The Forge of Destiny: Battle for the Heart of Verdure

By Alexandru C. Damian

In a fantasy world where the characters have strong individual traits that make them see reality from very different perspectives, the storylines in this book clash violently, depicting events that occur in a realm where ignorance thrives and real togetherness has been forgotten for centuries.
The characters’ inability to realize the real root of the problems only puts them in a situation where they have to face forces they do not fully understand, as strength meets magic, light meets darkness and life meets death in a frenetic dance, that might bring about the end of their world. In a game whose rules they aren’t even fully aware of, can they do anything to prevent total destruction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Sep 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528987974

Alexandru C. Damian

A dedicated fan of the fantasy genre, the author depicts his own vision of a fictional world. The storytelling that goes to so many places can seem familiar at times but outright strange more often than not because the author chose to write it not necessarily within certain boundaries but with concepts of resourcefulness and authenticity in mind.

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About the Author

A dedicated fan of the fantasy genre, the author depicts his own vision of a fictional world. The storytelling that goes to so many places can seem familiar at times but outright strange more often than not because the author chose to write it not necessarily within certain boundaries but with concepts of resourcefulness and authenticity in mind.

Copyright Information ©

Alexandru C. Damian (2021)

The right of Alexandru C. Damian to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528987653 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528987974 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

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E14 5LQ

Chapter 1

Darkness

It is dark where fear gets stronger.

Shrieks. Mayhem. Terror.

Everyone was running amok trying to escape, struggling to find a place to hide. Sharp blades wielded by skeletal hands slashed and butchered their flesh. The screaming of women, the howls of men and the cries of children could be heard from miles away.

Sitting there, in the humid cellar whose entrance was blocked by the collapsed building he could do nothing but listen. The gruesome stories of what had happened in other villages had already frightened him enough but never had he imagined his very own would be doomed to have the same fate. He wanted to get out and help the other villagers against the undead but as he stood alone in darkness, he felt weak and helpless as never before. Even if he did manage to get out, what could a 19-year-old boy do against such creatures? The answer, both disappointing and infuriating, made him feel despair taking him over like frostbite; nothing. There was nothing he could do. All those he knew, all those he cared about were being butchered, mangled and tormented by mindless skeletons and there was nothing he could do.

Then the same inhuman, spectral voice that he had heard before the butchering even began spoke once more and he could clearly hear the words this time: "Anima Interimo." The voice of the lich, something between a whisper and a hiss, sent shivers down his spine. Shortly after, the sound of a muffled thud let him know that someone else had dropped dead.

He felt like crying but no tears would come out of his eyes. He could not bear to hear the screaming anymore. The noise of the slaughter was torture to him and frozen by fear as he was, he could not even muster enough courage to cover his ears. Soon, however, everything went silent. The screaming was gone. They were all dead; he knew it.

"Sceleto Subicide," the lich hissed with his unnatural voice and the deep silence was replaced by moans; the dead villagers were clumsily getting up. Their flesh, slowly stripped from their bones by the spell, was falling on the ground with muffled sounds. In no more than a few minutes the entire village had been harvested as undead slaves; then everything went silent again.

Those were people that he had known his entire life and now they were all dead and doomed to the most terrible kind of enslavement. He began to feel the fury boiling inside of him, consuming him like fire eats paper. All those he cared about – they had all been killed and all he could do was listen trapped in a cellar. The deep feeling of loss showed him new levels of pain.

But as this self-pitying wildfire was feasting on his soul, the distant voice of a woman interrupted his train of thought. "Flamma Infernalis," the woman yelled and several skeletons released deafening shrieks as wild flames engulfed them and started to consume their fleshless bodies. Their other worldly screaming that seemingly came out of no longer existing vocal cords was enough to make one shiver.

Come meet my mace, you befouled monstrosities! It is your one-way gate to absolution! the deep voice of an unknown man roared and soon the sounds of clashing blades and metal shattering bones filled the air.

Thinking about fleeing, are you? an even deeper voice bellowed. My axe longs to slash and cleave!

