Redemption: A Spellbound Inc Fantasy Story

Preface Chapter 1

As black clouds swirled in the usually clear pink and purple sky, thunder boomed, echoing across the sky. Lightning flashed, white streams of light gleaming against the sky.

 As sudden as the thunder, black rain started pouring down in torrents, flying towards the ground like little bullets, soaking the once dry land.

The ground, usually bright green with wildflowers blooming, was white and dead. The flowers turned brown and wilted. And it was dark. Almost pitch black. No light seemed to have escaped from the black clouds above.

The only thing that could be seen was two armies. One on the far right side of the land, and one on the left side.

The army on the right side was King Warrick's. The soldiers stood there, cold sweat running down their foreheads and chests, seeping into their hot metal armor.

 It wasn't hot, quite the opposite, in fact. A cold chill ran through the air, making the soldiers huddle together ever closer.

King Warrick's soldiers were wearing gold plated armor, and on top of the helmets there were feathers on top, dyed red for the occasion. Axes, swords and maces all sat sheathed by their owner's sides. The soldiers in front were sitting atop horses painted with red. The men looked to the other army, shaking with fear and adrenaline as they got ready for war.

On the left side, the army was wearing all black plated armor. It was the darkest of black, like shadow had taken form in these soldiers. Their horses were also pitch black, like the night. 

Their leader, whose name is unknown, was wearing armor that was known to be impenetrable. Thick, black armor coated in razor sharp spikes that protruded outward. His starry black eyes scanned the other side, not moving a muscle. 

In front of the troops of the soldiers on the right side, was their leader. King Warrick the 3rd.

 Warrick was wearing an entirely red outfit made of leather. And he had no helmet atop his bright, fiery red hair.

 His hair went down to his shoulders. You could say he had a foxlike appearance.

His fiery orange eyes scanned the other side, trying to figure out a weakness. He spurred his horse to face towards his troops. He didn't smile, for there was no glory in war. He raised his fist for quiet, and the whispering died down as the soldiers faced their leader.

"My dear friends and companions," Warrick's voice boomed loudly, so that even the troops in the back could hear. "We are here today, not to kill our enemies, but to help save our kingdom. So do not be fearful my friends, for we fight!" Warrick raised his shiny silver sword upwards towards the heavens, and the others screamed as they all raised their weapons as one. The gleam of weapons shined in Warrick's eyes as he pumped his sword in the air, chanting.

 Warrick turned his horse around, towards the other army and glared intensely at their leader, who stared back with hate in his eyes.

There was a moment of silence before Warrick raised his sword and screamed, "CHARGE!!" He spurred his horse forward, and he could hear thousands of horse hoofbeats behind him. It sounded like drums pounding behind him.

He could see the other army just sitting there not moving, and he had an idea. "HALF OF YOU, COME WITH ME!" He screamed loudly, focusing only on where he was going and not behind him.

 He didn't know if anyone heard him, but he pulled on the reigns to turn right, and the horse followed his lead, sprinting to the right side of the other army.

 His idea was that he going to come at the other army sideways and behind. Half his army following him to the right, then the other half of his army behind.

 He turned his head to look behind him, hair slapping in his face, and he saw that half the army split to come behind him. He faced forward and was immediately faced with an enemy in black. 

He flinched in surprise, but regained his composure and raised his sword, running towards the enemy.

The enemy seemed as surprised as he was, but before the man could even pull out his sword, Warrick sliced his blade through the man's stomach. The man just stood there for a minute, then the blade he had been holding clattered to the floor, and the man groaned and then collapsed.

But Warrick wasn't there to see the man die. Warrick led his horse on, sprinting to the back of the army, cutting any enemy that got in his way. 

Suddenly Warrick heard a horn blow. It sounded like a crowd of angels singing to him. 

 He looked to where the sound was coming from and saw that archers dressed in black were upon a hill, hiding under bushes. They already had arrows notched, and they were all pointed at him. Directly at him.

Fear started setting in for him. His breathing got heavier and his mind blanked. He didn't know what to do.

 His horse kept on running, but there Warrick was, not doing anything to help himself. His eyes darted to the archers again, and he saw the bows were still following him. Then a whole volley of arrows started flying directly at him. 

And he knew what he had to do, but it didn't make it any easier. He needed to jump off his horse and have the risk that he'd be trampled by his own army. There was no other choice.

So he quickly jumped off his horse and curled up into a ball, then realized he'd be trampled if he stayed like that, so he rolled away, and just in time. If he'd stayed where he had been, he would have instantly died.

In the distance, Warrick heard his horse cry out in pain, then he heard a loud thud. Warrick hurriedly got up, and saw that his horse was lying on the ground, a few hundred arrows in his side. A tear fell down Warrick's cheek, but he quickly wiped it away. His troops needed to have hope. Not to see their leader break down in front of them. 

As sudden as his horses' death, an arm wrapped around Warrick's neck, choking him. Warrick tried grabbing his sword, but the arm wrapped ever tighter around his neck, turning his face red. Warrick gurgled, choking out, trying to get air into his system, but no luck.

 He dropped to the ground then grabbed his sword, which was now covered in thick blood and turned to his attacker.

He gasped in surprise as he saw who it was. It was the leader of the other army. Warrick was brave, but he wavered as he saw into the eyes of this man. It was sadness. Guilt. 

"I don't want to have to do this," Warrick said, lowering his sword.

The man in black just smiled, and all the sadness and guilt in his eyes turned to madness. Unfiltered, rage inducing madness.

 The man flung his sword out at Warrick, and Warrick had to roll on the ground to dodge it. His sword was gigantic.

 The man kept on flinging his sword left and right, and all Warrick could do was block them. He couldn't get a strike in. Warrick stumbled backwards, trying to get the edge in, but the man was too skilled. Too strong.

Warrick yelped as his attacker disarmed him and was about to cut him down when Warrick hurriedly climbed up a steep hill.

He ran a little ways away, and when he was atop a very tall cliff, he looked down at the battlefield, where time suddenly seemed to stop. 

His army had been cut by more than half. Only a couple hundred men and women were left. He turned back towards his attacker and saw that he wasn't going to stop until Warrick was dead.

So he did the only thing he knew he had to do. Even if it made Warrick want to die.

"RETREAT! RUN AWAY! RETREAT!" He screamed at the top of his lungs. 

Warrick scurried backwards, then full on sprinted towards the other side of the cliff, then realized the cliff was by the ocean. 

He sighed, then took a deep breath. Then, he jumped in the water and swam as fast as he could towards an abandoned island.