The Last Battle

The Last Battle

Tales of the Crystal

Book Two

R.L. Kiser

Published by KiseSoft unInc.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2001-2012 R. L. Kiser All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, of the author-publisher.

ISBN: 9781301702596

This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are strictly from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover art by Laura Gordon Designs.

Crystal Fire (1) inspired the writing of this story to cover many tales left untold.

The Last Battle (2) is a prequel in the timeline of Tales of the Crystal and serves as a prelude to the third story.

The Twelve Tablets (3) takes up where the first story left off and tells more of Darian’s quest in the deep desert.

Contents

Top

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

About The Author

Click on any Chapter Title to return to the Table of Contents

Prologue

The Last Battle

In the beginning there was magic. Pure, raw, unadulterated, available to anyone with a natural penchant to use it. There were few at first and over time they became powerful. But then came others, many others, and many different kinds of magic.

There were magicians who played with magic largely for its entertainment value.

Illusionists, masters of misdirection.

Wizards who took on a more scientific approach and studied the why of magic and used the natural elements. Many recorded volumes of their findings. While they considered most magicians playful amateurs, they considered themselves serious practitioners and formed secret societies.

There were sorcerers who conjured things of magic from different sources. Their way and purpose for using magic was quite different from wizards, but they too kept careful records and took their practice seriously.

There were witches who might be considered female sorcerers -or- sorceresses but different in that they practiced mostly the black arts.

There were necromancers who dealt with summoning the dead.

There were healers who also called upon the natural elements.

There were acolytes and apprentices who studied under their more learned seniors in the various arts.

There were those that were pure of heart and used their gift of this special knowledge to help others and further the cause of mankind. But there were also others not so pure of heart who used their powers for their own personal gain and the subjugation of others, who let themselves fall under the influence of their own evil. For magic is neither good nor evil, but rather a manifestation of its user’s basic self.

With practice came knowledge. With knowledge came power. Without guidelines and limitations, without discipline, without a standard with which to adhere, came corruption, for absolute power corrupts – absolutely. With corruption came chaos and anarchy. Evil arose as though of its own consciousness and seized this growing power wherever it could.

Among the first users to discover magic, those that grew to be the most powerful, were two who were pure of heart. They saw the need for a standard of discipline to which all could adhere. A standard which, in and of itself, would be powerful but not absolute, a standard which all could see clearly and all would respect. They appealed to others of like mind and found a way to implement this standard. They formed The Crystal, a man sized, diamond shaped object of purity containing the hearts and minds, souls and powers of hundreds of adepts. Over time they came to be thousands.

The Crystal was a means of power, psychic power, physical power, electrical power, communications over great distances. It provided a means of peaceful arbitration and gave all citizens hope. It became the standard by which people, magic users and ordinary citizens, conducted themselves.

Most people. There were those that coveted their independence and would have no others tell them what to do, and so kept their own council. But most of them were reclusive, kept to themselves, and were not a problem.

Most of them. But there were others who saw themselves as superior to others and couldn’t help but meddle in their affairs. Ones who saw the Crystal as a great source of power, one they could use to its best advantage because those fools in Crystal City had no idea of the real potential of this magnificent item. Most of these outsiders were quite mad, of course, not being able to see that by its very nature and makeup the Crystal was exactly what it should be, a focal point for the power of magic.

However, that didn’t stop a one-time crystal warrior, a healer, from joining with the oldest living practitioner of the black arts to seek that which he coveted all his life, the power of The Crystal.

CHAPTER ONE

The Last Battle

It started out a beautiful day. The sun was warm and high in the sky, a few distant puffy white clouds lent their benign presence. The air was cool enough to be comfortable, trees were starting to blossom, birds were singing. Spring came early this year. Pastuer Berlinda, Earl of Narchie and crowned Regent of the crystal castle, turned away from the window to face his guest seated across the desk from him. If what you say is true, we could be in grave danger. We, that is the Crystal, has no indication of evil doings to the north.

Nor would you, replied the tall, thin, elegant man. While his hairline receded somewhat since his youth he still sported a full head of dark hair sprinkled with silver on the sides giving him a very distinctive look. His clothing was of court finery, only the best of silks, satins, velvets and wools. His face belied his sixty some years but his dark grey eyes showed all of that and more. What they didn’t show was one of the keenest and most deceptive minds ever to run a secretive group of espionage agents. If there was anything to be known anywhere in the civilized world this man knew it, or would shortly after it happened. We have reason to believe Thisrena is involved. She is certainly most capable of cloaking such activities.

