tell.

Taking in their new situation, Cryelos noted they were surrounded by flat grassy green that extended as far as the eye could see in all directions. It was broken here and there by clumps of yellow and blue flowers. A myriad of tiny insects along with a few vividly colored birds and butterflies danced and frolicked through the air, doing whatever it was that they do. The angle of the sun told him it was evening, and unlike the wintery battlefield they had just disappeared from, here it was warm, the heat only offset by a light cooling breeze.

They were clearly a long way from home. Moments ago, when they’d vanished, it had been mid-morning in the dead of winter. Here, it was late in the afternoon and either late spring or early summer.

Ever on duty, Cryelos took inventory of what they had with them, which wasn’t much. They’d been fighting, not traveling, so none of them had as much as a water skin or any dried rations to eat. They had no cooking utensils, no bedrolls, and no idea of where they were. At least they could sleep on their heavy winter cloaks instead of the ground.

Cryelos had his bow, six arrows, and a short sword he could barely use. Braxton was weaponless, for his sword was left buried in the demon’s chest, and who knew what happened to his bow, not that Braxton needed weapons anymore. After his display of magical ability against the demon, Cryelos figured he could defend them against just about anything.

Smokesss, Cobalt hissed quietly beside the elf. I sssmell smokesss. The young dragon lifted his head, stretched his blue-scaled neck as high up as he could, and sniffed at the air. He was small as far as dragons go, at only twenty-five paces from head to tail, but he was only a yearling and would eventually grow ten times that size.

Wood smoke? asked Cryelos. Cook fires? What?

Flesh, Cobalt replied. Wood and peoples.

Cryelos was about to ask something else, but the dragon leapt into the sky before the words could form on the elf’s tongue. He looked to Braxton and saw that Chureal was asleep in his arms. It was clear Braxton wanted to ask what was going on with the dragon but didn’t want to wake her.

Cryelos made a pallet from his woolen winter cloak and helped Braxton lay Chureal on it, which was no easy task since she was still wearing the full set of dwarven battle armor.

She told me Big H was still in the pit when the demon fell into it, Braxton said softly, his face full of sadness.

Big H was a dwarf who had been with them from the start of their great quest to kill the demon. He was a good friend to both Cryelos and Braxton. She thinks it is her fault, Braxton continued. Because she was too distraught to open the pit after she saw Nixy get killed, and he took it upon himself to do it for her.

A hero until the end, he was. Cryelos shook his head. Cobalt said he smelled smoke.

Cook fires? Wood smoke? What? Braxton asked, causing Cryelos to smile to himself.

He went to go look. Cryelos nodded. We have no food, no skins, and no water.

Well, if we can make it until she wakes up, Braxton said, wiping a stray tear from his cheek, maybe Chureal can make us some apples.

Chureal had taken to making apples out of pebbles with her magic and had once done so for the queen of the dwarves. Throughout the dwarven kingdoms under Narvoza, her ability to do this was legendary, but never had Braxton or Cryelos imagined that it might someday be her apples they ate to stay alive. With nothing but green, treeless plains in all directions, and not so much as a hill or a stream in sight, the truth of it was, apples might be all they had to eat for some time.

Do you have any idea where we are? Cryelos asked, hoping that Braxton’s magic would allow them some clue to what happened to them, and why. Cryelos already knew by the looks on their faces when they appeared here that they were as surprised as he was. Obviously, neither of them intended to disappear from the battlefield.

No…I, uhm— Braxton looked panicked as he felt for his pack, which wasn’t with him. Oh no.

What is it? Cryelos asked trying not to be alarmed.

Taerak’s journal is still in the dwarven cavern, Braxton said. He then started fumbling at his belt pouch. A look of relief came over him when he found the leather tube he used to keep Taerak’s strange maps in. At least I have his maps.

Taerak was the one who’d worn Braxton’s medallion for centuries before Braxton found it. Taerak’s service to the void had been rewarded after his death, and Cryelos knew he visited Braxton sometimes in his dreams. Braxton had been learning from the journal, and without it, it was clear to the elf that Braxton wasn’t nearly as confident about things.

