DESTRUCTIVE MYTH
War

War, a dreaded feeling for most. Some have said it’s palpable the way it hangs in the air. Most times before war horns are blown, drums are beaten, thunderous hooves are heard. You can feel it, an invitation to dine with death. You wait for the course line up, wondering if you will be the next to be carved up, and served to the dogs.

Standing on the battlements with every able man and son, Galaleiath looked over the burnt land. All that separated the queen and her army now were shells of homes, rubble, and smoke from a city that once thrived. The castle they were about to defend would soon fall.

Any moment now the Black Maser would advance, flood through the streets, lap over the walls, and wash them out. He turned to one of his men; spotting a tremble in his jaw, but he stood tall. Although their faces were that of brave men, they all knew the numbers were against them. No words of hope or strength were given. A fool could see they were going to lose. The commander turned to face Galaleiath awaiting his orders, the sound of marching men drowning out any other. He nodded, giving the go-ahead before walking away.

“Light,” The commander called, and each soldier dipped their arrows into the barrels nearby, lighting them with fire. Galaleiath watched a few men shake uncontrollably as he passed. It was the cold, he heard a few say - a lie. Impending death rattled most men.

“Draw.”

Galaleiath stopped, palm on his sword’s hilt, turning to see the first wave advancing. They were almost in range and would drop like flies from the glowing arrows, a necessary sacrifice to keep eyes on the front.

“Hold,”

He looked back as the commander’s arm went up and followed the row of lined up, lit arrows framing every inch of the castle walls. He carried on down the wall towards the stairs, stopping one last time to watch the arrows let loose, into the grey sky thick with snow clouds. If it fell again, he might lose sight of the queen through the haze. He needed her signal.

The clashing of shields and war cries started as the Black Maser deflected as many arrows as they could.

“Draw,” The repeat command was called. Down the stairs, he made his way through the armored crowds waiting for the patched-up gate to break open again. Through the stock piles, of barrels and anything left to fling the catapult with, through the front door, into the mostly hollow castle. He looked up the grand staircase towards where the king was; King Zitex would be encircled with his personal guards and warlocks, standing on an enclosed balcony that overlooked the main gates, just off the throne room. King Zitex had said when he surrendered it would be there. The problem Galaleiath was now faced though; the throne room had been warded and trapped, trapped beyond even his magical knowledge.

Taking the stairs two at a time he reached a few corridors and headed towards the west tower where those loyal to him waited. It’s where the king wanted him to be overseeing the war, commanding from up high, letting loose his magic onto those that climbed over the walls. It was a brilliant plan, yet untraditional. In all the wars he had been in, the king, lords, and those fit for war that owned an army, lead the army. Just another reason he found the king to be unfit to rule.

“Ready?”

“Yes, my lord.” Replied ten men, and two witches.

“Good, now we wait.” Taking a step forward to the edge of the tower, placing a hand on the railing he looked down so his commanders on the castle wall could see him, and sure enough, they looked up to him, waiting for the signals.

Each time the Black Maser men advanced, he raised his arm giving the signal to pull the leavers on the catapults. A smirk pulled at his lips watching the massacre. Nothing was particularly humorous about war, but the fact that his queen had let him kill both sides with no regard, and neither side truly knew who he was loyal to, amused him.

Showing some interest, he let the witches kill who they wanted, watching in curious fascination at their spells used. The attack on the wall was brutal, as much as the Zitex men tried to defend best they could, the mass that was the Black Maser just flooded in. Within the first two hours, the gate had been smashed in again, and all those in the yard were fighting for their lives. Galaleiath put up a show with his witches sending fireballs down on those that tried to reach the castle main entrance, the ten men shooting arrows at any and all that tried other routes of entry, all focus was on the front, even the king’s warlocks were actively unleashing their powers on the enemy from their tower.

Finally true to her word, Queen Dimas at the back of her army gave the signal, dropping the Black Maser flag from her chariot. He watched as her chariot pulled by two black horses raced around the raging war, back into the hills followed by a group of her riders.

“And so, it begins.” He said turning from the tower edge, making his way down the stairs to the main halls.

“My Lord?” A few soldiers asked in surprise as he entered with his men, this was not the plan, they were all given specific areas to remain.

