Volume 2: Arc 1: Chapter 7

AUTHOR'S NOTE

A few things. I changed Asur from a God to something else. He's more of an opposing force now to the Overlord. It came up in editing and you will see more of his nature here. Also, I'm adding 4k to Nisa's character development. I felt her character was underdeveloped and I believe the rating about that does have some credence in that regard but I feel more that people are up voting that b/c they don't like the tragedy genre. But, that is a personal opinion and everyone has a right to like what they want.

If you haven't already, check out fleenyworks.com where I'm uploading the edited version (slowly)

And please rate me here http://www.royalroadl.com/fiction/1666

October 18, 32 R.E

The month passed with a quiet disregard. Fall began to turn to winter as thick rains shrouded the Western Territories in a dense fog. And dense, it was. The God-Kings, those who were pronounced the mightiest of the Regas Realm, known for their prescient knowledge of all, did not see the events that began to brew in the most chaotic of places. The kings and emperors of Vashin, distracted with their petty wars, turned their eyes towards the west with a calculated disregard. They saw just another clash of the barbarian dukes. A small conflict below their interest. In time, they would regret their dismissal of the conflict that had yet to come.

Poshani prepared their instruments of war as Kankur paced, uncertain. Duke Seras, new to his position, fretted aimlessly in the cavernous halls of his half-constructed palace while his advisors clashed, some too arrogant to see a logical path while others too weak to grasp it.

As word came of Poshani’s plans, Seras against his advisor’s ministrations, agreed to Poshani’s terms. After weeks of no response, Poshani sent a message that could not be misinterpreted.

The Raven had returned. Blood-soaked and wretched, the beast had its wings severed at the joints. By the way its legs were pockmarked with blisters and lined with cuts and abrasions, it walked the four-hundred miles from Poshani to Kankur.

The message was an old saying in the Western Territories. As the Ventros were new to the area, they did know its meaning. However, many of Duke Seras’ advisors understood the message. Cries emanated from the great halls of Kankur as the message, harsh in its meaning, found the light of day.

The wings of the Gods make a marvelous tool but they can fail at any time.

Duke Cajin meant to clip Kankur’s wings, and in so doing, make the duchy subservient to Poshani. As word of this proclamation spread, Duke Dashish of Canoths responded first. Hostitly emanated from the messenger he sent to Poshani in his stead as the stout, yet, refined man denounced Duke Cajin in the most final of terms.

War.

That very day, Canoths announced a formal alliance with Kankur. Many within Poshani were surprised at the development. While it was well-known Dashish let his emotions rule him from time-to-time, Canthos was embroiled in a war with Telbor. However, those within Poshani did not account for the fact that Kankur was already considered a duchy of the Western Territories while, inside Poshani, it was still considered a piece of Duke Cajin’s land.

Canthos saw the proclamation as a direct threat from their neighbor to the south. This fact mattered little in the end as Duke Peliandor and Telbor allied themselves with Poshani soon after Canthos declared for Kankur. Duke Gomperi of Lethari, who would not be left out, declared himself and all of Lethari for the independence of Kankur so soon after Telbor declared their allegiance that later, it could not be said with clarity, who declared first.

In Kankur, the people panicked. Once again, their city would become a battleground for their very existence. This time, however, their hero, Rajac Rashak, was not even in the city. The Duke, by some accounts, did not even know where he was. In contrast to the flood of immigrants that arrived in the spring, a mass exodus of emigrants left the city that winter.

The people were not wrong. Seras did not know where Rajac was; however, Base Commander Yaka did. At least, he had some general idea. Word was sent. They just needed to wait.

But war waits on no man.

And so, as winter dawned in the thirty-second year of R.E., the War of the Five Dukes came to pass.

~

Asur felt snow crunch under his bare feet as trudged through the blood-soaked fields of Abria in the dim light of the waning sun. Wind swept across a flat, humanoid face that emanated a faint, golden-hue. His calm face rose in a sneer at the sights before him. Men and Gods fought side-by-side for a patch of earth most, even in the Mortal Realm, would call insignificant.

It had been eons since he had deigned to step foot in this Realm. Since his birth, in fact. When the Overlord of Thantos pulled light from darkness, Asura woke for the first time. He was the first. The first to see what the Overlord created.

Wide, lush plains. Harsh, barren deserts. Cold, windy mountains. Dark, expansive oceans.

For millennia, Asur roamed the sandy beaches and craggy hilltops of Thantos. In those earliest of days, few races existed. Mortal or immortal. The Gods, for all their longevity, only arose at the tail-end of the last age. But, their rise is another story.

Those who roamed Thantos in the early days were of no interest to Asur. Asur’s interest and overall regard of Thantos waned as the millennia passed. He grew bored. Life, as he knew it, was a prison the Overlord constructed. He knew not whether the Overlord ment the prison for him or he was just a side-effect of what the Overlord created.

A desire was born in him. A desire to see more, to do more, to be more than he was. In these pursuits, Asur discovered the Balance. While he was the first, he would not be the last.

The Balance, like Asur, was not of the Overlord’s creation, thus, he had no control over it. And much like Asur, the Overlord tried with all his might to destroy it. But, Asur opposed him every step of the way.

As the Overlord pushed, Asur pulled.Chaos ensued on the Mortal Realm as the strongest entities on Thantos struggled for dominance. In uncounted time, the Overlord pulled victory from the jaws of defeat. He forced Asur to retreat to his solitary Realm, wounded grievously. The Overlord would have been content to leave Asur to his confinement but Asur held the core of the Balance in his hands and so he gave chase.