Braxton fumbled through the scroll case and pulled out the maps. He sat down with Cryelos to see if anything on them made sense. As in the journal, the text on the maps was foreign and unreadable by either of them, so Braxton took out his medallion and slid it across each map so that through the clear jewel mounted in its center the text could be seen. It was proving to be a pointless endeavor until finally the words on the last map became clear to him through the gem.

The right side, or east side of the map, was dominated by what appeared to be a cryptic cross sitting on what looked like an island in the middle of a large lake. The island was labeled The Island of Skorch and shaped like a flicker of flame, but nothing else was written about it or the strange cross.

The main part of the map was labeled The Green Sea Plains. A quick look around reinforced the assumption that somewhere in the middle of this green sea was where they were now. Far to the west the map showed a mountain range, with one large peak singled out and labeled as Mount Preal. A notation said that the Temple of Drar was located at its peak.

Braxton remembered the old green dragon, Emerald, who was once ridden by Skyla-Veltin, whose medallion Chureal now wore. Emerald told them about an evil race of humanoids called darkonians or sometimes, darkons. Braxton had seen a dead one, its skull oblong and its mouth full of fangs.

Before Chureal came to me, the woman who wore her medallion was fighting an evil, possibly rooted in this temple. He pointed to the mountain top on the map. He wished he could ask Emerald what he knew about the darkons and what Skyla had been doing to battle them. They had to be formidable, because they’d killed her, and unlike Braxton or Chureal, she’d known how to use the power of her medallion well.

He studied the map further, which showed no towns or cities, and only one river that skirted the mountains at the western edge of the plains. At the bottom of the parchment a notation said: On the Island of Skorch, the Staff of Aevilin is guarded by the Rokkan.

It meant nothing to Braxton, but after he told Cryelos what the markings said, the elf let out a big breath as if it might mean something to him.

Cryelos looked as if he was about to tell Braxton something when Cobalt came thumping back to the group, his maw bloody, and his eyes glazed as if he had been feeding.

The dragon told them that he’d found a village about a day’s walk to the north. The village had been ransacked and torched. The area around the smoldering thatch-roofed huts was littered with dead. Several men armed and on horses were pulling a wagon north on a cart trail, and the dragon figured they were the attackers. He saw a few survivors, and found a herd of fat cattle in a pen and indulged himself by eating a cow before returning. Now lazy and sated, he added details of what he had seen, then curled his tail protectively around Chureal and went to sleep.

I guess we go to the village, Braxton said. After they wake, I mean.

Cryelos nodded absently. He was lost in thought now about the ancient elven queen Aevilin. He’d only heard elder Xuniper’s tales, but they had captivated him, for Aevilin was a great hero among the elves, and her staff was said to be very powerful.

Maybe in the village we can pilfer some supplies, Braxton suggested a little later. We need water skins, blankets, and a meal of roasted meat sounds pretty good, too.

Yes, a hot meal of fresh meat, Cryelos said, remembering the long month the three of them, along with Big H, spent in the Wilderkind Forest, eating roots and berries.

I suppose we should leave in the morning then, Braxton suggested. It was clear he valued Cryelos’ input and was suggesting, not deciding, the plan for them.

Yes, Cryelos nodded in a soft comforting tone. Go on, Brax. Get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.

Soon after, the small red moon started climbing. It was a night sky Cryelos had never seen before. The larger yellow moon wasn’t far behind, but it was the smaller moon, its surface swirling an angry crimson color that captivated him, as if storms of blood constantly raged on its surface. From the Isle of Jolin, where he’d been born and raised, the red moon was barely visible while it arced across the southern horizon, but here it made its way high into the sky. Cryelos spent the entire night watching it rise and fall while Braxton lay close to Chureal sleeping fitfully.