Several skeletons fell to the ground, motionless. But the battle did not intensify, as was to be expected. It suddenly stopped, the skeletons seeming to have frozen in time instead. They stood still, immobile, and this unexpected turn of events was strange enough to raise suspicions in everyone’s mind. The warriors attacking the undead were confused. Their confusion, however, was not to last as the skeletons moved aside and made way for one of the cruellest and most powerful death knights to ever walk the Green realm: Akeldama the Baleful.

According to rumours, Akeldama’s strength and speed were only surpassed by those of the dreaded Raven, the faithful servant of the Undead Queen. The attacking party was well aware of the circulating rumours and running unexpectedly into such a skilled and strong opponent froze the blood into their veins. As far as they knew, Akeldam’s reputation was unstained; no one ever managed to survive an encounter with the death knight.

Gilmore Sedgeley, a proud and fierce but astute warrior, weighed the situation for a bit. That slow but determined pace, the white hair that reached down to his shoulder and the two long obsidian blades that he wielded were unquestionably Akeldam’s trademarks. There was no mistaking it; they were to fight the infamous undead killer who, due to his incredible physical strength, managed once to defeat a small army by himself and earned the name of Bloodshed.

Everyone paled. Fear numbed their senses and for a second, they had an irresistible urge to step back; their bodies, however, would not listen as if turned to stone. The imposing stature of the death knight overwhelmed them with fear.

Enya Firebrand, the young sorceress, was the first one to come to her senses. She quickly recognised the death knight for the immense threat that he was and cast the good fortune spell, Fortuna Copia, so they could at least stand a chance against such an unexpected and potentially fatal threat. The spell was hard for her to cast because it was a different kind of magic than the one she was skilled at but she was aware that facing such a strong opponent might get them all killed anyway. A bit of luck was more than welcome in such dire of a situation. But Bloodshed laughed. The cold, distant and mocking laughter sent shivers down everyone’s spine. His laughter, however, ended abruptly as Paris Nefall, the archer of the group, pierced Akeldam’s rotten heart with an arrow.

The death knight pulled it out and threw it away, disgusted by this pathetic attempt to take him down. Although his composed face did not betray any of his feelings, it was clear that this impudence vexed him greatly.

And then, as if obeying someone’s order, the skeletons, the lich and the death knight retaliated all at once. The mental link, like an underdeveloped sort of telepathy, that existed between the lich and the lesser undead allowed them to move like a well-trained unit. Akeldama launched himself towards Nefall and would have slit his throat had Paris not tripped on a rock and fallen. The fortune spell was working, it seemed, and this unexpected event created a short opening for the brawny Art Eagan to smash his mace on the death knight’s head. Bloodshed fell to the ground but got up almost instantly and would have sliced Eagan in half had Enya not had the foresight to cast the Terra Furorem spell, causing the ground beneath Akeldama to crumble. For some reason, her intuition told her that was the perfect spell to cast; or was it just luck?

Seeing that the effects of the fortune spell allowed the living warriors to be on a somewhat even ground with the death knight, the lich cast Artius Dispello, making quick work of Enya’s magic by dispelling it. The difference in power was now clear and the undead unquestionably had the upper hand. In a few minutes the brave warriors were surrounded.

Seireadan Bardrick, who had switched places with Eagan during the chaos that ensued, knew it was impossible for him to behead the tall death knight with his axe. He focused on dodging his attacks and trying to slash whatever part of Bloodshed’s body he could reach. But the death knight fended off his attacks easily, effortlessly and even gracefully, the way that an experienced dancer would perform a waltz. But the dance was not to last for long for the death knight lost his patience and decided to deliver the final blow. He dropped one of his swords and punched Bardrick in the stomach, making him kneel, breathless. The pain made his eyes bulge out in a terrifying way and immobilised him; he was defenceless. The death knight picked up the sword he had dropped and criss-crossed the two blades under Bardrick’s chin. Bardrick felt the touch of the dark blades on his neck and shivered as if bitten by icy winds. Akeldama stopped to savour his triumph and it was at this moment that Bardrick realised his life had come to an end.