However, just as Asur could not leave Thantos and enter the Overlord’s Realm which lay beyond, the Overlord could not enter Asur’s Realm. Reluctant, the Overlord turned away from Asur’s Realm, and for the first time, began to govern the affairs of Thantos.

Peace descended upon the Mortal Realm as the two entities fell back to their own Realms and the Age of Turning began followed swiftly by the Age of Consideration and the Age of Folly. Both entities never forgot their struggle and as Asur trained in the Balance to overcome the Overlord, the Overlord prepared his defenses and awaited Asur’s attempt.

When the Gods came into being, Asur took notice. For the first time, he found a race he was interested in. The held two principles of Balance within their souls. While a creation of the Overlord, they were not apart of him like the Human, Elvish, or Beast Races were. They were unique in their own way.

And so, Asur stepped out from his Realm for the first time in eons to construct a home for those he favored. The Regas Realm. In time, the Gods created kingdoms in the Realm and headed religions in the Mortal Realm; things changed, though, when the Age of Governance arrived. When the Mortal Races learned how to achieve immortality, the Overlord, in opposition to Asur, created the Immortal Realm for them.

Asur smiled, enveloped in these distant memories, as he walked. A cold light began to cover his face in a mask that hid his true feelings. The Overlord had never understood the Balance. Even its name gave its nature away. Balance. One force must oppose another. That was just the basic principle. It was so much more complicated than that and, after eons, Asur understood much about the Balance but not all. Not quite yet.

If he did, he would not have needed to return to the Mortal Realm after so long.

A small manor rose before him, steepled with a chimney that covered the slanted roof of the building in a ring of smoke. Here, at least, the snow was a freshly strewn as Asur walked through it. A few mortal guards tried to bar his way as he approached the entrance of the manor. Asur shrugged off their advances as he moved forward.

His mood began to spark with annoyance as more mortals began to stream from the surrounding grounds as they shouted for him to stop.

He pursed his lips, unaffected by the chill of the air, as he turned to the mass of mortals. Some were humans in their stocky forms, a few were reed-thin Zalots, and a couple Demi-Gods. Disdain colored Asur’s emotions as he looked upon the traitors. Those whose ancestors betrayed the Covenant.

He pushed with the Balance. It was only slight but the earth crumpled in on itself with a loud groan. The mortals and immortals alike cried in pain as their bodies were pulled and pushed to and from the hole. No matter what principle used, the Balance had a recoil effect. Sometimes, Asur knew not what it would be.

This time, though, he had a good idea what would happen. There was only a little power involved after all. Blood splattered the manor walls as the beings were torn in two. The hole in the manor grounds continued to chew up the lawn as the foundations on which the manor stood, crumbled away until they were dust.

People streamed out of the innards of the building. With terror-stricken faces, they bypassed Asur without a second glance. Asur payed more attention than they. As one man in gold silk stumbled passed, Asur yanked him back by his neck.

Even the man’s guards, for there were many, did not stop as they pelted away from the manor as it sunk beneath them into to the pit that continued to expand.

With the man caught in his firm grip, Asur pulled himself and the man away from the Abrian province to a valley he knew was empty of people. As they arrived, a shudder rose from the surrounding hills as the Balance recoil hit. Cracks appeared in three hills to the southeast as Asur landed and the clouds, white as sheep, rumbled with thunder.

With a casual flick of his wrist, Asur let the man go. He fell to the ground in a heap. His light skin shimmered with sweat as he heaved each breath in and out.

Asur bent down and looked at the man.

The Demi-God.

The Lord.

Gaya.

He said nothing as Gaya caught his breath in the long-grasses of the valley. A soft wind cowtowed the heat as rain began to fall from the clear clouds above.

With a groan, Gaya sat up on his knees. “My lord,” he murmured, “I did not think my actions would cause such a response. For a God-King to send a Mukal.”

There was a subservience in his voice, however, he held his head high and a proud gleam remained in his eyes.

“I am not here for that triviality,” Asur said. He bent closer to Gaya as he spoke in. Most in the Regas Realm knew of Gaya’s war in the Northern Territories by this point. Though, nothing had been done yet.

“Then why…” Gaya trailed off as he straightened. “Did my Clan send you to destroy me? They tried before when I was young you know. He failed as you surely will.”

Although Gaya spoke with condescension, Asur could see the beads of sweat that began to form on Gaya’s brow as he spoke.

“I am here,” Asur said as he gripped Gaya’s chin in one hand and jerked his head so he looked right into Asur’s eyes as he spoke, “Because you set in motion an event that I spent eons preventing.”

Gaya’s eyes widened in surprise at Asur’s accusation. “I never...never…” Gaya trailed off. He had nothing more to say. He slumped. Only Asur’s grip kept him upright as sagged.

“The Ventros,” Asur said. “Tell me everything this instant.”

A light entered Gaya’s eyes at the name of that wretched race. “The Ventros,” he hissed. Some of his stature had come back as he asked with a hint of anger, “Why them? They are only mortals.” A sneer formed on his face as he looked up at Asur.

Asur gripped Gaya’s chin even tighter. This was one of the many reasons he held disdain for Demi-Gods. They were too much like mortals. As emotion ruled their souls, they were blocked from their potential. They broke the Covenant and restrained themselves to the Overlord’s decree. And to think, it was their choice.

“Tell me,” Asur said in a placid tone, “of the Ventros. Otherwise, I will rip out your soul and the souls’ of every single one of your mangy clan members.”

Gaya sat slack-jawed for only a moment before he began to speak. And speak he did. It was many hours later that Asur left a broken body in the silent valley. True to his word, Asur did not take his soul; though, some would say, what he took was far more precious.

With a small, ebony orb, still flecked with blood, clutched in his hand, Asura pulled away from the clearing in better spirits.

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