At first, Braxton dreamt of Pharark. He was helplessly bound while the demon first killed his friend Darblin Rockheart, then thousands more with a blast of his hatred. Finally, Braxton watched in horror while the demon laughed, bit off Nixy’s head, and threw her body into the snow like so much refuse. Eventually, these images faded, and Braxton dreamt of the cavern where he saved his childhood friend, Davvy, and found the medallion and Taerak’s journal. Sometimes when he dreamt of this place, Taerak would come and speak to him, but to his disappointment, the great Warrior of the Void never showed himself.

While he was there, Braxton used his cupped hands to scoop lake water and wash his face. It felt as if he was washing away some of his grief and frustration as well the dust and grime. It was in the sanctuary of that underwater cavern where he began to sort through his feelings of pain and loss. He could only control what he could control. He had to let go of those things he could do nothing about. By the time he opened his eyes, he found he felt less weighted by his feelings. He was no less saddened, for the hole in his heart that Nixy and his unborn child had once filled were still empty and raw, but he understood that they always would be. He would have to find a way to tame that grief and keep it from consuming his present. It was all he could do.

Chapter Two

To break their fast, they at apples Chureal made from grass stalks. Reluctantly, Braxton agreed that she and Cobalt could fly ahead and scout the area under the condition that they couldn’t land, no matter what they saw. Braxton hoped this would keep them out of trouble. He knew Cobalt would protect Chureal with his life, but the dragon was barely a yearling and would probably agree to do whatever Chureal wanted him to.

Once, the two had gotten lost in a mountain snowstorm and frightened Braxton, Cryelos, and Big H to near hysterics. Braxton’s level of trust in their sensibility was still fairly low. Had she not still been wearing dwarven armor, he probably would have made her walk with he and the elf, but she would have tired too quickly in the bulky gear, and neither he nor Cryelos wanted to carry the awkward plate and chain protected wear.

As they walked, Braxton thought about his mother. The last he’d heard about her, she and his sister, along with his friend, Davvy’s mother and sisters had fled the areas of heavy fighting back in his home kingdom and had plenty of coinage to get by. But that was back in Narvoza, which was somewhere on the other side of the world from where they were now. Hopefully, she would be alright until he could get back home. He told himself that Davvy would look after them, and knowing it was the truth eased his worry somewhat. The loss of his father and two brothers to the demon’s army of trolls was fresh on his mind, as was the vivid memory of Nixy’s headless body being hurled to his feet by the wretched demon. Braxton spent most of the morning fighting tears. It was a battle just to keep from crumbling into a fetal ball.

Thankfully, Cryelos gave him space while they walked. The elf also had losses to mourn. Vinston-Fret, Sorrell, and a few other elves died on the quest to best the demon. Prince Darblin Rockheart, and Big H, were among the hundreds of dwarves who also died in the battle.

At least a thousand gothicans and even more humans were killed on the battlefield by the demon’s hand, too, many of them fighting for Braxton. He’d managed to kill Pharark, though, and as strange as it seemed, it all happened just over a day ago on a snowy battlefield outside of Camberly in Narvoza.

Cryelos shook his head in disgust, trying to force distracting thoughts from his mind. While they made their way through the green sea of chest-tall grass, he tried to remember what stories Xuniper had told him about Queen Aevilin and her powerful staff. After a while, when he was sure he had the story straight, he told it to Braxton while they walked.

Aevilin was the queen of the elves, Cryelos began. This was back when men and elves were not as friendly as they are now. We’d always fought with each other for the right to hunt the forests and over other trivial things, but our race kept it from becoming a bloody war. Then came the ogres. They came with magical fiends and made war against both elves and humans. They nearly defeated us all, but Queen Aevilin prayed to the forest god Arbor, and he granted her a staff that grew from a tree right before her eyes. It had the power to fight the evil beasts, and soon we drove them back to their own lands. For hundreds of years, peace was restored. Then a trusted and revered elven priest named Mardon-Hex murdered the queen and stole the staff. With it, he tore down the structure of elven royalty and, over time, the elves were led by false kings and queens, who were influenced by the priest and the staff he so easily misused.

What happened to Mardon-Hex? Braxton asked.