But at that very moment something so unexpected and yet so natural occurred because it was in such accursed moments, when overconfidence took you over and tricked you that the odds decided to defy you. And as Seireadan Bardrick closed his eyes to welcome death, Gilmore Sedgeley managed the unbelievable and sneaked behind Bloodshed and severed his undead head, which fell rolling on the ground, expressionless.

The warriors felt relieved seeing the defeated corpse of the death knight lying motionless on the ground but the battle was far from over. While the warriors were busy dealing with Akeldama the Baleful, the clash between Enya Firebrand and the dreadful lich only intensified. Just as two natural opposites that were destined to annihilate each other, the proclivity of liches towards cold magic could only lead to explosive results in a fight with a Fire sorceress. The freezing Nova Glacio would furiously clash with Enya’s tempestuous Flamma Infernalis, explosions of ice and fire damaging everything and everyone that was in their way, save for the two spellcasters whose defensive magical shields were still strong enough to defend them. But battling a fire sorceress for too long would never be a good thing for their blood boiled with the power of searing flames. Soon enough Enya went into a blind rage and started to cast the fire killing spell over and over;

"Uro Absolute!" she yelled, once, twice, thrice… She missed the lich but three skeletons burst into flames and in mere seconds nothing but ashes remained where they stood.

For the very first time since he became a lich, he genuinely felt the bite of fear. His undead body could no longer display it as where there was a face once now was just a skull with the absent gaze of empty eye sockets and a set of teeth forever locked into a smile. He knew he could not defeat the sorceress and decided to retreat by teleportation spell but the die was cast and there was no escaping for him now. Eny’s fourth killing spell hit him straight in his skeletal chest and fire erupted and engulfed him from the very place where maybe a fiery heart beat once. Then there were only ashes where he stood.

The remaining skeletons, though still outnumbering the living warriors, began to flee, following their master’s example. But Enya was too angry at that point and her power skyrocketed. Let a fire sorceress get angry enough and her potential at fire magic could be limitless. Fire magic was never stronger than in that moment when the wizard fully embraced it, deciding to unleash themselves and completely let go, for fire would always be hungry, intense and passionate. So when Enya casted the Ignis Excio spell, dozens of fire elementals were conjured and the faceless, humanoid fire beings turned every single skeleton to ashes. In no more than seconds the souls of all those villagers trapped in undeath and doomed to a cursed half-life were finally released.

Silence fell over the village. Only the fire happily cracking, consuming a piece of wood here and there could be heard. The warriors were regaining their breath, hardly believing they managed to stay alive and healthy, save for a few scratches and bruises. Eny’s breath slowed down, her heart stopped racing and was slowly calming down. Her fire elementals stood still, illuminating the entire ruined village. There was no one speaking, no animal making noise and no wind blew. It was as if man, beast and nature alike mourned the fallen villagers.

They’re at rest now, Gilmore Sedgeley said calmly after some time. We were too late to save them but at least we gave them the peace of death.

* * *

But he, however – he was still blocked in the cellar, in complete darkness. The silence was nothing but torment to him. He kept wondering what was going on outside for a time that seemed like ages and although impatience was as strange of a thing to him as setting water on fire this particular time he felt he could not take it any longer; he needed to see what came of his village, what came of all the people he had known all of his life. Despite already knowing all the answers deep inside and having already heard Sedgeley say that they were all dead, he needed to see it for himself or else he would not believe it; denial was too strong.

The silence was, however, soon to be broken by the voice of the sorceress. "Pluvio," she cast with a grimace on her face and rain started to fall from the pitch-black sky. All of the fires were put out rapidly and then the sorceress dispelled both her Water spell and the darkness spell that the lich had cast on the village in order to dim the starlit sky.

Let’s search the village, she said. Maybe there are survivors…somewhere in these ruins.

Survivors? the voice full of surprise of a young lad replied. You and the lich burnt, froze and blew away the entire village. If anyone managed to escape the blades and claws of the undead, they are most likely either icicles or scattered ashes by now.