“Plans have changed, to the main entrance.” He called passing them. The first wave of men positioned to protect all entrances towards the king, obeyed without delay, running in unison towards the castle front. As seen from the tower the doors were now being rammed with all the Black Maser had.

Inside the walls Zitex men held it closed with every heavy object they could, throwing themselves against it. As the soldiers marched in, the castle doors burst halfway open and both sides began to stab the other trying to climb over the obstructions.

Passing more men now running to the scene, Galaleiath stopped at the entrance of the dungeon nodding to his men before disappearing down the stairs. The ten men stood guard, as instructed to secure the area, ensuring no Zitex soldiers presented an obstacle. Reaching the bottom of the stairs he opened the dungeon door expecting to find an empty room.

“What are you doing down here?’’ He stopped before an odd twenty soldiers sitting near the entrance, jumping as he entered. “Cowering away?”

“No, my lord, we guard the dungeons.” One answered defiantly.

“You wish to guard these prisoners? Most of these criminals want you dead, the other half wish to die.”

“Orders are orders.”

“I am the master of war; I do not recall giving this order.” He stared the one down, these men were nothing but weaklings hiding away from the battle, he had made sure the dungeons would be empty, not that it could stop them now.

“The king requested it.” One voiced, he looked at the man as the others around shared uneasy looks.

“Very well,” Galaleiath smirked passing them to enter deeper into the dungeons. “Have it your way.”

“My lord?”

He ignored them walking forward, pulling his map out from inside his coat, confirming his direction. There was no need to answer their confused calls, they would be dead soon. Taking the fifth right he passed several more pleading prisoners, they could all hear the sounds of war above them, wishing to be freed. He stopped before one at the end of the wall and looked into the big eyes holding both hands before him, begging for freedom. The walls shook again from the catapult effects as he unlocked the cell. Stepping aside he jerked his head to the left, signaling the prisoner to leave. What was the point of keeping prisoners now? The inmate scrambled to his feet fleeing the cell without question.

The underground tunnels were through this particular cell’s back wall, odd that it would be covered up with no noticeable door. Stepping back Galaleiath held the hilt of his sword in its sheath, raising his right hand up to the wall, he twisted his fist to the right as a dark olive power flowed out of him, cracking and breaking the wall till it crumbled to the floor. The dust settled presenting dark shadows growing in size illuminated by a red faint light.

“My Queen.” He smiled stepping aside in a quick bow. From the darkness entered Queen Dimas, trailed by a large score of men.

“Galaleiath, it has been too long.” She extended her arm hooking a long midnight nail under his chin, tilting his face to look at hers. If it could be called a smile, perhaps it would be, but Dimas’s lips thinned slightly as she looked at the stubble on his jaw, the way his black hair had been braided at the sides in war knots, that ran down his back displaying his pointed ears proudly, his eyes held respect for her, and something else. A restlessness about him that had nothing to do with the war they were in. “You don’t sleep, why?”

Tilting his head back, free of her nail he clicked his neck to the side, “You haven’t seen me in almost a decade and you worry about my sleep schedule.” He smirked “I am at the top of my game; you need not fear your majesty.”

“Fear? Oh no my dear, I never fear, but if it affects your performance today, do not expect me to show you mercy, you either want this or fail and I take it.” She said plainly stepping past the rubble out into the corridor.

“I will not fail,” Galaleiath replied walking alongside her.

A loud boom shook through echoing past them, shaking dust and parts of walls loose.

“I take it we have breached the walls.” She smiled at him, Galaleiath nodded. Another crash rang through the dungeon as a part of it crumbled far behind them, sending a cloud of dust rushing towards them snuffing out every torch along the dungeon walls. The soldiers who had followed framed them with their shields till it settled, and she stood tall once more noticing for the first time that some of the cells were still full in the dim, almost non-existent light.

“Where is the king?” She asked staring down at a prisoner, watching them in stunned horror.

“We will find him in the throne room.” Galaleiath bowed leading the way, looking over his shoulder to her still transfixed on the prisoner. “My Queen?”