Xuniper said that he inflicted much pain and suffering and it was he who caused the separation of my people. Even now, groups of elves are scattered all around the different lands. Cryelos paused and looked up at the blue sky, hoping it might seem as new and different to him as the moon and stars had the night before. You don’t know how badly I would love to find some of my people. We are so few on the Isle of Jolin, and so much of our heritage has been lost. Only Xuniper lives to remind us of how great the elven nation once was. Maybe now, with the promised land the Sapphire of Souls has given us, we will start to thrive again. It would be a grand thing to bring us all back together.

Braxton waited a few minutes, then asked again, What happened to the priest, Mardon-Hex?

I don’t know, Cryelos finally answered, but remember, elves live a very long time. I think with the power of the staff, he could still be alive. He could be on the Island of Skorch. Or he could have died, but I doubt he would have died before parting with the staff.

It must be a very powerful thing for him to have coveted it so much, Braxton said.

Yes. Cryelos stopped them and looked at Braxton, his eyes conveying the seriousness of what he was about to say. Xuniper told us that Queen Aevilin turned back ten thousand ogres by summoning the elements themselves with it. She called upon the wind and the rain, and the ground itself. She said the priest used it to make vile monsters and foul creatures that still roam the world today.

Like the thing Taerak called the Rokkan, which guards the staff, maybe?

Maybe. The elf shrugged as they continued. But the Rokkan could be a building, or even a group of people.

As much as he wanted those things to be true, deep inside, he figured Braxton was right. The Rokkan was more than likely a creature of evil design put in place by the priest to keep the staff from falling into the hands of those that would use it against him. The island was called the Island of Skorch, after all, no doubt named to sound menacing and keep the simple folk and the curious away.

Braxton told Cryelos of the darkon corpses he’d seen in Chureal’s homeland. They were very much like humans, but with pale skin and elongated skulls. They had teeth like an animal’s, eyes that were split by vertical slits for pupils.

And you think these darkons have something to do with the Temple of Drar and the staff? Cryelos asked.

Braxton answered by telling him about the dead void warrior Skyla-Veltin and what little he knew about her quest to rid the world of the evil darkon creatures. He then retold Emerald’s tale of how a female darka, who was the leader of all the males, had used some sort of magical concussion to stun Emerald into unconsciousness in midflight. The dragon crashed into the ground, killing Skyla near the farm Chureal was staying at.

Cryelos listened intently while Braxton went on to tell him that he figured they were here, where they were now, to carry on the fight against the darkons, for Chureal’s sake, and he suggested that, if the jewel revealed the staff to them, it surely had something to do with it all. Braxton went on to speculate that the only reason Cryelos was here with them was because the magic of their medallions intended it that way.

Ultimately, Chureal and I are servants to the magic, he told Cryelos. Maybe you could reunite the elves with the staff once we get it. Braxton wondered where those words had come from, for he hadn’t yet thought about retrieving the staff from the Island of Skorch, yet here he was making plans about what to do after it was done.

Maybe this Rokkan will eat us for supper, Cryelos said with a smile. He tried but could not dismiss the idea of finding his people and the staff. He was too humble, though, to let his glorious thoughts wander, and his gnawing hunger kept him grounded and focused on the situation at hand.

Here they come, Braxton said, pointing up at the rapidly closing dragon. Maybe they’ve seen something.

Knowing that wyrm, he probably wants nothing more than to ask permission to land and eat another cow.

Braxton had to think about that for a moment. Not really about what the young dragon wanted, but that Cobalt might actually think to ask him permission to do anything. Not even a full year ago, he’d only seen a dragon from the ground as it flew high overhead. Before that, he’d seen one other, and that was when he was fourteen or fifteen winters old. Now he knew not one, but three dragons personally, one of which he’d healed with power he still didn’t understand. For a moment, he wondered in amazement over how much his life had changed in such a short time. A brief flicker of joy flashed in his mind, but remembering those who’d been killed in the battle with the demon and his horde caused the emotion to fall into the open pit left in his soul. He was suddenly having to fight not to break down again.

Cryelos watched Cobalt’s graceful approach with envy. He wanted to feel the wind flowing through his long hair as he soared over the world on the back of a dragon. He’d longed to do