That the sorceress was greatly annoyed by those words was clear as daylight but she knew she should have gotten used by now to Ryker’s irritating attitude. She refrained from replying and did not display any sign that she had actually heard him, choosing the wiser way of completely ignoring him. In spite of being a good fellow at heart, having an irritating attitude was as defining a trait to Ryker as being dark was to night.

The darkness spell has been lifted, Enya continued. The starlit sky will make our search much easier.

Nobody argued this time. They searched a while but without much hope and when Seireadan Bardrick managed to trip over some wood and got up cursing about swamp insects and molluscs with the fury of a tornado everyone took it as a signal that it was time for them to stop. As per usual, Delph Ryker burst out laughing when he heard Bardrick cursing, but then again, he did have the weirdest kind of swearing they ever heard.

They are all dead! Bardrick said, still visibly annoyed. We’re wasting our time here. There’s nothing but goddamn bones, ash and as much blasted wood as asp mosquitoes in the swamp of Caecae! We should have been on our way ages ago.

I completely agree, Ryker said. We should go before a piece of wood actually succeeds in killing Bardrick off or at least impaling him or something.

I am not in the mood, kid! Bardrick replied threateningly. Why don’t you try tripping over and see how fun is that?

No thanks, Ryker replied drily. I am not one to bite the dust.

You impudent, annoying, cowardly piece of dragonfly dung! How dare you— Bardrick furiously exclaimed and was about to teach Ryker a lesson when Gilmore Sedgeley stopped him with a move of his hand.

Cut it out, you two! Sedgeley said with an air of authority. Ease the tension!

Gilmore Sedgeley was a quiet but imposing warrior. He seldom talked but when he did, he would always say something meaningful, important or smart; he was like a second voice of reason inside the group, beside Enya Firebrand. It was for this reason that his companions had learned to respect and obey him whenever he would say something resembling an order, despite him never claiming the mantle of a leader. He and the sorceress always had the final say when it came to deciding what quest the Living Alliance should embark on next.

Enya cast one final glance.

Very well, we’re leaving, she agreed.

But then, when they lost every bit of hope of finding someone alive, the unexpected happened yet again, the faded sound of someone shouting managed at last to reach their ears. The young man had realised that if he let those people leave, he was going to die trapped in that humid cellar, all alone and freezing. This realisation, both horrible and ironic to him given that he had a profound love towards coldness, proved motivating enough for him to muster the courage to fight and defeat the paralysing fear that took over his mind and so his muffled voice finally made itself heard.

Help! he shouted. "Help!" he called even louder.

Bloody gill of a giant squid! Bardrick exclaimed. Someone’s alive! Someone actually managed to stay alive!

Where did the voice come from? the sorceress asked.

I think it came from under that pile of lumber, Ryker responded. The building must have collapsed on him.

Help! the young man shouted once more with all the might he could muster. I’m in the cellar!

Get back! Enya ordered the others. "I’m gonna blow it away. Potens Eurus!"

The most furious wind he ever heard started to blow. Despite not being able to feel it, the sound of it alone was terrifying. Soon enough though, the wind stopped having blown away the entire ruined building and the trapdoor of the cellar was opened.

A pair of strong arms pulled him out of the cellar. Bloody fangs of a basilisk, we almost left you here to die. Are you alright, lad?

He did not answer. He looked around; ashes, bones, flesh, pieces of wood and frost everywhere. A feeling of hollowness started to overtake him, as if a part of him died at the moment of seeing what came of his village, of his home. The place where he spent his childhood, where he grew up – torn apart and burnt down; all the people he knew – butchered, spoiled and murdered by the dead. He moved one step forward, shaking, but to his great horror he noticed he had stepped on something soft, slippery and moist. He looked down and he recognised the deformed face of his now dead uncle. The disgust was overwhelming. And then the image darkened; he had passed out.

