The Realmsic Conquest: The Hero of Legend - Book 1 [2015 Watty Award Winner]

Chapter Forty

Overwhelming agony gripped Maebus' heart as the Realmsic Castle came into view. Seeing it for the first time in weeks, he felt like an outsider looking in. Though he kept his expression stoic, his soul wept. It wept for his kingdom, for his people, for his failure to protect them. His return to Centre Pointe was that of a defeated, broken man. Despite his best efforts, his own kingdom remained in the hands of a monster who would soon have the most powerful entity in all creation. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He rode inside a prison carriage that rattled north. The wood plank floor creaked incessantly, vibrating from ruts in the dirt road. The carriage's interior was dark, save for the thin rays of light shining through the cracks of the slatted sides. The openings were just large enough to see the outside world passing by in a hurried blur, yet not large enough to release the stench of sweat and mildew emanating from within.

Looking outward as far as the cracks would allow, Maebus was devastated at the condition of the kingdom. Damian had allowed his Legion to pillage and decimate the land. Yet, no onlookers could be seen. It appeared as if precautions were made to sneak them into Centre Pointe undetected. He figured the last thing Damian needed was a civil uprising inspired by their captured King.

Maebus looked away. He sat chained to the floor and leaned the back of his head against the carriage. The rumbling of its wheels against the dirt road jerked him from side to side, thumping his head as violently as the guilt within his body. Normandy, Fable, and Kelm sat chained by his side—the braces preventing any use of magic.

He'd quite likely led them to their doom. Fable's home and all its precious possessions had been senselessly destroyed. The historic significance of what was lost could never be replaced. Maebus sank deeper into abasement, wishing he'd been killed rather than having to live with the humiliation of his failure.

• • • • •

Kelm sat across the carriage from Maebus, observing him peering desperately through the cracks of its slatted sides. Kelm could tell his friend was emotionally depleted. Yet he was dealing with his own internal crisis. But as usual, his own needs would have to wait. He couldn't allow Maebus to lose hope. If that were to happen, then the Realm truly was defeated.

Kelm cleared his throat before speaking. He couldn't afford it cracking or sounding weak. Not right now. Not at this critical moment.

"All is not lost," he said sternly.

No one responded.

"I'm serious! This isn't over, and—"

"Yes, it is," Maebus interrupted.

Kelm tried to establish eye contact with him through the dark interior. "Look, I know this seems bad," he paused for a moment, "and, in fact, it is. But we have to stay strong. We have to maintain hope. If we lose that, then Damian truly does win. Despite our setbacks, I believe that all we've done so far will ultimately help us to prevail."

Kelm could see Maebus' eyes soften for just an instant. Then they hardened. "You're a fool, Wizard." His words stung Kelm. "I, too, am a fool. Everything we've done has been wasted effort. It was ignorance that gave us hope, and it's your arrogance that maintains it. I now see reality for what it is, and I believe that Damian has won. It's all over. It's all ... utterly over."

Kelm's blood boiled. Never had his friend spoken to him in such a way. The atmosphere in the cramped carriage became suffocating with tension and misery. But it wasn't Maebus' temperament that angered Kelm. It was his self-pity. Anger percolated in the Wizard's stomach, bursting into his heart and burning his throat. He wanted to yell, You think you're the only one who hurts? I have nothing! We all have nothing! Yet, you have the nerve to call me arrogant?

But Kelm didn't say any of this. It wasn't in his nature. Even in the most dire of circumstances, he was conditioned to remain resolute and calm. Therefore, he stayed silent.

Except for the rattling of the wheels on the road, the carriage was quiet. Each man seemed lost in his own feelings. When it jerked to an abrupt stop, the prisoners jolted against their chains. A commotion outside the carriage drew their attention. Horses whined, chains rattled, and men spoke in muffled voices, punctuated by laughter. Normandy scowled when the sound of footsteps approached the back of the carriage. The doors swung open, and the harsh light of the outside world invaded their darkened space, blinding them all.

Kelm shielded his eyes from the light. As his vision cleared, blurred objects became full images. The carriage stood outside the main gates of the Realmsic Castle. Solid and uninviting, the entrance loomed above them, oddly familiar and yet strangely foreign. A Legionarie flag now flew above the castle entrance. Upon seeing it, he knew Maebus' soul was probably filled with dread.

General Thane emerged from the other side of the carriage, his dirty beard harboring a huge grin. No doubt he was more than pleased with himself and his accomplishments. A Legionarie handed him a long metal chain.

Normandy looked at the chains in confusion, as they were already bound by magic braces.

"Unnecessary, perhaps. I know. But better safe than sorry," Thane explained. He then used the chain to connect the braces of each prisoner.

"March!" he commanded.

• • • • •

Two Legionarie escorts took the leads of the chains. They began jerking Maebus and the others through the castle's entrance. He fought against the restraints and with himself while forcing his feet to move forward. But each step was like walking deeper into a nightmare.

Upon entering the main structure, he was met with an unfamiliar chill that filled the air. Then came the eyes of his Legionarie captors. They peered at him from both the ground level and upper landings. He felt their gazes of shame. As the General entered, the interior erupted with cheers and shouts. Thane had accomplished the impossible. By securing the Realmsic Crystal, he'd also secured the Warlord's victory once and for all.

Parading around in circles, Thane pumped his long, muscled arms into the air. He twisted about, creating a spectacle of himself. His soldiers loved it. Pausing his dance only to crouch upon the ground, he then pointed upward at Maebus' chains.

"Behold! The mighty Realmsic King!" he shouted. "Not so mighty now, aye?" The Legionaries burst into laughter. Unruly and nearly uncontrollable, they banged their swords against any nearby surfaces and taunted Maebus, their prisoner—their sworn enemy.

Maebus endured the humiliation. He glanced toward his friends. Although they tried to hide it, he could see the fear in their eyes, which hurt Maebus most of all. At that moment, he accepted his fate. Whatever was to happen next was beyond his control. Yes, Damian would ultimately take his life, but he refused to let the Warlord take his dignity. For better or worse, he was still the Realmsic King. Therefore, Maebus stiffened his back, thrust out his chest, and lifted his head high.

Such an action only emboldened his ridiculers. The room became even louder than before. Thane, however, was no longer laughing. He grabbed Maebus' chains and pushed him forward. Maebus suddenly felt the General's palm pressed upon his back, and his words whispered into his ear, "Even in defeat, you are dignified. Enemy or not, a soldier doesn't deserved this ridicule." Maebus turned his head to stare at Thane, unsure if he really heard what he thought he did. But the General was already looking the opposite way.

"Come on you lugs, fun's over!" he ordered to his escorts. "We need to get them to the Warlord."

Resuming his lead of the procession, Thane marched Maebus and the other prisoners out of the main structure toward the Great Hall, leaving behind a frenzy of whistles and shouts.

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