“I believe you met another elf recently?” She whispered curling her fingers up into fists at her side. Galaleiath stopped, clenching his jaw as the rage bubbled up inside him again.

“Yes, the main reason for my unrest.”

“Hmm,” She opened her hands as a black and red smoke drifted out, falling like fog, down the bars, creeping over the floors it grew in size, gliding across the floor all around them entering every corridor, cell, and hidden corners of the dungeon.

“Why keep prisoners when they are not yours.” Queen Dimas smiled through the dark light curling her fingers closed as the smoke entered the cell before them stripping the prisoner of flesh, screams, and blood till he was nothing but bone, then dust. Howls of agony drifted up towards them seeming to be the result of the red smoke now glowing brighter, coming nearer, lapping at his boots. He looked down fearless, the queen would not harm him. Turning back to the front, watching her amused smile he walked on leading her and the men forward, till he heard the guards he had left in by the entrance in a panic.

What a fright they must have looked like coming towards them; he was kitted out in black armor from his neck down to his boots. He looked back at Dimas; she wore a black too. A long-sleeved, tight-fitted dress, that hooked over her middle fingers with silver rings, black and silver engraved armor wrapped around her wrists up to her elbows with dangerously sharp hooks at the ends. A black armored corset framed her breasts, down her slender abdomen ending at the hips. She wore steel engraved boots that plated together up her calves, ending in sharp points above her knees. Her long midnight hair had been braided into a crown above her head, with silver spikes worked through each braid displaying a deadly view of royalty. Trailed by her soldiers armored in black from head to toe illuminated by red magic smoke, Galaleiath couldn’t help but smile, they looked to be death’s best friends.

“Run,” The guards panicked backing up to the main door leading up to the castle. A smile still on his face as he carried on forward drawing his sword as the red smoke flowed forward, swirling and folding over the stone floor fading before him. The cowards had run faster than he had anticipated, straight into his men guarding the door on top. Grunts and clashing of swords were heard till it fell silent again. Climbing the stairs, they entered one of the main halls and he nodded to his men as they bowed to Queen Dimas.

“Enough formalities,” She waved dismissively as they all turned to a group of soldiers rushing towards them.

Having waited so long Galaleiath charged at them with his men, hacking through them with ease.

“This way,” He called stalking forward to the main staircase slicing through more Zitex men, trying to force them back down, but with Dimas and Galaleiath it was pointless, their magic and skills in war were unmatched in the castle thus far.

Step by clashing step they made their way up the main steps, and as much as Galaleiath enjoyed the satisfaction of killing, he admired the way Queen Dimas’s made it seem effortless. She was not a queen to stand on the sidelines and watch, the terrifying smile that lit her face after draining a life, was not something he could explain.

“Not that way.” He called out stopping the Black Maser men behind them beginning to fan off both sides. To the left were empty rooms, his room, abandoned ballrooms, and one large barred-up parlor he wanted to enter himself later, filled with the Zitex beauties. His war spoils.

Approaching the throne room, they felt the wards immediately. “If I walk through them, I’m not sure what will happen.” Galaleiath halted, inches from an almost invisible humming. Curling his lip up in distaste at the goldarn patterns floating in the air before them. Dimas raised an eyebrow doing a quick calculation of the different wards zig-zagged across the room, every square inch had been covered, thoroughly.

“Let’s find out,” She sighed turning to one of her men behind her, placing her hand on his helmet, she yanked him forward, passed her into the ward. The man screamed as his armor melted on him, then him till there was nothing left. She looked up from the liquid mess on the ground to the ward, it had faded slightly but would still do the same damage to another a couple more times. “Fire magic.” Taking a step back four warlocks and the witches with Galaleiath stepped up to her side beginning to chant, palms faced to the wards. The floor trembled as Dimas clapped her hands together creating a shock wave that shook through the throne room cracking the floors, a test to see if the wards might break, they remained strong. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The after-effects had a group of wizards appeared at the other end of the room, framed by the king’s personal guard and soldiers. Dimas looked at the wards noticing a few fade, while others were still being eliminated.