Thisrena! exclaimed the regent. His penetrating light blue eyes widened. Despite his years his tall, wide, muscular warriors frame still moved swiftly. His long blonde hair turned silvery white framed a face whose sun darkened wrinkles told the tale of many campaigns and since many hours spent negotiating, playing politics with others like himself.

That might explain how an entire army mustering in the north could be kept undetected. We must move quickly, there’s no time to waste!

What will you do? There’s no time to gather a full army for defense. They are poised to move soon.

I’ve sent out a general recall for all crystal warriors and have accelerated training. It’s the best we can hope to do for the moment.

I have reports yet to go through. I’ll keep you apprised, said the elegant spymaster rising from his seat. The regent turned back toward the window, hands clasped behind his back, and observed the intensified training of his young crystal warriors below. ‘I hope it’s enough,’ he thought solemnly to himself.

Below in the courtyard the young crystal warrior Macon deftly dodged a sword thrust from his tutor Rowan, the captain, and with both hands on the hilt dropped to one knee bringing the dull edged practice blade across the chain mail of his captain’s middle. Well done! exclaimed the big warrior captain. In battle that would have drawn blood. And you were left in a good defensive position. He slapped his young pupil on the back. Macon smiled.

Gentlemen, do I interrupt? came the sweet melodious voice of one of the most beautiful women ever to grace the earth.

Macon affected a graceful bow and said, Lady Ariel, by your leave, tipped his hand to his head and walked away.

Rowan turned, looked down upon his lady love dressed in a flowing gown that enhanced her trim figure and smiled. Nothing warmed his heart as much as seeing her lovely oval face or gazing into her soft, intelligent pale blue eyes. You interrupt the beating of my heart, he teased.

Seriously, she said as she took his arm, "there are reports from the north that are disturbing. The crystal has seen nothing directly yet the movement of so many crops, cattle, the disappearance of so many young men leads us to believe something sinister is afoot.

So our own reports have shown. Regent Berlinda has sent out a general recall for all crystal warriors. Palowin was seen entering his chambers earlier. I suspect we’ll have more news by dinner.

It would seem you have your own spy network.

We do what we can, he smiled and guided her into the armory where young warriors were cleaning and putting away practice weapons in preparation for crystal training. While their physical training was intense, there were no finer swordsmen anywhere, they were also trained in the ways of magic through the crystal. While most did not possess the talents of a mage and mastered only the wards and spells of the crystal, some went far beyond that to become talented magicians.

The Crystal, a man sized, diamond cut crystal made of the hardest material and infused with the minds and souls of a thousand crystal warriors and seeresses over the past three hundred years, was formed at a time when there were no standards nor code of ethics for practitioners of sorcery and magic. The crystal provided a relief from the chaos that reigned for a thousand years. It became arbitrator in disputes, and while decisions reached by the Crystal were not absolute law, because absolute power corrupts – absolutely, they were respected. Disputes between merchants, bankers, and countries held in the presence of the Crystal were always resolved amicably. As a result Crystal City, which grew up around the castle that housed the self-suspended crystal, offered a variety of foreign and exotic odors, tastes, and goods.

For their instructions in crystal magic the young warriors were taught by crystal seeresses whose powers were greatest in matters of the Crystal. Only this time their tutor was one of unusual power in that she was the equal of any man present in swordsmanship, throwing knives, hand to hand combat, and had the advantage of being incredibly beautiful and sensuous. Only five feet four inches tall, her tan, sleek figure sported tight muscular legs and buttocks of a dancer, sensuous hips and a narrow waist leading to full, tight breasts that matched her size. The jaw was strong and determined, the lips full of promise, cheekbones high and proud, aristocratic nose, amber eyes that flashed with a fury and zest for life, all framed by long dark brown hair. Tarina’s talents in knowing and using the Crystal came naturally, she was one of the quickest students ever. She was also a favorite of Envil, the master blacksmith, for she rivaled even him in the design and making of lightweight, well balanced throwing knives.

When she entered the circle of students Tarina and Macon winked at one another as if sharing a private joke. While they called themselves brother and sister they were actually cousins from the desert lands south and west. The other young crystal warrior students nodded in respect, many of whom couldn’t wait to rub up against that supple body when she volunteered to assist in instructing the hand to hand techniques of using an opponent’s size and power against him. They were sadly disappointed when they found themselves flat on their backs with nothing more than bruised pride. She was quite a package of beauty, charm, wit and physical ability for one so young, barely past her teens.

Before she took the instructors place center circle Rowan took her aside and spoke privately for a moment. Her look changed to one of consternation, her brow furrowed. She shook her head in the affirmative and took her place in the middle of the student warriors seemingly lost in thought. She was suddenly given a very heavy responsibility usually reserved for veteran crystal warriors for advanced teaching.

