History of the Realm

Chapter 8

Oryx had returned to his homeland. The sounds of war filled his ears.

It had been ridiculously easy thus far. As their magic could overwhelm mithril’s magic-containing capabilities, the gods single-handedly broke the mithril armor of Aldan’s fighters, leaving them defenseless against the swarms of hobbits, both living and undead.

Now, the fight had intensified. Septavius, knowing full well who was attacking him and his army, had awakened the full defenses of the castle. Armors possessed by the souls of the slain, mysterious creatures and mighty soldiers made from pure darkness, poured out from the walls and stalled the advance of Oryx’s army.

Oryx failed to care. He drew back the string of his bow, and shattered seven of the haunted armors at once. His rudimentary hunting bow had been strengthened by the Ancient One’s enchantments, turning black and white and quivering slightly with its mighty power. Several Aldan archers returned fire, but their arrows merely bounced off of his thick black armor.

Malphas had approached him after his meeting with the Ancient One, with a suit of black plate armor. “This suit was created by the Ancient One with the darkness that existed before the world. Its power is the substance of legends. Go, Oryx, with the power of the gods protecting you.”

Upon donning it, Oryx had felt an immense surge of magical power, followed by a flowing of darkness across his soul. Malphas grinned. “Few mortals are capable of withstanding the armor’s amplifying of their soul’s darkness, yet that is how the armor becomes so powerful. Most have simply been driven mad.”

“Then I must become a Mad God, for the sake of the world.”

The courtyard was clear. Oryx walked past the corpses of his godly allies and their shadow-spawned killers. Suddenly, Oryx heard a whistling noise, then flinched in his armor as a massive stone sword landed an arm’s breadth from him. Bright yellow spirals shot out from the sword, paralyzing his army and preventing them from advancing a step further.

Oryx leaped and set his foot upon the sword’s hilt. Jumping from the sword, Oryx pulled back the bowstring with an arrow nocked and charged across the draw-bridge into the heart of the castle.

Two massive soldiers, standing as tall as two gods, flanked Septavius, who wore a spiky set of mithril armor. Oryx paused.

“So, Corinth, you make the skies rain with the blood of your would-be subjects, and now you come for the throne.”

“I come to avenge Eliza, the Aldanamagnus.”

The guardians beside Septavius began to appear distracted. Confusion radiated off of them like heat from a fire. Oryx looked to them, and saw the leaders of the Aldanamagnus’ guard. He cast a spell and removed Septavius’ memory-tampers, and the guardians remembered Elijah Aldanassari’s betrayal. Oryx cast a paralyzing spell upon his bow and let his arrow fly, freezing his father in place with the same spell Septavius had used against the guardians so many years ago.

Oryx turned away. “He’s all yours,” he spoke to the Guardians. He heard the now-familiar shattering of mithril and the agonized grunts of Septavius as the Guardians repaid him for his sister’s murder.