The Stone of Dremivia - Book 1 - Rise of the Demon King

Chapter 1 - Prepare for Battle

The threat of war had finally come to the once peaceful Kingdom of Dremivia and with it a feverish uncertainty for the people.

A highly conceited King named Leofilliah and his grand army marched forward across the dry grass fields of Kreeth on a tasked mission to meet with an unknown force who was approaching from the South and hoping to contest his crown.

It was early morning and the sun’s warmth had just begun to peek out from around the tops of the distant mountains, signalling with it a new day.

But this would be a day for blood…

Among the ten thousand or so soldiers marching forward under the Dremivian banner that afternoon was an intriguing soldier named Magnus William McRae.

A man whose life was about to change… forever.

In truth Magnus was a fearless young fighter who lusted for the thrill of battle. He craved it as if it were some kind of release from the dreariness of his somewhat mundane existence.

Most men would feel a sense of inescapable fear leading up to a battle, especially one of this massive scale. Perhaps the fear of their own impending demise.

But not him.

He actually enjoyed the thrill that if gave.

Magnus lived for the ultimate danger that battle promised, the thrill of a kill, the depravity of it all.

He had somehow managed to convince himself that he was lost without the sounds of clashing swords and the feel of warm blood being splashed across his face as his sword sliced through flesh and bone.

Some would call him crazy… many had, not that he seemed to care. You could say that it was in his blood. A part of him.

In stature Magnus was quite tall at a towering six feet, eight inches in height and extremely well-built. He often towered over many of the other soldiers he and his fellow comrades fought beside.

With his wide set shoulders displayed, his fabulous back and arm muscles flexed prominently with each of his swift and yet powerful movements as the army continued to march along on their latest mission.

As large as he was it had never been his brutish appearance that caught the eye of his enemy.

No, instead it was the intensity of his stare when faced off against an opponent.

With nothing but his piercing bright hazel eyes Magnus could render you helpless using nothing but a cold hard stare.

A predatory glare some would call it.

Long dark locks of wildly untamed hair fell over his shoulders and his full beard of dark brown hair was rugged, reaching down just below his chin.

He never had time to take notice of his appearance. Clearly it was the last thing on his mind leading up to a dangerous battle.

Each of the soldiers wore sparkling silver armour baring the Royal Crest of Dremivia on their breastplate as they marched along in perfect unison along the dusty fields, row by perfect row. The glint of the silver armour seeming to shine off into the far distance like a threatening beacon; a beacon of war.

Even being dressed like this, Magnus had always hated the amount of armour they were forced to wear into battle.

He found that it more than often got in the way during a fight and preferred to be able to move about freely without so many constricting restraints.

However Magnus was a part of the Dremivian army and would therefore adhere to their dress code, as ridiculous as it may have seemed to him. He was merely a soldier after all.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Company halt!”

A sudden call was shouted loudly enough for all to hear and the soldiers immediately stopped dead in their tracks, still in their perfect formation as they lowered their sharpened halberds to hit the ground beside them together in perfect unison.

The impact of their weapons causing the dirt below to spiral into thick clouds of red dust and slowly rise up into the air beside them.

Each of the many soldiers held onto a long silver halberd in their right hand and wore a long sword sheathed to their belt. Along with that, each soldier also wore several other daggers sheathed to different places around their bodies; the wrist, the ankle, the waist and behind their backs.

Every man on that field had been trained from a young age in armed and unarmed combat and were quite capable of taking out an enemy fighter.

That was what made the Dremivian army so powerful.

They were but trained killers.

Magnus stood in one of the front lines and would soon be ordered to charge upon the enemy as a part of the first advancement squadron.

And he would do so and without any fear or hesitation.

He did not fear death… instead he longed for it.

After a moment of silence Magnus’ impatience was beginning to show as he peered out across the foggy fields before them. They were currently waiting for a visual confirmation of their enemy being sighted. It was eerily quiet and the silence seemed to torment him as he fought to remain patient.

“Come on, come on…” he whispered quietly to himself.

His deep and husky voice confined within his large silver helmet as his eyes slowly swept from one side of the field to the other.

“What are you waiting for? Give the command already.”

Slowly the fog began to clear revealing their enemy stretched far and wide across the lands before them, dressed in dark armour and apparently also ready to do battle.

Magnus grinned as the enemy suddenly began screaming out loudly in an effort to strike terror into the hearts of their adversaries. Their voices rippling across the fields in great fury and challenge.

He eyed them cautiously from a distance, checking for any kinds of weaknesses. Magnus estimated that there were perhaps around five, perhaps six thousand men or so in total, though he knew their numbers made little difference.

They would not stand a chance against the Dremivian army.

No one ever did.

Then suddenly, all hell broke loose.

The sound of an old wooden horn filled the air and the signal had been given for the enemy to move forward and attack!

The battle had commenced…

A wave of enemy soldiers wearing black and silver armour charged forward, crying out loudly at the top of their lungs as they carried large silver shields, sharpened long swords and wore helmets with long black feathers sprouting out at the top.

Magnus watched with glee as they moved as one across the dusty fields, stirring up red clouds of dust and dirt in their wake. It was almost a sight too beautiful to turn away from. But he too would have his chance to shine soon enough.