“Where is your king?” She smiled looking up to the other side, cocking her head slightly. They responded with blasts of fireballs and arrows, Galaleiath stepper nearer to Dimas as they both swiped their dominant hand through the air deflecting the blast. Dimas looked towards her warlocks still working on bringing down the wards, as another wave of fireballs came flying towards them. Dimas single handily deflected as Galaleiath turned away to defend the attack they were now facing from the back. The war had made its way indoors pushing most of the force towards them.

“Break the wards now!” Dimas hissed wiping the blood beginning to drip from her nose; the constant deflecting of magic was beginning to take its toll. She had tried to throw back their power but it just sizzled and disappeared into the wards, a clever defense from Zitex.

“Charge,” Galaleiath called from the other end as he opened his hands releasing electric charges down the stairs at the first wave of men. It crackled and sparked bouncing off some men’s armor while penetrating others. A nearby pillar was stripped of its stone, crumbled and molded into solid rock by a warlock within the crowd, sending it hurling towards Galaleiath. He ducked as it soared past him, breaking through the wall behind and the next till it came to a stop. Getting back up a group of men charged at him, swords pointed forward, he placed his palm flat on the stair creating a shock wave throwing them off their feet.

“Protect your queen.” Galaleiath roared grabbing his sword, stabbing another looking back at his men. The area had become crowded with hundreds from both sides; clashing of swords, booming of magic, cries of death, collapsing supports. Pulling back, he left the Black Maser men to push back the masses, narrowly missing another boulder coming his way. Nearing his queen, a fireball blasted for him. Pushing out both hands he managed to catch it, twisting it around to send back down the stairs.

“Are the wards nearly down?” He called picking up his sword nearing Dimas.

“Almost,” She snapped blocking more arrows flying their way. Galaleiath looked to either side of the warlocks working on the wards, two had already given their lives trying to break it and one of his witches remained. “I have an idea.” With that he turned back to the sounds of war, looking for the largest boulder sent his way. With a little bit of supernatural strength and determination, he stepped behind it, looking down the corridor to where they were blocked.

“Step aside.” He roared taking a few steps back, he jogged forward kicking the boulder forcefully. It launched trailed by his magic rolling forward with outstanding speed, flattening the dead in its path, it passed the front row including Dimas, and burst through the fading wards. The boulder instantly caught alight melting slowly to nothing, but it didn’t stop the speed at which it traveled, just reaching the other end, killing a few archers.

“Finally.” Dimas smiled, “Another.” She commanded, Galaleiath searched for another as Dimas continued to wave off the attacked flying over the wards protecting her men.

Galaleiath found a few more sending each one through successfully, till finally, the wards came down, and the remaining Black Maser warlocks fell to their knees exhausted. He understood it, King Zitex had made his warlocks work on the wards for a full day sealing the final one only an hour before the war had begun.

Neither side moved for a few heartbeats as the wards died.

“Where, is your king?” Dimas asked again taking a confidant step forward into the throne room. “Does he cower behind you?”

Galaleiath and her men stepped forward staying close to her, the Zitex wizards took a step forward in a solid line ready for the next attack. The room fell silent neither side making the next move. Dimas’s maroon eyes swept the line up as a dark laugh escaped her lips.

“I heard rumors, of his many wives being brainless beauties from all across the land,” She spun in a circle stopping a step nearer before them still stationed at the other end of the room, leaning slightly forward she whispered loudly, “Brainless yes, beauty?” She tsked shaking her head, looking them up and down. A few began to understand the insult tightening their grips over their weapons. “And I promised my men a good time, but you ladies seem rather dull,” she smiled blinking slowly licking her top lip, looking back at Galaleiath with a smirk on his face. “Perhaps king Zitex should put on a skirt for them.”

They charged as she knew they would, and both sides climbed into each other hungry for death. Dimas and Galaleiath weaved and hacked their way through to the back, bursting open the doors that lead to the balcony, the kings said to be stronghold.

The king and eight wizards spun around from the balcony’s edge clearly trying to rain fire down below and faced them. The king was layered in gold and silver armor, notched his head higher bravely seeing Dimas.

“And so, you finally made it in.”

“After all these years.” She smiled taking a step forward. The wizards instantly encircled the king and Galaleiath launched to her side ready to defend.

“Galaleiath?” Came the stunned disbelief in the king’s voice.

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