* * *

It was a terrible headache that woke him up. He had had the strangest dream ever; his village had been destroyed by undead and all of its inhabitants raised as skeletons, doomed to serve the lich that had cast the Necromantic spell. All he had to do now was open his eyes and cast away these dark thoughts. Or so he thought. When he did open his eyes, the familiar image of his small room was, however, not the one to appear before his eyes. He was inside a cave.

What do you reckon we do with them? somebody asked.

There is something strange about them, the familiar voice of a woman replied. It’s as if something inside them lay dormant, waiting to be awakened. It feels both foreign and familiar at the same time. There is, without a doubt, great potential hidden in them.

I see, you must be thinking about the ancient legend, Gilmore Sedgeley replied. But they’re just kids, Enya. We can’t take them with us. We can’t assure their protection.

Don’t be too hasty to assume they need protection, Sedgeley, the sorceress replied. I am certain they’re stronger than they seem. I really sense it in them, they just don’t know it yet. Besides, if the Reckoning Wars are truly about to begin nobody is going to be safe anymore.

Well, Ryker’s just a boy and he proved to be extremely useful, the little lad, didn’t he? someone else intervened. I mean he can be annoying as hell sometimes and would not hesitate to make fun of someone who tripped over some wood but the fella’s a true survivor. Not only can he take care of himself but he’s also the most agile and slippery scout I’ve ever seen. Maybe…maybe they could prove useful and help, as well.

It is not like we wouldn’t need the help, Sedgeley replied calmly. After all our cause puts us all in constant mortal danger. But if we take them with us…and they die…we will have to live with that.

It is the burden of our duty, Enya replied after a short moment of silence. We must do everything in our power to prevent total destruction, even if we have to put innocent lives at risk.

It was at this moment that the young man stood up and he finally glanced at his rescuers.

The sorceress and Gilmore Sedgeley were gazing towards the entrance of the cave, somewhere in the far distance. Seireadan Bardrick, who sat against a wall, was the first to notice him.

Are you alright, lad? Slept well? he asked. The young man looked at Bardrick, confused. Enya and Sedgeley turned to face him. That was quite the nap, you know? Reluctant to leave the realm of dreams, were you? Bardrick continued.

I…don’t know, the young man faintly replied. My head hurts terribly. Can’t think straight…

I might be able to do something about it, Enya replied. "But I’m not particularly skilled in Green magic so it might not go away completely. Corpore Sano."

Instantly, the grimace the pain had painted on the young man’s face vanished. Any better? Bardrick asked.

Yes…sir. A lot, he replied.

"Sir? Well, I don’t recall ever being called that before, he chuckled. What’s your name, lad?"

Name’s Calldwr…Calldwr Kane.

Kane… Well, that’s a strong name, boy, Bardrick said and his tone made it sound like a praise. That’s the kind of name a warrior would have. Join our cause and you will have the opportunity to revel in the glory won in tempestuous battles and unlikely triumphs against the filthy undead!

Bardrick sounded all lit up when he finished the sentence. Calldwr looked even more confused.

But more on that later, he said and the fire that burned vividly in his eyes for several moments dissipated. For now, allow me to make the introductions.

This is Enya Firebrand… he said pointing at the young sorceress.

Calldwr took this opportunity to study her better. The woman he had heard during the battle was a young lady, looking to be in her mid-twenties. She was fully dressed in black, with a long robe and black leather armour. She nodded when Bardrick pointed at her and even a thin smile appeared on her face but it vanished almost the second it appeared and the serious look returned. Calldwr could not help but feel a little awkward due to her cold attitude but he had to admit that she was indeed quite pretty. She actually seemed radiant to him, with her black outfit remarkably highlighting her white skin, blue eyes and blonde hair and made efforts not to blush.

…and this is Gilmore Sedgeley, he continued, pointing at the tall warrior that stood beside Enya.

Sedgeley did not have a very muscular physique, but the long sword whose sheath had strange runes inscribed on it and was long enough that it almost touched the ground denoted that a great deal of strength was required in order to be wielded. He was fully dressed in black armour, similar to Enya’s but