Rowan cleared his throat to get the attention of everyone. Gentlemen, we’ve been called upon to accelerate your training. The techniques you are about to explore have seldom been used in several generations and for good reason. They are dangerous and will require the utmost concentration. Pay attention to the instructions. Good luck, he whirled and left the room.

Tarina gazed at all their young faces suddenly feeling much older than her twenty one years. She began, As you’ll recall from our early teachings beneath the thin crust upon which we live the earth is molten…

* * *

Far to the north scrambling for his life up steep slopes and over jagged edged rocks, searching for ways up or past steep cliff faces, a young crystal warrior tried desperately to elude the hell hounds and their masters chasing him. He paused for a moment partway up a small fissure, his heart pounding, his lungs gasping for breath. There were tiny traces of blood from the cuts in his hands and knees where the jagged edges and sharp thorns made entry. But that couldn’t be helped. What occupied his attention at the moment was the huge black body the size of a man with fore shoulders like those of a bull, a large head sporting rows of sharp teeth and fangs that could tear a man apart in seconds, and orange rimmed beady red eyes fixed and unwavering on him. The hell hound couldn’t climb after him up the narrow fissure, but it could sit and wait for its master who, could send climbers or weapons.

The prospect of again doing battle with one of these foul smelling beasts made him shudder. It was only by training and skill alone that he managed to roll from under the beast when the momentum of its running attack took it past him as its bulk knocked him down. Knife in hand when he came up, the blade held cutting edge out down along his arm, he arose with full force right into the beast’s throat. Blood gushed bright red drenching him, cascading down over him as if from a water fall. It left a perfect scent for the other beasts to follow.

And follow they did for several miles, baying their blood curdling howls, until he found a creek that wasn’t frozen over. The water was freezing cold having gone through a thaw, but he had to chance it. He had to rinse some of the blood away. Hypothermia was the least of his worries. His exertions from that point forward served to keep him warm and his clothes dried rapidly in the early spring sun. He managed to gain some distance, but now the elements slowed him down and his pursuers were about to catch up.

Earlier in the day he was high up on the slope of a steep foothill, well hidden among the trees, marking the comings and goings of the gathering army below. He didn’t want to use any kind of cloaking spell for fear of detection from any witches or necromancers traveling with the army below. These were Norsemen and were known to travel with practitioners of the black arts. He finished scribing in a notepad and put it back in his waist pouch when he heard something from below and to his right. A patrol. He instinctively moved above and to the left. He was quite good at this, having been raised in the woods and having been trained by Palowin the spymaster.

But even so there was no eluding the hyper sensitive noses of the hell hounds patrolling silently above him. He didn’t see any such hounds gathered in the camps below and so was unprepared when one came flying at him down the hill from behind a tree, its coal black body a streaking blur, white fangs dripping with saliva.

Fortunately his reactions were quick enough that he was able to tuck himself down into a ball. The beast’s momentum rolled him over but the impact was minimized. Rising up with his long knife along his forearm he cut the beast’s throat and ran for the crest of the hill as fast as he could, knowing other such beasts would soon pick up the scent of the blood in which he was drenched.

Now he was several hills away part way up a narrow crevasse in an otherwise sheer cliff face not knowing what awaited him at the top. He did know that any cloaking spells he might use now to hide himself would have no effect on the hell hounds.

In desperation, knowing the importance of the information he carried and the impact it would have on his people, he pressed on ignoring the stings from the cuts in his hands and the tired muscles in his legs starting to cramp. He had to keep going because if he stopped to rest again his muscles would seize up. Before he reached the top he saw that a few feet above him the fissure in which he braced himself split further and one side angled off. Again fortune was with him as there were handholds and indentations in the rock face on the slanted piece.

Below him he saw the master of the hell hound that was so closely watching him caught up to and was standing beside his beast. Tall, well over six feet, muscles rippled across his chest and arms under the leather band crossing his chest at an angle as he petted the beast. He wore dark silver fur boots that covered his calves and the same fur short pants which left his muscular thighs bare. His shoulder length hair was dark and flowed back from his face naturally. His eyes watched the climber intently trying to figure out how to trap his quarry. The one bit of magical illusion the crystal warrior was able to set in place was a deep chasm between the tree line where the beast and its master stood and the rock face. That would keep them from sending anyone across to follow him up the narrow crack in the rock face.

Having gained the top with the help of the multiple hand and toe holds on the angled rock face the crystal warrior Reynos lay panting, trying to catch his breath, and used every technique he ever learned to relax the burning muscles in his legs, arms, shoulders and back. After a few moments he forced himself into a sitting position.

The darkening sky above