“Hold the line men!”

The commanding voice of General Grayson could be heard as he rode his chocolate coloured stallion along the front line of soldiers. He was performing one last minute check of his forces before sending them off to intercede.

“Hold the line! Prepare to advance at my command.”

The General took one last look across to his King for visual permission to advance and meet the enemy at the centre of the field. It was always tradition for the King to give his nod of permission before a battle commenced.

King Leofilliah sat on his white stallion at the very back of his army, protected by the King’s Guard and many other soldiers who would each lay down their lives for him.

With but a simple nod of his gold-crowned head the silent and yet powerful order had been given for his army to advance and intercept.

This was it, the moment Magnus had waited for!

His right hand gripped tightly around the handle of his halberd and he rolled his shoulders in an effort to loosen them.

Quickly cracking his neck from side to side Magnus’ thick boots dug into the dirt and dead grass beneath him as he centred himself.

Preparing himself in a crouched stance and balancing carefully he silently waited for the order with his eyes fixated mercilessly on the approaching enemy. Their soldiers appearing like a giant black wave of movement across the hilly field as they moved.

General Greyson unsheathed his long sword and held it out pointed to their enemy as he cried out loudly.

“Show them no mercy men! For your King! For Dremivia! CHAAAAARRGE!”

Within the fraction of a second all soldiers had begun screaming out at the top of their lungs as they took off as fast as they could toward the approaching soldiers. Some had unsheathed their swords by now and others like Magnus, clutched their halberds tightly with one hand as they bolted across the dusty field. Magnus had little trouble lifting his halberd as he ran but his menacing armour was already beginning to get on his nerves.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They were about ten metres away from the enemy now who were also charging at great speed and soon it was obvious that they would viciously collide with one another.

Magnus pushed himself harder and ran even faster than he had before, thirsting for battle and glory. He was one of the first to make contact with the enemy as he threw his halberd which went hurtling through the air and viciously impaled one of the enemy soldiers, sending him flying backwards and killing him instantly.

Within a matter of seconds both armies collided viciously with men crashing into others, the clashing sounds of metal against metal could be heard as the fighting commenced.

As did the screaming.

Magnus pushed against the closest enemy soldier standing before him and with his great strength lifted him right off of his feet. The soldier shrieked as he fell and landed hard on his back on the dusty floor beneath where Magnus stood towering over him.

Unsheathing his long sword and with a powerful thrust down into the armour plated chest of the fallen soldier, there was one less of them to worry about. Magnus had tasted his first kill and it sent the intoxicating sensation of adrenalin rushing throughout his veins as he grinned devilishly with delight.

He wasted no time revelling in the pleasure of it as he pulled his sword out of the lifeless body below and then locked eyes upon his next victim.

To his right another approaching enemy soldier swung his sword, aiming directly at Magnus’s head but he saw it coming in time to counter it. With wide eyes Magnus ducked down quickly, the blade narrowly missing his head by less than an inch and with a forceful swing upward Magnus sliced through the breastplate of the attacking soldier, ferociously exposing his gaping chest wound and sending blood spurting out as he fell to the floor in a mangled heap. Blood had sprayed on Magnus’s helmet and breastplate but he hardly noticed. He was having far too much fun and there were still plenty more men to kill.

Turning around Magnus proceeded to swing at yet another soldier but the armour protecting his right arm suddenly locked up, preventing him from moving.

“f**k!” he cursed under his breath.

Seeing the soldier coming at him Magnus had to think fast and he instead used the blade of his sword to deflect the oncoming enemy blade as it came down upon him with a tremendous ‘crash’. The force was minimal and Magnus was able to push his enemy away with ease, giving him enough time to come up with another plan of attack.

He reached down and unsheathed a dagger from his waist belt and with careful aim he launched it straight at the oncoming soldier. The dagger pierced the poor soldier’s eye entering through the small visible gap in his helmet; a precise and fatal shot.

With a moment to think Magnus took this opportunity between fighting to rid himself of his menacing armour. He reached across with his left hand and grabbed at the armour protecting his right arm that had recently locked up. Tearing it off piece by piece with angered grunts, he stopped when his arm was completely exposed and he could wield his sword properly again. Twirling his sword around in his hand freely, Magnus found his next target and grinned.

“Your turn.” his husky voice proclaimed with a grin.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Not too far from where the action was currently taking place, a darkly dressed hooded figure stood high on the surrounding cliff, watching over the great battle raging on below him. His glowing white irises pierced down upon the pathetic mortals as they fought and a devilish grin spread across his frightening face revealing a glimpse of his jagged teeth.

His skin was a pale pasty white and he had several black tattoo markings across the sides of his face, his mouth, the top of his head and around his glowing white eyes. Each iris illuminated brightly with a haunting intensity and his tiny black pupils were centred within them.

Alabam, the demonic Master Mage and Bringer of Chaos was there to begin his recruitment process. Narrowing his haunting eyes for a moment, he used his dark powers to locate a single soldier amongst the tens of thousands fighting there that afternoon.

It was time for his chosen vessel to be marked...